The holy festival’s triumphal throng,
In fair procession to Minerva’s fane,
With many a sacred symbol, move along.
There every shade of bright existence trace,
The fire of youth, the dignity of age;
The matron’s calm austerity of grace,
The ardent warrior, the benignant sage;
The nymph’s light symmetry, the chief’s proud mien—
Each ray of beauty caught and mingled in the scene.