To Faunus

Faunus! who lovest the flying nymphs to chase,
Oh, let thy steps with genial influence tread
My sunny fields, and be thy fostering grace
Soft on my nursling groves and borders shed;

If, at the mellow closing of the year,
A tender kid in sacrifice be thine,
Nor fail the liberal bowls to Venus dear,
Nor clouds of incense to thine antique shrine.

Joyous each flock in meadow herbage plays,
When the December feast returns to thee;
Calmly the ox along the pasture strays,
With festal villagers from toil set free.

Then from the wolf no more the lambs retreat,
Then shower the woods to thee their foliage round;
And the glad labourer triumphs that his feet
In triple dance have struck the hated ground.