Only-Begotten, noble race of Jove,
Blessed and fierce, who joys in caves to rove:
O warlike Pallas, whose illustrious kind,
Ineffable, and effable we find:
Magnanimous and famed, the rocky height,
And groves, and shady mountains thee delight:
In arms rejoicing, who with furies dire
And wild the souls of mortals dost inspire.
Gymnastic virgin of terrific mind,
Dire Gorgon’s bane, unmarried, blessed, kind:
Mother of arts, imperious; understood
As fury by the bad, wisdom by the good.
Female and male, the arts of war are thine,
O much-formed, dragoness, inspired, divine:
O’er the Phlegrean giants, roused to ire,
Thy coursers driving, with destruction dire.
Sprung from the head of Jove, of splendid mien,
Purger of evils, all-victorious queen.
Hear me, O Goddess, when to thee I pray,
With supplicating voice both night and day,
And in my latest hour peace and health,
Propitious times, and necessary wealth,
And ever present be thy voteries aid,
O much implored, art’s parent, blue-eyed maid.