Saturnia lends the lash; the coursers fly; Smooth glides the chariot through the liquid sky. Heaven’s gates spontaneous open to the powers, Heaven’s golden gates, kept by the winged Hours. Commission’d in alternate watch they stand, The sun’s bright portals and the skies command; Close, or unfold, the eternal gates of day Bar heaven with clouds, or roll those clouds away. The sounding hinges ring, the clouds divide. Prone down the steep of heaven their course they guide. But Jove, incensed, from Ida’s top survey’d, And thus enjoin’d the many-colour’d maid.