HYMNUS VENERI, DUM IN ILLIUS TUTELAM TRANSEUNT VIRGINES. Tu tuis adsis, Venus alme, sacris: Rideas blandum, Venus, et benignum, Quale cum Martem premis, aureoque Frangis ocello. Rideas ô tum neque flamma Phoebum, Nec juvent Phœben sua tela; gestat Te satis contra tuus ille tantum Tela Cupido. Saepe in ipsius pharetra Dianae Hic suas ridens posuit sagittas, Ausus et flammae Dominum magistris Urere flammis. Virginum te orat chorus--esse longum Virgines nollent--modo servientum Tot columbarum tibi passerumque augere catervam. Dedicant quicquid labra vel rosarum Colla, vel servant tibi liliorum; Dedicant totum tibi ver genarum, Ver oculorum. Hinc tuo sumas licet arma nato, Seu novas his ex oculis sagittas; Seu faces flamma velit acriori Flave comatas. Sume, et ô discant quid amica, quid nox, Quid bene et blande vigilata nox sit; Quid sibi dulcis furor, et protervus Poscat amator. Sume per quae tot tibi corda flagrant, Per quod arcanum tua cestus halat, Per tuus quicquid tibi dixit olim aut Fecit Adonis. TRANSLATION. A HYMN TO VENUS, WHILE THE VIRGINS PASS UNDER HER PROTECTION. Be thou, sweet Venus, present now, Whilst at thy sacred rites we vow; Smile, Venus, with the smile that charms When Mars enfolds thee in his arms, O'ercome with glance as sunshine golden, Renownèd from the ages olden. Smile; then Phœbus' flame shall fail, Nor Phœbe her own darts avail. Thy Cupid only against thee Wields successful weaponry. Oft and oft the laughing Boy In the wildness of his joy Has slipt into Diana's quiver His keen arrows, that a shiver Pleasant-painful send through all, When he, trickster, doth enthral. Yea, he has dar'd the Lord of Fire With flames more burning, in his ire. The arm-link'd Virgins to thee pray, Seeking thou wouldst near them stay; Were it but to offer here, In the flock that hovers near, More doves and sparrows lightly-flying: To their prayer there's no denying. Lo, they dedicate in posies All their lips supply of roses; All their necks, of lilies, white As the dewy stainless light; Yea, the whole Spring of each cheek, And that which from their eyes doth break. Hence, Venus, arms thou mayest take For thy wanton Boy to make Arrows from their fire-darting eyes, Or torches flame-tipp'd that surprise With Love's delicious agonies. Take them, and see thou lett'st them know What means a 'mistress;' and then show What the Night all-wakeful is In the rapture of its bliss; What the bold lover shall demand When all charms he doth command. Take them: by all the hearts that burn, And passionate unto thee turn! By all the mysteries that are breath'd,