A Hymn to CeresThe rich-hair’d Ceres I assay to sing;A Goddess, in whose grace the natural springOf serious majesty itself is seen;And of the wedded, yet in grace still green,Proserpina, her daughter, that displaysA beauty casting every way her rays.All honour to thee, Goddess! Keep this town;And take thou chief charge of my song’s renown!
The rich-hair’d Ceres I assay to sing;A Goddess, in whose grace the natural springOf serious majesty itself is seen;And of the wedded, yet in grace still green,Proserpina, her daughter, that displaysA beauty casting every way her rays.All honour to thee, Goddess! Keep this town;And take thou chief charge of my song’s renown!