THE SECULAR HYMN

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THE SECULAR HYMN.

TO APOLLO AND DIANA.

HEBUS, and Dian, forest queen,

Heaven's chiefest light sublime,

Ye, who high-worshipped evermore have been, And shall high-worshipped be for evermore, Fulfil the prayers which, at this sacred time,

To you we pour;

This time, when, prompted by the Sibyl's lays,
Virgins elect, and spotless youths unite

To the Immortal Gods a hymn to raise
Who in the seven-hilled City take delight!

Benignant sun, who with thy car of flame

Bring'st on the day,

And takest it away,

And still are born anew,

Another, yet the same,

In all thy wanderings mayst thou nothing view,

That mightier is than Rome,

The empress of the world, our mother, and our home!

O Ilithyia, of our matrons be

The guardian and the stay,

And, as thine office is, unto the child,

Who in the womb hath reached maturity,

Gently unbar the way,

Whether Lucina thou wouldst rather be,

VOL. II.

Or Genitalis styled!

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Our children, goddess, rear in strength and health,

And with thy blessing crown

The Senate's late decree,

The nuptial law, that of our dearest wealth
The fruitful source shall be,-

A vigorous race, who to posterity

Shall hand our glory, and our honours down!
So, as the circling years, ten-times eleven,

Shall bring once more this season round,
Once more our hymns shall sound,
Once more our solemn festival be given,

Through three glad days, devoted to thy rites, Three joyous days, and three not less delightsome nights!

And you, ye Sister Fates,

Who truly do fulfil

What doom soever, by your breath decreed,
In the long vista of the future waits,
As ye have ever made our fortunes speed,
Be gracious to us still!

And oh! may Earth, which plenteous increase bears

Of fruits, and corn, and wine,

A stately coronal for Ceres twine

Of the wheat's golden shocks,

And healthful waters and salubrious airs

Nourish the yeanling flocks!

Aside thy weapons laid, Apollo, hear

With gracious ear serene

The suppliant youths, who now entreat thy boon !
And thou, of all the constellations queen,

Two-hornèd Moon,

To the young maids give ear!

If Rome be all thy work, if Trojan bands

Upon the Etruscan shore have won renown, That chosen remnant, who at thy commands

Forsook their hearths, and homes, and native town;
If all unscathed through Ilion's flames they sped
By sage Æneas led,

And o'er the ocean-waves in safety fled,

Destined from him, though of his home bereft, A nobler dower to take, than all that they had left!

Ye powers divine,

Unto our docile youth give morals pure !

Ye powers divine,

To placid age give peace,

And to the stock of Romulus ensure

Dominion vast, a never-failing line,

And in all noble things still make them to increase!

And oh! may he who now

To with milk-white steers uplifts his prayer,

you

Within whose veins doth flow

Renowned Anchises' blood, and Venus' ever fair,
Be still in war supreme, yet still the foe
His sword hath humbled spare !

Now, even now the Mede

Our hosts omnipotent by land and sea,

And Alban axes fears; the Scythians, late

So vaunting, and the hordes of Ind await,

On low expectant knee,

What terms soe'er we may be minded to concede.
ow Faith, and Peace, and Honour, and the old
Primeval Shame, and Worth long held in scorn,
To reappear make bold,

And blissful Plenty, with her teeming horn,
Doth all her smiles unfold.