Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Revolution.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
307
Revolution.
See Golden Age Restor'd.
The self-same Sun does ev'ry Morn appear,
And as He drives a Day, He whirls a Year.
From the same East He comes with equal Pace,
To the same West He still directs his Race,
And not one Change is seen in Nature's Face.
The same Moon shines, and at a certain Day,
Her Light encreases, and her Horns decay.
Nature does still her beaten Track pursue,
Nor like a Novice wanders in a new.
Phœbus still warms those Signs where first he shone,
And Day goes round with one eternal Sun:
Thus prov'd:—because by just Degrees the Hours
In different Countries are the same with our's.
The Eastern Nations view the rising Fires,
Whilst Night shades Us, and lazily retires.
As to the distant West we nimbly run,
That still removes, nor can we reach the Sun:
His Race no East begins, no West doth bound,
But on he drives in one continual Round.—
And as He drives a Day, He whirls a Year.
From the same East He comes with equal Pace,
To the same West He still directs his Race,
And not one Change is seen in Nature's Face.
The same Moon shines, and at a certain Day,
Her Light encreases, and her Horns decay.
Nature does still her beaten Track pursue,
Nor like a Novice wanders in a new.
Phœbus still warms those Signs where first he shone,
And Day goes round with one eternal Sun:
Thus prov'd:—because by just Degrees the Hours
In different Countries are the same with our's.
The Eastern Nations view the rising Fires,
Whilst Night shades Us, and lazily retires.
As to the distant West we nimbly run,
That still removes, nor can we reach the Sun:
His Race no East begins, no West doth bound,
But on he drives in one continual Round.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |