Carmen Saeculare

1. Phoebus, and Diana, mistress of the woodlands, bright glory of the sky, O ever to be worshipped and ever worshipped, grant what we pray for at this sacred season,

at which the Sibylline verses have admonished chosen maidens and unblemished boys to sing a hymn to the gods to whom the seven hills are dear.

Kindly Sun, who in your shining chariot bring forth the day and hide it, and rise again another and yet the same — may you never look upon anything greater than the city of Rome!

Gentle to bring to term the births now ripe, Ilithyia, watch over our mothers, whether you choose to be called Lucina or Genitalis:

Goddess, raise up our offspring, and prosper the decrees of the senators upon the wedding of women and the marriage law, fruitful of new children,

so that the fixed cycle of ten times eleven years may bring back the songs and the games, thronged three times by clear day and as often by welcome night.

And you, Fates, truthful in your singing of what has once been spoken — and let the steadfast boundary of things preserve it — to fortunes now accomplished join good fortunes still to come.

May the earth, rich in crops and cattle, present Ceres with a crown of grain, and may healthful waters and the breezes of Jove nourish the new growth.

Mild and gentle, your weapon laid aside, hear the suppliant boys, Apollo; queen of the stars, two-horned, hear, O Moon, the girls:

if Rome is your work, and if Trojan companies held the Etruscan shore, that band bidden to change their homes and city in a saving voyage,

for whom, through burning Troy, with no treachery, chaste Aeneas, surviving his fatherland, made ready a free road, destined to give more than was left behind:

Gods, grant to the teachable young an upright character, gods, grant to peaceful old age its rest, and to the race of Romulus give wealth and offspring and every glory.

And whatever the renowned blood of Anchises and of Venus entreats of you with white oxen, let him obtain it — mightier than the warring foe, gentle to the one laid low.

Now the Mede fears our hands, powerful by sea and land, and the Alban axes; now the Scythians, lately so proud, and the Indians seek our answers.

Now Faith and Peace and Honour and old-fashioned Modesty, and Virtue too long neglected, dare to return, and blessed Plenty appears with her full horn.

May Phoebus, the augur, splendid with his gleaming bow and dear to the nine Muses, who by his healing art relieves the weary limbs of the body,

if he looks with favour upon the Palatine heights, prolong the Roman state and prosperous Latium into another cycle and ever to a better age.

And may Diana, who holds the Aventine and Algidus, heed the prayers of the fifteen men, and lend friendly ears to the vows of the boys.

That Jove and all the gods feel thus, I carry home a good and certain hope, I, a chorus trained to sing the praises of Phoebus and Diana.