Around the box a glittering golden cord was wound, and fastened on top in an intricate knot. […] This time of bliss has justly borne the title of the Golden Age, and the people in Italy then throve under the wise rule of good old Saturn, or Cronus. […] The god seized his golden lyre and poured forth impassioned strains. […] Directly eastward Phaeton journeyed, nor paused to rest until he came in view of the golden and jewelled pinnacles and turrets of his father’s abode. […] His garments were also black, but all strewn with golden stars.