To Musæus
Attend Musæus to my sacred song,
And learn what rites to sacrifice belong.
Jove I invoke, the earth, and solar light,
The moon's pure splendor, and the stars of night;
Thee Neptune, ruler of the sea profound,
Dark-hair'd, whose waves begirt the solid ground;
Ceres abundant, and of lovely mien,
And Proserpine infernal Pluto's queen;
The huntress Dian, and bright Phœbus rays,
Far-darting God, the theme of Delphic praise;
And Bacchus, honour'd by the heav'nly choir,
And raging Mars, and Vulcan god of fire;
The mighty pow'r who rose from foam to light,
And Pluto potent in the realms of night
With Hebe young, and Hercules the strong,
And you to whom the cares of births belong
Justice and Piety august I call,
And much-fam'd nymphs, and Pan the god of all,
To Juno sacred, and to Mem'ry fair,
And the chaste Muses I address my pray'r;
The various year, the Graces, and the Hours,
Fair-hair'd Latona, and Dione's pow'rs;
Armed Curetes, household Gods I call,
With those who spring from Jove the king of all:
Th' Idæan Gods, the angel of the skies,
And righteous Themis, with sagacious eyes;
With ancient night, and day-light I implore,
And Faith, and Justice dealing right adore;
Saturn and Rhea, and great Thetis too,
Hid in a veil of bright celestial blue:
I call great Ocean, and the beauteous train
Of nymphs, who dwell in chambers of the main;
Atlas the strong, and ever in its prime,
Vig'rous Eternity, and endless Time;
The Stygian pool, and placid Gods beside,
And various Genii, that o'er men preside
Illustrious Providence, the noble train
Of dæmon forms, who fill th' ætherial plain;
Or live in air, in water, earth, or fire,
Or deep beneath the solid ground retire,
Bacchus and Semele the friends of all,
And white Leucothea of the sea I call
Palæmon bounteous, and Adrastria great,
And sweet-tongu'd Victory, with success elate
Great Esculapius, skill'd to cure disease,
And dread Minerva, whom fierce battles please
Thunders and winds in mighty columns pent,
With dreadful roaring struggling hard for vent:
Attis, the mother of the pow'rs on high,
And fair Adonis, never doom'd to die,
End and beginning he is all to all,
These with propitious aid I gently call
And to my holy sacrifice invite,
The pow'r who reigns in deepest hell and night;
To Hecate (printed by Taylor as the closing lines of the hymn To Musæus)
I call Einodian Hecate, lovely dame,
Of earthly, wat'ry, and celestial frame,
Sepulchral, in a saffron veil array'd,
Pleas'd with dark ghosts that wander thro' the shade;
Persian, unconquerable huntress hail!
The world's key-bearer never doom'd to fail
On the rough rock to wander thee delights,
Leader and nurse be present to our rites;
Propitious grant our just desires success,
Accept our homage, and the incense bless.
To the Goddess Prothyræa. The Fumigation from Storax.
O Venerable goddess, hear my pray'r,
For labour pains are thy peculiar care
In thee, when stretch'd upon the bed of grief,
The sex as in a mirror view relief,
Guard of the race, endued with gentle mind,
To helpless youth, benevolent and kind
Benignant nourisher great Nature's key
Belongs to no divinity but thee,
Thou dwell'st with all immanifest to sight,
And solemn festivals are thy delight.
Thine is the task to loose the virgin's zone,
And thou in ev'ry work art seen and known,
With births you sympathize, tho' pleas'd to see
The numerous offspring of fertility
When rack'd with nature's pangs and sore distress'd,
The sex invoke thee, as the soul's sure rest
For thou alone can'st give relief to pain,
Which art attempts to ease, but tries in vain;
Assisting goddess, venerable pow'r,
Who bring'st relief in labour's dreadful hour;
Hear, blessed Dian, and accept my pray'r,
And make the infant race thy constant care,
To Night. The Fumigation with Torches.
Night, parent goddess, source of sweet repose,
From whom at first both Gods and men arose,
Hear, blessed Venus, deck'd with starry light,
In sleep's deep silence dwelling Ebon night!
Dreams and soft ease attend thy dusky train,
Pleas'd with the length'ned gloom and feastful strain.
Dissolving anxious care, the friend of Mirth,
With darkling coursers riding round the earth,
Goddess of phantoms and of shadowy play,
Whose drowsy pow'r divides the nat'ral day:
By Fate's decree you constant send the light
To deepest hell, remote from mortal sight
For dire Necessity which nought withstands,
Invests the world with adamantine bands.
Be present, Goddess, to thy suppliant's pray'r,
Desir'd by all, whom all alike revere,
Blessed, benevolent, with friendly aid
Dispell the fears of Twilight's dreadful shade.
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