(The fumigation from storax)

 

O Father Jove, who shak'st with fiery light

The world deep-sounding from they lofty height:

From thee, proceeds th' aetherial lightning's blaze,

Flashing around intolerable rays.

Thy sacred thunders shake the blest abodes,

The shining regions of th' immortal Gods:

Thy pow'r divine, the flaming lightning shrouds,

With dark investiture, in fluid clouds.

'Tis thine to brandish thunders strong and dire,

To scatter storms, and dreadful darts of fire;

With roaring flames involving all around,

And bolts of thunder of tremendous sound.

Thy rapid dart can raise the hair upright,

And shake the heart of man with wild afright.

Sudden, unconquer'd, holy, thund'ring God,

With noise unbounded, flying all abroad;

With all-devouring force, entire and strong,

Horrid, untam'd, thou roll'st the flames along.

Rapid, aetherial bolt, descending fire,

The earth all-parent, trembles at thy ire;

The sea all-shining; and each beast that hears

The sound terrific, with dread horror fears:

When Nature's face is bright with flashing fire,

And in the heavens resound thy thunders dire.

Thy thunders white, the azure garments tear,

And burst the veil of all surrounding air.

O Jove, all-blessed, may thy wrath severe,

Hurl'd in the bosom of the deep appear,

And on the tops of mountains be reveal'd,

For thy strong arm is not from us conceal'd.

Propitious to these sacred rites incline,

And crown my wishes with a life divine:

Add royal health, and gentle peace beside,

With equal reason, for my constant guide.