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Hymns

Synesius of Cyrene, tr. FitzGerald, 1930

Chapter 8

In a somewhat Dorian cadence, I will lift up a clear song on my ivory-inlaid lyre, in Thy honour, Blessed Immortal, Offspring Illustrious of the Virgin; and do Thou, O Ruler, save my harmless life, granting me night and day alike inaccessible to griefs. Make Thy light to shine in my heart from out Thy source of Mind. Apportion to my youth the strength of sound limbs and to my actions renown; bring Thou a brilliant year even to the joy of my old age, augmenting precious wisdom with health. And mayst Thou preserve my brother to me, whom e’en now in his youth, O Immortal One, Thou didst bring back, when already passing on foot beyond the portals of this earth. Thou didst extinguish then my cares, my griefs, my tears, and the burning fire of my heart. Thou didst make even a dead body to live, O Father, for Thy suppliant’s sake. Preserve Thou my sister, and pair of children. All the house of the sons of Hesychius¹ do Thou hide under Thy hand, and the partner of my marriage bed, O King, keep Thou from illness and harm, united to me, of one mind with me; preserve my wife in ignorance of clandestine associates. May she maintain a holy couch, unsullied, pious, inaccessible to unlawful desires. Take Thou my soul away from evils and from piteous anguish, freed from the fetters of earthly life; and grant me to raise hymns with the choirs of the holy, in honour of Thy Father, and to Thy supreme power, O Blessed One, I will chant my hymns again, I will sing a song to Thee again, and again, perchance, I shall attune this unstained lyre to Thee.

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