191
HYMN to the PENATES.
Yet one Song more! one high and solemn strain
Ere Pæan! on thy temple's ruined wall
I hang the silent harp: there may its strings,
When the rude tempest shakes the aged pile,
Make melancholy music. One Song more!
Penates! hear me! for to you I hymn
The votive lay. Whether, as sages deem,
Ye dwell in the [1]inmost Heaven, the [2]Counsellors
Of Jove; or if, Supreme of Deities,
All things are yours, and in your holy train
Jove proudly ranks, and Juno, white arm'd Queen.
Ere Pæan! on thy temple's ruined wall
I hang the silent harp: there may its strings,
When the rude tempest shakes the aged pile,
Make melancholy music. One Song more!
Penates! hear me! for to you I hymn
The votive lay. Whether, as sages deem,
Ye dwell in the [1]inmost Heaven, the [2]Counsellors
Of Jove; or if, Supreme of Deities,
All things are yours, and in your holy train
Jove proudly ranks, and Juno, white arm'd Queen.
