Then ceased the banquet, wont to charm
Both gods above and men below:
The mother’s anger to disarm,
And mitigate the stings of woe,
Till in these words Jove uttered his behests:
“Let each benignant grace attend
Sweet music’s sympathizing aid to lend,
And drive corrosive grief from Ceres’ breast
Indignant for her ravished child:
Now, O ye Muses, with the lyre
Join the shrill hymns of your assembled choir,
The brazen trumpet fill with accents wild,
And beat the rattling drums amain.”
Then first of the immortal band,
Venus with lovely smile approved the strain,
And raised the deep-toned flute in her enchanting hand.