Hymn to Apollo

Communicated by Miss Flaxman

From the Greek

Through nature’s wide domain,
Let solemn silence reign:
Let all the mountains, hills and floods,
The earth, the sea, the winds and woods,
The echoes, and the feather’d throng,
Forbear to move, or tune their song.

Behold! the Lord of Light
Begins to bless our sight,
Phoebus, whose voice, divinely clear,
E’en Jove himself delights to hear,
Great father of the bright-eyed morn,
Whose shoulders golden locks adorn!

Swift through the azure sky
O let thy coursers fly;
And with them draw that radiant car,
Which spreads thy splendid rays afar,
Filling all space at thy desire,
With torrents of immortal fire.

For thee, serene advance,
The spheres in solemn dance,
For ever singing as they move
Around the sacred throne of Jove
Songs accordant to thy lyre,
While all the heavenly host admire.

And when the God of day
Withdraws his golden ray,
Do thou, sweet Cynthia, bless our sight,
With thy mild beams, and silver light;
O spread thy snowy mantle round,
And wrap the world in peace profound.