Hymn XVIII: To Pluto

Pluto, magnanimous, whose realms profound
Are fix'd beneath the firm and solid ground,
In the Tartarean plains remote from sight,
And wrapt for ever in the depths of night.
Terrestrial Jove, thy sacred ear incline,
And pleas'd accept these sacred rites divine.
Earth's keys to thee, illustrious king, belong,
Its secret gates unlocking, deep and strong.
'Tis thine abundant annual fruits to bear,
For needy mortals are thy constant care.
To thee, great king, all-sov'reign Earth's assign'd,
The seat of Gods and basis of mankind.
Thy throne is fix'd in Hades' dismal plains,
Distant, unknown to rest, where darkness reigns ;
Where, destitute of breath, pale spectres dwell,
In endless, dire, inexorable hell ;
And in dread Acheron, whose depths obscure,
Earth's stable roots eternally secure.
O mighty demon, whose decision dread,
The future fate determines of the dead,
With captive Proserpine, thro' grassy plains,
Drawn in a four-yok'd car with loosen'd reins,
Rapt o'er the deep, impell'd by love, you flew
Till Eleusina's city rose to view :
There, in a wondrous cave obscure and deep,
The sacred maid secure from search you keep,
The cave of Atthis, whose wide gates display
An entrance to the kingdoms void of day.
Of works unseen and seen thy power alone
To be the great dispensing source is known.
All-ruling, holy God, with glory bright,
Thee sacred poets and their hymns delight,
Propitious to thy mystics' works incline,
Rejoicing come, for holy rites are thine.