Paul answering with a grave sweet courtesy For all attuned that genial atmosphere To a chaste spirit of something finer yet Than genial, which prepared him easy way To saying: "And now, O Publius, unto God Most High, who gave thee what thou givest us, And gave thee likewise thy good will to give, That God in whom we live and move and have Our being, who of one blood made us all, Gentile and Jew together, and whose Son Christ Jesus died that we might be redeemed To fellow-sonship with Himself to God-- Let us to God, All-giver, render thanks For these his gifts, and therewithal for that, His gift unspeakable in Christ His Son." So, Publius assenting with bowed head And complaisance unspoken, Paul gave thanks. "Oblation of the lips in chosen words, Warm from the heart no doubt yet only words, O Paul, thou offeredst to the powers unseen Above us," Publius said soon after, while The equal feast they shared; "as if one God Alone thou worshippedst, All-giver named By thee: but we have gods and goddesses Diverse in name and office, unto whom We offer gift and sacrifice diverse According as may seem diversely meet. Apollo is the regent of the sun, Of the moon, Cynthia with her crescent bow; Pomona is our patroness of fruits, While Flora rules the gentle realm of flowers, And mother Ceres yields us corn and oil. Jupiter gives us weather, and he broods In fecund incubation from the skies Over the earth to quicken all that grows With moisture; but he sometimes frowns in cloud Not kindly, and hurtles down the thunderbolt. Know it was Neptune that stirred up the sea So, in that insurrection and revolt Against you late, and stranded you forlorn, Happy for me and mine! upon this isle; For Neptune is the sovereign of the wave. Those winds that blew meantime were breath in blast Puffed from the cheeks of Æolus who holds The invisible dominion of the air. The world is peopled dense with deities Whom well to worship all, is no light task. We build them temples, and on altars there Pour them out rivers of blood from victims slain; Blood is the favorite drink to most of them. The victims' flesh we offer them for food: They do not eat it; so we eat it for them. For instance now, these meats purveyed for you Ere going to the shambles to be sold, Were duly each presented to some god: So we may gratify our appetite, And feel that we are worshipping the while. But Bacchus is our hospitable god: A big, bluff, honest face we figure him, Bloodthirsty not, but fond of festal cheer. Him we best please by drinking of his gift, Not blood of beast but generous blood of grape, And spending a libation of the same, Tribute to him, the end of every feast."