Carmen Saeculare (Gladstone)

Phoebus, and Dian, sylvan queen,
Twin glory of the heavenly sheen,
Adored of right and always, hear
And grant my prayer this sacred year;

When, bidden by the Sibyl verse,
Chaste youths and chosen maids rehearse
Praise to those gods, and worship done,
Whose grace the sevenfold hills have won.

Thou shap'st the day by eve and morn,
The same and yet another born,
Kind Sun; and from thy shining dome
Nought mayst thou see more great than Rome.

Lucina, Genitalis thou,
Or Eilithuia, favour now
Our mothers: help to bring aright
Ripe healthful issue into light.

Oh give us offspring, bless the laws,
Goddess, set forth in wedlock's cause;
Oh yoke our women, and command
That crowds of children deck the land.

The round of years, in order due,
Ten times eleven, brings anew
These chants and games, these sounds and sights,
Three shining days, three joyous nights.

And you, O Fates, of truthful strain,
May firm-set laws your word maintain
Told once for all, and founded fast;
And give a future like our past.

May Earth, all blest in flock and field,
Her wheaten crown for Ceres yield,
And breezes light and healthful rains
Our yearlings rear on all the plains.

Come hear thy boys, serene and kind,
Apollo; leave thy darts behind;
And hear the maidens as they pray,
Thou horned queen, whom stars obey.

If your decree hath founded Rome,
If, changing household gods and home,
A remnant was ordained to reach,
From Trojan plains, the Tuscan beach,

For whom unscathed, through Troy ablaze,
The good Aeneas cleared the ways,
And freed them, and, of home bereft,
Yet gave them more than all they left.

Obedient youth, ye Gods! and pure,
And peace for tranquil age assure:
Wealth, offspring, every gift and grace
Shower down on this Romulean race.

The high-born prince (that fells his foe,
But spares the victim once laid low,)
Of Venus and the Anchisean line,
Now slays for you the milk-white kine.

The Mede e'en now by sea and land
Dreads Alban axe, and Roman hand;
Scythian, and Indian, proud of late,
Ask, and our answer suppliant wait.

Faith, Peace, that Shame our fathers knew,
And Honour, walk our streets anew;
Neglect no longer Virtue chills,
And her rich horn kind Plenty fills.

The Seer, by all the Muses crowned,
Whose splendent bow sheds glory round;
Phoebus, whose kind remedial art
To sickening limbs can health impart,

If Palatinian heights he sees,
And loves; if Rome and Latium please,
May he prolong the Roman might
Through lustres new, and still more bright.

And Dian, she, who builds her shrine
On Algidus and Aventine,
To boyhood's prayer give friendly ear,
And our Fifteen benignant hear.

Home then we go, and mark the word;
Great Jove and all the gods have heard
These voices, trained in hymns to raise
Apollo's and Diana's praise.