Hymn to Diana

Though great Apollo claim the poet’s lyre,
Yet cold neglect may tempt Diana’s ire.
Come, virgin-goddess, and inspire my song,
To you the chace, the sylvan dance belong,
And mountain-sports ; since first with accents mild, — :
Whilst on his knee the Thunderer held his child,
O grant me, father, thus the goddess said,
To reign a virgin, an unspotted maid.
To me let temples rise and altars smoke,

And men by many names my aid invoke;
Proud Phœbus else might with thy daughter vie,
And look on Dian with disdainful eye.
To bend the bow and aim the dart be mine,
I ask no thunder nor thy bolts divine ;
At your desire the Cyclops will bestow
My pointed shafts and string my little bow.
Let silver light my virgin steps attend,
When to the chace with flying feet I bend,
Above the knee be my white garments
In plaited folds, and fring’d around with gold.
Let Ocean give me sixty little maids
To join the dance amid surrounding shades ;
Let twenty more ‘from fair Amnisius come,
All nine years old, and yet in infant-bloom,

To bear my buskins, and my dogs to feed,
When fawns in safety frisk along the mead,
Nor yet the spotted lynx is doom’d to bleed.

Be mine the mountains and each rural bower,
And give one city for thy daughter’s dower ;
On mountain-tops shall my bright arrows shine,
And with the mortal race I only join,
When matrons torn by agonizing throes
Invoke Lucina to relieve their woes;
For at my birth the attendant Fates assign’d
This task to me, in mercy to mankind,
‘Since fair Latona gave me to thy love,
And felt no pangs when blest by favouring Jove.
She spoke, and stretch’d her hands with infant-art,
To stroke his beard, and gain her father’s: heart ;
But oft she rais’d her little arms in vain,
At length with smiles he thus reliev’d her pain.
Fair daughter, lov’d beyond th’ immortal race,
If such as you spring from a stol’n embrace,
Let furious Juno burn with jealous ire,

Be mine the care to grant your full desire,
And greater gifts beside: from this blest hour
Shall thirty towns invoke Diana’s power,

Full thirty towns, (for such high Jove’s eri
Ungirt by walls, shail pay their vows to thee :
O’er public ways Diana shall preside,

And every port where ships in safety ride.
Nor shall these towns alone your. power obey,
But you with other gods divide the sway
Of distant isles amid the watery main,
And cities on the continental plain,
Where mighty nations shall adore your name,
And groves and altars your protection claim.
The Thunderer spoke, and gave th’ almighty nod,

That seals his will, and binds th’ immortal god.
Meantime the joyful goddess wings her flight
To Creta’s isle with snowy mountains bright ;
Thence from Dictynna’s hills and bending wood
She seeks the caverns of the rolling flood,
And at her call th’ attendant virgins come,
All nine years old, and yet in infant bloom.
With joy Ceratus views the smiling choir,
And hoary Tethys feels reviving fire,
When her bright offspring o’er th’ enamel’d green
Trip with light footsteps and surround their queen.
But thence to Melegunis’ isle in haste
(Now Lipara) the sylvan goddess pass’d,
Her nymphs attending, and with wondering eyes
Saw the brown Cyclops of enormous size,
Deep in their darksome dwelling under ground,
On Vulcan’s mighty anvil turning round
A mass of metal hissing from the flame:
The sea-god urges, and for him they frame
A wondrous vase, the liquor to contain
That fills his coursers on the stormy main.
With horror chill’d, the timorous virgins eye
Stupendous giants rear their heads on high,
Like cloud-capt Ossa rising o’er the field ;
One eye, that blaz’d like some refulgent shield,
From each stern forehead glar’d pernicious ‘fire.
Aghast they gaze, when now the monsters dire.

With stubborn strokes shake the resounding shore,
And the huge bellows through the caverns roar.
But when from fiercer flames the metal glows,
And the fix’d anvil rings with heavier blows,
When ponderous hammers break the tortur’d mass,
Alternate thundering on the burning brass,
The nymphs no more endure the dreadful sight,
Their ears grow deaf, their dim eyes lose the light;
A deeper groan through labouring ‘tna runs,
Appals the hearts of old Sicania’s sons,
Redoubles from Hesperia’s coast around,
And distant Cyrnus thunders back the sound.
No wonder that Diana’s tender maids
Should sink with terror in these gloomy shades ;
For when the daughters of th’ immortal gods
With infant-clamours fill the blest abodes,
Arges or Steropes the mother calls
(Two Cyclops grim) from their infernal halls
To seize the froward child; no Cyclops come,
But, loudly threatening, from some inner room
Obsequious Hermes swift before her stands,
With blacken’d face, and with extended hands ;
The frighted infant, thus compos’d to rest,
Forgets its cries, and sinks upon her breast.
But fair Diana, scarce three summers old,
Could with her mother these dread realms behold,
When Vulcan, won by her enchanting mien,
With welcome gifts receiv’d the sylvan queen :
Stern Bronte’s knee the little goddess prest,
And pluck’d the bristles from his brawny breast,
As if dire Alopecia’s power had torn
The hairs that shall no more his chest adorn.
Now undismay’d, as then, the goddess cried,
Ye mighty Cyclops, set your tasks aside,
And for Jove’s daughter forge immortal arms,
To fright the savage race with wild alarms;
Sharp arrows to pursue the flying foe,
A sounding quiver, and a dreadful bow,
Such as Cydonians use; for know that I :
Descend, like Phoebus, from the realms on high,
And, when some tusky boar resigns his life,
Beneath my darts amid the sylvan strife,
Th’ unwieldy victim shall reward your toil,
And hungry Cyclops gorge the grateful spoil.
She spoke; the tawny workmen swift obey’d,
And in one instant arm’d th’ immortal maid.
But now the goddess sought, nor sought in vain,
Pan, the protector of th’ Arcadian plain ;
She found the god dividing ’mongst his hounds
The flesh of lynxes from Menalea’s grounds.
Six beauteous dogs, when first she came in view,
Swift from the pack the bearded shepherd drew.
One silver spangles round his body bears,
Two streak’d with white, and three with spotted ears,
All fierce in blood; the weaker prey they slew,
And living lions to their kennel drew.
Seven more he gave of Sparta’s hardy race,
Fleet as the winds, and active in the chace
Of fauns, that climb the mountain’s lofty steep,
And hares, that never shut their eyes in sleep ;
Skill’d through the porcupine’s dark haunts to go,
And trace the footsteps of the bounding roe.
The nymph accepting leads her hounds with speed
To verdant hills above the Arcadian mead,
And on the mountain’s airy summit finds
(Sight wondrous to behold) five beauteous hinds,
That on Anaurus’ flowery margin fed
(Where mossy pebbles fill’d his ample bed)
In size like bulls, and on their heads divine
High horns of beaming gold resplendent shine.
Soon as the vision open’d on her eyes,
These, these, she said, shall be Diana’s prize,
Then, o’er the rocks, pursued the mountain-winds,
Outstripp’d the dogs, and seiz’d the flying hinds ;
One unobserv’d escap’d, but four remain
To draw her chariot through th’ ethereal plain.
The fifth, by Juno’s wiles, took swift her way
Through Celadon’s dark flood ; the glorious prey
To Cerynzus’ distant mountains run ;
A future prize for great Alemena’s son.
Hail, fair Parthenia, beauteous queen of night,
Who hur!’d fierce Tityus from the realms of light ;
I see the nymph in golden arms appear,

Mount the swift car, and join th’ immortal deer:
A golden zone around her waist she binds,
And reins of gold confine the bounding hinds.
But whether first, O sacred virgin, say,
Did your bright chariot whirl its airy way?

To Hzmus’ hills, whence Boreas fiercely blows
On wretched mortals frost and winter snows.
But whence the pine, and whence the kindling flame?
The pine from Mysia’s lofty mountain came;
Jove’s thunder roar’d; red lightning stream’d on high
To light the torch that blazes through the sky.

Say next, how oft the silver bow you drew,
And where, bright queen, your vengeful arrows flew.
An elm receiv’d the first, an oak the next ;

The third a mountain savage deep transfix’d ;
More swift the fourth, like rattling thunder springs, ;
And hurls destruction from its dreadful wings
On realms accurst, where justice ne’er was shown
To sons of foreign states, or of their own,
Deep sunk in crimes !—How miserable they
Gainst whom thy vengeance wings its distant way !
Disease devours the flocks, dire hail and rain
Destroy the harvest, and lay waste the plain.
The hoary sire, for guilty deeds undone,
Shaves his grey locks, and mourns his dying son.
In agonizing pangs, her babe unborn,
The matron “dies, or from her country torn
To some inhospitable clime must fly,
And see th’ abortive birth untimely die.

Thrice happy nations, where with look benign
Your aspect bends ; beneath your smiles divine
The fields are with increasing harvests crown’d,
Thé flocks grow fast, and plenty reigns around,
Nor sire, nor infant-son, black death shall crave,
Till ripe with age they drop into the grave;
Nor fell suspicion, nor relentless care,

Nor peace-destroying discord enter there,
But friends and brothers, wives and sisters, join
The feast in concord and in love divine.

O! grant your bard, and the distinguish’d few,
His chosen friends, these happy climes to view :
So shall Apollo’s love, Diana’s praise,

And fair Latona’s nuptials grace my lays ;
And when my soul inspiring transport feels,
Your arms, your labours, and the fervid wheels
Of your swift car, that flames along the sky
To yonder courts of thundering Jove on high.
Your coming Acacesian Hermes waits,
And great Apollo stands before the gates,

To lift from off the car the sylvan prey,
While Hermes joyful bears your arms away.
Nor Phœbus e’er his helping hand denies ;
But when Alcides scal’d the lofty skies,
This task to him was by the gods decreed,
So from his ancient labours scarcely freed,
Before th’ eternal doors the hero stands,
‘Expects the prey, and waits your dread commands.

In laughing crowds the joyous gods appear,
But chief th’ imperious step-dame’s voice you hear
Loud o’er the rest, to see Tirynthius pull
Th’ unwieldy weight of some enormous bull.
That with his hinder foot impatient spurns
The labouring god, as from the car he turns.
The brawny hero, though with toil opprest,
Approach’d the nymph, and quaintly thus addrest :
Strike sure the savage beast, and man to thee
Will give the name before bestow’d on me,
The great Deliverer ; let the timid hare .
And bearded goat to native hills repair,
And there securely range. What ills proceed
From hares or goats that on the mountains feed ?
Wiid boars and trampling bulls oft render vain
The peasant’s toil, and waste the ripening grain ;
Aim there your darts, and let the monsters feel
The mortal wound, and the sharp-pointed steel.
He spoke, renew’d his toil, and heav’d away
With secret gladness the reluctant prey.

Beneath the Phrygian oak his bones were burn’d,
And his immortal part to heaven return’d,
Yet still tormented with fierce hunger’s rage,
As when Theiodamas he durst engage.
Amnisian virgins from the car unbind
The sacred deer, and dress each panting hind ;
Ambrosial herbage by their hands is given
From meadows sacred to the queen of heaven,
Where Jove’s immortal coursers feed. They bring
Refreshing water from a heavenly spring
In golden cisterns of ethereal mould,
The draught more grateful from a vase of gold.
But you, fair nymph, call’d by the powers above,
Ascend the mansions of imperial Jove;
The gods rose graceful, when the virgin queen,
With beauteous aspect and with look serene,
By Phœbus’ side assum’d her silver throne,
Next him in power, and next in glory shone.

But when, with sportive limbs, the nymphs are seen
To dance in mazy circles round their queen,
Near the cool fountains whence Inopus rose,
Broad as the Nile, and like the Nile o’erfiows;
Or when to Pitane or Limnz’s meads,
Or Alz’s flowery field, the goddess leads
The choir, from Taurus black with human blood, '
And turns disgustful from the Scythian brood.
That day my heifers to the stall retire,
Nor turn the green sward for another's hire ;
Though nine years old, and in Tymphzea born,
Their limbs though sturdy, and though strong of horn
To drag the plouzh, and cleave the mellow soil,—
Yet seni their necks, o’erlabour’d, bend wiih toil,
When Sol himself leans downward from the sky,
Beholds the virgins with enraptur’d eye,
Detains his chariot, whence new glories pour,
Prolongs the day, and stops the flying hour.

What city, mountain, or what sacred isle,
What harbour, boasts your most auspicious smile ?
And of th’ attendant nymphs, that sportful rove
Along the hills, who most enjoys your love,
O goddess tell: If you inspire their praise,
Admiring nations will attend my lays.
Your favour Perga, green Doliche boasts,
Taygettus’ mountains, and Euripus’ coasts ;
And Britomartis, from Gertynas’ grove,
Of all the nymphs enjoys distinguish’d love:
Fair Britomartis (skill’d to wing the dart,
And pierce with certain wound the distant hart)
Imperial Minos chas’d with wild desire
O’er Cretan hills, and made ihe nymph retire
To some far distant oak’s extended shade,
Or sheltering grove, or marsh’s watery bed.
Nine months the king pursued, with furious haste,
O’er rocks abrupt, and precipices vast,
Nor once gave back, but when the blooming maid
Was just within his power, and none gave aid,
His grasp eluding, from the impending steep
Headlong she plung’d amid the swelling deep.
But friendly fishers on the main display’d
Their nets wide-stretching to receive the maid,
‘And thus preserv’d her from a watery death,
Worn out with toil, and panting still for breath.
And in succeeding times Cydonians hence
Dictynna call’d the nymph; the mountain, whence
She leapt into the sea, bear Dictée’s name,
Where annual rites record the virgin’s fame.
On that blest day, fair nymph, is wove for thee
A garland from the pine or mastich tree ;
The myrtle-branch untouch’d, that durst assail
The flying maid, and rent her snowy veil,
And hence the man must bear the virgin’s frown,
Who shall her altars with fresh myrtles crown.
The name Dictynna, too, the Cretans gave
(From her who fearless plung’d beneath the wave)
To you, fair Upis, from whose sacred brows
Resplendent glory with mild lustre flows ;
But in your breast the nymph Cyrené shares
An equal place, and equal favour bears,
To whom in days of old your hands convey’d
I'wo beauteous hounds, with which the warlike maid
Mild Anticlea your regard possest :
Acquired renown before th’ Iolcian tomb.
All-bright with locks of gold see Procris come,
Majestic matron, Cephalus’s spouse, ’
Whom, though no virgin, you, great goddess, choose
Companion of the chace, but o’er the rest
Fair as the light, and dearer than your eyes,
She claims protection by superior ties.
These first bore quivers, these you taught to wing
The sounding arrow from the trembling string,
With their right shoulders and white bosoms bare,
They lead the chace, and join-the sylvan war.
Your praises, too, swift Atalanta charm,
Tasius’ daughter, whose resistless arm
O’erthrew the boar; you show’d the nymph withart
T’ incite the hounds, and aim th’ unerring dart.
But Calydonian hunters now no more
Dispute the prize, since the fair virgin bore
The glorious trophy to th’ Arcadian plain,
Where his white teeth record the monster slain.
Nor now shall Rhecus, nor Hyleus young,
With lust inflam’d, or with fell envy stung,
Lay hands unhallow’d on the beauteous maid,
‘Or once approach her in th’ Elysian shade ;

Since their torn entrails on Menalia tell
How by her arm th’ incestuous monsters fell.
Hail! bright Chitone, hail ! auspicious queen,
With robes of gold, and with majestic mien !
In many temples, many climes adore
Your name, fair guardian of Miletus’ shore.
The name Imbrasia, Chesias too is given
To you high thron’d among the powers of heaven,
Since happy Nelus and th’ Athenian host
By your protection reach’d the fertile coast.
Great Agamemnon’s hand a rudder bore,
To grace your temple on Beeotia’s shore,
And gain your love, while adverse winds detain
The impatient Grecians from the roaring main;
Wild with delay on rugged rocks they mourn
Rhamnusian Helen, from her country torn.

When sudden frenzy seiz’d the madd’ning brains
Of Preetus’ daughters on th’ Achaian plains ;
While o’er th’ inhospitable hills they roam,
You sought the maids, and safe conducted home:
Of this two sacred fanes preserve: the fame,
One to Coresia from the virgin’s name ;
To Hemeresia one in Loussa’s shades,
Mild Hemeresia cur’d the furious maids.
Fierce Amazonian dames to battle bred,
Along th’ Ephesian plains by Hippo led,
With pious hands a golden statue bore
Of you, bright Upis, to the sacred shore,
Plac’d where a beech-tree’s ample shade invites
The warlike band to join the holy rites.
Around the tree they clash their maiden shields,
With sounding strokes that echo through the fields ;
Swift o’er the shores in wider circles spring,
Join hand in hand to form a mazy ring,
And beat, with measur’d steps, the trembling ground
Responsive to the shrill pipe’s piercing sound ;
The bones of deer yet uninspir’d and mute,
From which Minerva form’d a softer flute.
Discordant notes to lofty Sardis fly,
And Berecynthus’ distant hills reply ;
Hoarse-rattling quivers o’er their shoulders rung,
While from the ground with bounding feet they sprung.
And after-ages saw, with glad surprise,
A wondrous fabric round the statue rise,
More rich, more beautiful, than Phœbus boasts,
With all his glory, on the Delphic coasts:
Nor yet Aurora’s morning beams have shone
On such a temple, or so fair a throne.
But soon fierce Lygdamis descending down,
With impious threats to burn th’ Ephesian town,
In numbers like the sand an host prepares
Of strong Cimmerians, fed with milk of mares:
The bands unblest their sudden march began
From frozen plains, where lowing Io ran.
Ah! wretched monarch, fated now no more
To lead your legions to the northern shore ;
Who drove their chariots o’er Cayéster? s mead
Shall ne’er in Scythian climes their coursers feed :
For bright Diana guards the sacred towers,
And on th’ approaching foe destruction pours. .
Hail! great Munychia; for th’ Athenian bay
And Phere’s fertile shores confess your sway ;
Hail! bright Pherza; and let none presume
T’ offend Diana, lest th’ avenging doom
Fall heavy on their heads, which Oeneus mourn’d,
When, unsuccessful, from the field he turn’d
For vows unpaid. Like her let none pretend
To dart the javelin or the bow to bend ;
For when Atrides durst her grove profane,
No vulgar death remov’d the fatal stain.
Let none, with eyes of love, the nymph behold,
Lest, like fond Otus and Orion bold,
They sink beneath her darts; let none decline
The solemn dance, or slight the power divine:
E’en favour’d Hippo feels her vengeful ire.
If from th’ unfinish’d rites she dares retire.
Hail! virgin queen, accept my humble praise ;
And smile propitious on your poet’s lays.