I pray the gods to quit me of my toils,<br/>To close the watch I keep, this livelong year;<br/>For as a watch-dog lying, not at rest,<br/>Propped on one arm, upon the palace-roof<br/>Of Atreus' race, too long, too well I know<br/>The starry conclave of the midnight sky,<br/>Too well, the splendours of the firmament,<br/>The lords of light, whose kingly aspect shows-<br/>What time they set or climb the sky in turn-<br/>The year's divisions, bringing frost or fire.