To Pallas
Only-Begotten, noble race of Jove,
Blessed and fierce, who joy'st in caves to
rove:
O, warlike Pallas, whose illustrious kind,
Ineffable and effable we find:
Magnanimous and fam'd, the rocky height,
And groves, and shady mountains thee
delight:
In arms rejoicing, who with furies dire
And wild, the souls of mortals dost
inspire.
Gymnastic virgin of terrific mind,
Dire Gorgons bane, unmarried, blessed,
kind:
Mother of arts, impetuous; understood,
Rage to the wicked, wisdom to the good:
Female and male, the arts of war are thine,
Fanatic, much-form'd dragoness, divine:
O'er the Phlegrean giants, rous'd to ire,
Thy coursers driving, with destruction
dire.
Sprung from the head of Jove, of splendid
mien,
Purger of evils, all-victorious queen.
Hear me, O Goddess, when to thee I pray,
With supplicating voice both night and day,
And in my latest hour, give peace and
health,
Propitious times, and necessary wealth,
And, ever present, be thy vot'ries aid,
O, much implor'd, art's parent, blue-eyed
maid.