Daughters of Jove! Ye tuneful Muses, pay
Now the soft strain to Luna's milder ray;
From whose celestial brow the streaming light
Gilds with refulgent beam the shades of night.
Wash'd in the Ocean-wave, thy garments shine,
Lovely thy form, with lustre all divine.
Rising full-orb'd, thy chariot through the air,
With floating manes thy rapid coursers bear:
Then thy bright beams in full luxuriance shine,
The swains rejoicing in the heavenly sign.
From this fair power and the embrace of Jove
Pandeia sprung, the fruit of secret love:
Pandeia, bless'd with charms of form and face,
The first and fairest mid the' immortal race.
Hail, white-arm'd goddess! beauteous Luna, hail!
From thee beginning shall my tuneful tale
The glorious deeds of demigods rehearse,
Sung by the Muse in never-dying verse.