Venus was the Roman goddess of love and beauty, but it was as the "Bringer of Peace" that English composer Gustav Holst represented goddess and planet in his symphonic guide to the solar system, "The Planets."

Of course, Venus, covered by an opaque cloud of sulfuric acid, hardly seems as "peaceful" as Holst depicted it.

The planet's atmosphere is 96.5 percent carbon dioxide and 3.5 percent nitrogen, and the remaining 1 percent is made up of water vapor, O2, SO, SO2, and some noble gasses.

Still, while the ambient heat on Venus is hot enough to spontaneously ignite paper, and the atmosphere itself will corrode metal, the planet is the most similar to Earth in mean density, bulk composition and size.

When Holst composed his suite between 1914 and 1916, little of this was known. Astronomers speculated that its cloudy surface hid a warm, wet ocean, or perhaps lush jungle. As far as the children of Earth could tell, our sister planet was not yet an inferno, but a paradise.

Holst's Venus, like all "The Planets," is more a product of the Greco-Roman mythology that gave the planet its name and the astrological tradition that sought to give it character.

In Alan Leo's What is a Horoscope and How Is It Cast?, a book that Holst is known to have read, Venus is considered "the most fortunate star under which to be born," granting those under its influence "a keen appreciation of art and beauty and ... all the pleasure-loving inclinations."

Holst interpreted Venus somewhat differently, representing the planet as "Bringer of Peace" in contrast to Mars, "Bringer of War" and inspiration for the first movement of "The Planets."

By emphasizing "peace" rather than "beauty" or "love," Holst may have meant to imply that peace is found through love and art, or that peace is necessary for love and art to blossom.

All three conditions are higher evolutions of the human spirit, more abstract than the brutish physicality that Mars represents.

However, this is not a completely pastoral, innocent peace.

Venus as the goddess of pleasure stood for hedonism and sensuality, and therefore the planet imparts a tinge of overindulgence to one's horoscope.

Perhaps the peace that Holst refers to is actually a transitory one, an illusion.

The music here picks up this theme -- not satisfied, but restless and yearning -- providing the suite with the impetus to carry on to the next movement rather than settle forever into its blissful rest.

After all, Venus guides our love-lives and pleasures, including gifts and unrequited longings for a planetary sister paradise.

And we burn -- literally, in the case of so many melted space probes -- for love of our planetary "twin," preferring to ignore the gap between, on the one hand, the hope that accompanied early images of Venus and, on the other, the reality of her presence.

Musically, the movement serves as stark contrast to the aggression of "Mars," with simple, softer instrumental tones of strings and woodwinds.

The play of colors here is more finely wrought than that found in the Martian movement, with emphasis given to wind and string mixtures and delicate layering of timbres (instrumental colors).

On the whole, the piece is constructed from arching, melodic lines traveling from instrument to instrument. Though subtitled "The Bringer of Peace," a yearning quality in the music belies the longing pangs of love.

The movement opens with a solo ascending horn line that Star Wars fans will recognize as a thematic inspiration for John Williams' "Luke and Leia" theme. This is answered by a falling line in the oboe and winds.

This pattern of alternating rising and falling lines is a recurring element in the development of the piece. After a brief transition, a new theme then appears in the solo violins, repeated by the strings as a group.

Much of the forward impetus of this movement is provided by a pulsating undercurrent or "heartbeat" effect in the accompaniment, provided by strings, harps and winds in turn. As the movement progresses this undercurrent surges and abates in waves.

The two major themes recur and retreat, often linked by transitional or secondary melodies, such as those found in the solo oboe and cellos.

The "heartbeat" takes over near the climax, creating a mood of suspended, wordless beauty. This "little death" yields to the opening horn tune with its original orchestration, which dissolves into a lullaby with bells and harp.