Far in the bay his shining palace stands, Eternal frame! not raised by mortal hands: This having reach’d, his brass-hoof’d steeds he reins, Fleet as the winds, and deck’d with golden manes. Refulgent arms his mighty limbs infold, Immortal arms of adamant and gold. He mounts the car, the golden scourge applies, He sits superior, and the chariot flies: His whirling wheels the glassy surface sweep; The enormous monsters rolling o’er the deep Gambol around him on the watery way, And heavy whales in awkward measures play; The sea subsiding spreads a level plain, Exults, and owns the monarch of the main; The parting waves before his coursers fly; The wondering waters leave his axle dry.