Vesta I sing, who, in bequest of fate,
Art sorted out an everlasting state
In all th’ Immortals’ high-built roofs, and all
Those of earth-dwelling men, as general
And ancient honours given thee for thy gift
Of free-liv’d chastity, and precious thrift.
Nor can there amongst mortals banquets be,
In which, both first and last, they give not thee
Their endless gratitudes in pour’d-out wine,
As gracious sacrifice to thy divine
And useful virtues; being invok’d by all,
Before the least taste of their festival
In wine or food affect their appetites.
And Thou, that of th’ adorn’d-with-all-delights
Art the most useful angel, born a God
Of Jove and Maia, of heaven’s golden rod
The sole sustainer, and hast pow’r to bless
With all good all men, great Argicides,
Inhabit all good houses, see’ng no wants
Of mutual minds’ love in th’ inhabitants,
Join in kind blessing with the bashful maid
And all-lov’d virgin, Vesta; either’s aid
Combin’d in every hospitable house;
Both being best seen in all the gracious
House-works of mortals. Jointly follow then,
Even from their youths, the minds of dames and men.
Hail then, old Daughter of the oldest God,
And thou Great Bearer of Heaven’s golden rod!
Yet not to you alone my vows belong,
Others as well claim th’ homage of my song.