The poem of Aratus was in great esteem, both with the Greeks and Romans; and was translated into Latin by the celebrated Germanicus, and by Cicero; some of whose version is extant in his works. It is perfectly simple and inartificial; containing little more than a description of the constellations, as they are painted on the celestial globe; and of the several appearances of the moon and stars, as indicative of atmospheric changes: though, where he digresses to general nature, and in particular to the instincts of animals, he displays, not merely accurate observation, but that faculty of colouring objects which is peculiar to the true poet; and we find that Virgil has availed himself of these passages with his usual discernment of excellence. Aratus is quoted by St. Paul, in his oration to the Athenians on Mars's hill: Acts xvii. 28. "For in him we live, and move, and have our being; (as certain also of your own poets have said; for we are also his offspring." ARATUS. PROEM TO THE PHENOMENA. FROM Jove begin my song; nor ever be The name unutter'd: all are full of thee; The ways, and haunts of men; the havens, and the sea. On thee our being hangs; in thee we move; Hence men to him their thankful homage raise, Him, first and last, their theme of joy and praise. Hail, Father! wondrous! whence all blessings spring! Thyself the source of every living thing! And aid my numbers, while the stars I sing. PROGNOSTICS OF WEATHER. BE this the sign of wind: with rolling sweep High swells the sea; long roarings echo deep From billow-breaking rocks; shores murmur shrill, Though calm from storm, and howls the topmost hill. The heron with unsteady motion flies, And shoreward hastes, with loud and piercing cries; By downy-blossom'd plants, dishevell❜d-strown, Watch summer thunders break, or lightnings fly, Wind threatens from that quarter of the sky; And, where the shooting stars, in gloomy night, Draw through the heavens a track of snowy light, Expect the coming wind: but, if in air The meteors cross, shot headlong here and there, The clouds, like fleeces, hang beneath the sky: |