“Let not thy steeds invade the Afric sky:
Its temper hath no moistness, and thy wheels
Downward must sink....
Direct thy path toward the Pleiads Seven.”
Impatient of the rest, he snatched the reins
And smote the wingèd coursers till they flew
Unchecked thro’ opening vistas of the heaven.
His father, mounted on a blazing star,
Rode after, warning him: “Drive thither, boy!”
“Wheel yonder!”