Daughters of Jove, whose voice is melody, 
Muses, who know and rule all minstrelsy, 
Sing the wide-winged Moon ! Around the earth, 
From her immortal head in Heaven shot forth, 
Far light is scattered - boundless glory springs; 
Where'eer she spreads her many-beaming wings 
The lampless air glows round her golden crown, 
But when the Moon divine from Heaven is gone 
Under the sea, her beams within abide,  
Till, bathing her bright limbs in Ocean's tide, 
Clothing her form in garments glittering far,  
And having yoked to her immortal car  
The beam-invested steeds whose necks on high  
Curve back, she drives to a remoter sky  
A western Crescent, borne impetuously.  
Then is made full the circle of her light,  
And as she grows, her beams more bright and bright 
Are poured from Heaven, where she is hovering then,  
A wonder and a sign to mortal men. 

The Son of Saturn with this glorious Power 
Mingled in love and sleep to whom she bore  
Pandeia, a bright maid of beauty rare  
Among the Gods, whose lives eternal are. 

Hail Queen, great Moon, white-armed Divinity. 
Fair-haired and favourable I thus with thee 
My song beginning, by its music sweet, 
Shall make immortal many a glorious feat 
Of demigods, with lovely lips, so well 
Which minstrels, servants of the Muses, tell 
 
 

Homer's Hymn to the Moon,