Synesius of Cyrene: Hymns

Sound forth, clear-tongued lyre,
after the Teian cadence, after the Lesbian movement;
sing to me in more time-honored strains a Dorian ode,
not one for dainty love-laughing girls
or for the adolescence of flowering youths
that compelleth desire;
for it is a sacred travail of divine wisdom
and one unsullied
that prompts me to strike the strings of my lyre
to a divine refrain, and bids me flee
from the honied infatuation of earthly loves.

What is force and what beauty,
what is gold or renown,
and what are royal honors
as compared with meditations upon God?

Let one man be apt in driving horses,
another in bending the bow;
let another guard his treasure heaps,
his golden joy.

Another's glory is the hair that sweeps his neck.
Let him be lauded on high
for the brightness of his countenance
by youths and maidens in their songs;
but it be my lot to lead a life not noised abroad,
a life without display in what concerns other men,
but that knows in itself of what pertains to God.

May wisdom be ever with me,
wisdom the good guide of youth and of age,
wisdom the just mistress of wealth,
she who smiling shall easily bear poverty,
impregnable to the bitter cares of life.

May as much be mine as shall suffice
to make me independent
on my neighbor's hut,
sufficient that want may not bend me down
to dark forebodings.

Listen now to the song of the cicada
as she drinks the morning dew.

See how my lyre-strings cry out unbidden notes,
how some prophetic voice flutter
about and around me.
What melody shall this divine parturition bear unto me?

God, the Beginning created of Himself,
Guardian and Father of existing things,
born without birth,
firmly enthroned above the pinnacles of heaven,
proud in glory unwaning,
God sits steadfast,
of unities the pure unity,
and the first monad of monads.

He hath joined the elements of exalted beings,
bringing them to existence in supernatural acts of birth.
From out of these the monad itself,
rushing on through a first-engendered form,
diffused in unspeakable ways,
holds the power of three summits.

But the fountain head which dominates,
is crowned with the beauty of children
leaping from out the center,
and again rushing towoards the center therein.

Pause, audacious lyre, I entreat;
pause, reveal not the mysteries
to the people at large,
mysteries which are celebrated without initiations;
go thou and tell of the things here below;
silence covereth those above.

And now mind is busy with mind's created universe,
for out of his has the good beginning
of man's spirit been divided beyond division.

Mind that waneth not,
though descending to matter,
is the seed of progenitors
that reign in right divine,
a seed however feeble.

But of these, this one whole universal mind,
this whole diffused into the whole,
turns the vast hollow of the heavens,
and keeping guard upon this very whole
is ever present, parted into forms diverse.

The one is the convoying of stars,
another turns to the dances of angels,
yet another has found an earthly form
by a bond descending,
and is severed from its parentage.
Dark oblivion hath it drunk,
and wondereth,
in its blind tormenting cares,
at the joyless earth.

Albeit a God looking on mortal things
is within it, there is still a light
in the veiled pupils of its eyes,
there is some courage
even in those who have fallen here below,
that summoneth them above,
what time that,
fleeing from out of the waves of mortal life,
they enter free from the case
on the sacred paths
that lead to the palace of their Parent.

Happy he who fleeing the voracious cry of matter,
and rising from earth,
urgeth with light bound his footsteps to God.

Happy he who after his allotted destiny,
after troubles, after bitter earthly cares,
enters on the pathways of mind
and beholdeth the deep profound
that shineth with divine light.

It is a labor to take flight
with the whole wings of those desires
that lift upwards to the universal Heart.

Do thou only confirm thy flight
by such flights as transport to the ideal world,
and the Father will appear nigh unto thee
and will hold out His Hands to thee.

For some shaft of light shall leap forth
to illumine thy paths,
and will unfold to thee the field of mind,
the beginning of beauty.

Arise, my soul,
drink from the fountain that runs with gold.

In worship of the Creator ascend thou,
and delay not;
leave to the earth the things of the earth,
and in unison with the Father
thou mayest perchance move
in harmony with God,
thyself divine.

Again light shines forth, again dawn,
again day, after the darkness that roams by night.

Again make supplication to God,
O my heart, in songs of the morning,
He who has given light to the dawn,
who has given stars to the night,
the dancing company that encircles the universe.

Ether has enveloped
the expanse of billowy matter,
mounting on the glory of flame,
that the queenly rotation of the moon
may divide her last phase.

Above the eight rotations of star-borne worlds
a stream bereft of stars drives onwards,
hidden within its bosom,
layers (of matter) in contrary currents,
and circles about the great Mind,
which bends with wings
down to the confines of the lordly universe.

A blessed silence covers all beyond,
an indivisible division alike
of the perceptive and the perceived.
One is the fountain-head, one the root

Lo, a thrice resplendent shape
has blazed forth,
for where the profundity of the Father is,
there is the august Son,
offspring as it were of the Heart.

Wisdom, the Creator of the universe
and the unified flame of the Holy Spirit,
has shone forth.

One fountain-head, one root,
did raise up a rich plenty of good things,
a progeny that passeth all being,
glowing with desire of generation,
and the wondrous flames
of the blessed in existence burn brightly.

Whence there has now entered
into the universe a choir of immortal rulers,
who sing in songs of the mind
the renown of the Creator,
and the first conceived form.

Near to their benign progenitors
an ageless army of angels,
now looking upon Mind,
plucks therefrom the principle of beauty,
and again, looking upwards the spheres,
directeth the deep places of the universe,
drawing the world that is above
even unto the extreme confines of matter,
where nature subsiding, giveth birth
to a horde of demons turbulent and full of guile.

Thence a hero; thence now a spirit
sown as seed through the lands,
has filled earthly destinies with life,
with cunningly devised forms.

All things hang upon Thy Will,
and Thou art the root of things present, past, future and within.

Thou art Father, art Mother,
Thou Male, Thou Female,
Thou Voice, Thou Silence,
of nature the fruitful Nature.

All hail Thee, O King,
whenever it be lawful to cry this aloud,
Age of ages,
Root of the universe.

All hail to Thee, Centre of existing things,
Monad of numbers immortal,
of kings that existed not before thee.

Mayest Thou rejoice greatly,
mayest Thou rejoice greatly,
for it is with God that joy is found.

Lend a propitious ear to the hymns of my choirs.
Open the light of wisdom,
pour down the glorious plenty of a calm life,
pour down its shining grace.
Drive poverty from our midst,
and the earthly calamity of wealth.

Drive illness from my limbs,
the disorderly urge of the passions from my life,
and soul-gnawing cares,
to the end that the destiny of earth
may not weigh down the wings of my soul,
but lifting a free pinion,
may I dance in the ineffable rites
of Thy offspring.

Awake my soul; give thyself unto sacred songs,
lay to rest the stings that are born of matter.

Arm thou the mighty impulses of mind.
For the King of gods we are weaving a crown,
a bloodless offering, libations of poesy.

Thee I invoke in song, Thee in the ocean,
Thee over islands, on mainlands,
in cities and on the craggy mountains,
Thee when'er I rest the twain feet of my limbs
on the far-famed plains,
Thee blessed Creator of a universe.

Night brings me, Thy minstrel, to Thee, O King,
and I lift up to Thee hymns of the day-time,
of the morning, of the evening.

Thy witnesses are the beams of glittering stars,
the courses of the moon, and the mighty witness,
the sun, who presideth over the pure stars,
the holy guardian of pure spirits.

Lifting up my wing that turns away from far-reaching matter,
I have advanced and come to Thy dwelling-place,
Thy bosom, rejoicing.

And now even unto the sacred enclosure
of the Holy Sacrifice am I come, a suppliant.
Now a suppliant I come to the crests of famous mountains,
and the great ravine of desert Libya,
the southern border, which no godless blast of wind sullieth,
nor is the foot-print graven thereon of men whose cares are of the town.

There, purified of passions, released from desires,
ceasing to grieve, to rage or to covert,
may my soul casting off all these things that cause death,
render the hymn that is due unto Thee
with a pure tongue and a sanctified mind.

Let earth and upper air be at peace.
Let the sea be still, let air be still.
Be still, ye gusts of swift winds;
be stilled, onslaughts of curling waves,
mouths of rivers, outwellings of springs.
Let silence hold the caverns of the universe,
while these sacred hymns are offered up.

Let the sinuous trend of serpents sink beneath the earth,
and that winged serpent also, the demon of matter,
he who clouds the soul, rejoicing in images
and urging in his brood of whelps against my supplications.

Do Thou, O Father, O Blessed One, keep away from my soul these
soul-devouring hounds, from my prayer, from my life, from my works.

May our heart's libations be a care to Thy august messengers,
wise bearers to Thee of holy hymns.

Now am I borne back to the starting point of sacred poesy.
Already does the oracle echo in my mind.
Be full of goodness unto me, Blessed One,
be full of goodness to me, Father,
if beyond what is ordered,
if beyond what is destined,
I touch upon that which is Thine.

Whose eye is so wise, whose so availing,
that it blinketh not when checked by Thy shafts of light?

Not even for gods it is lawful to gaze steadfastly on Thy flaming torches,
but Mind, falling from Thy pinnacle, is fain to caress whatsoe'er is near to Thee,
seeking thus to attain the unattainable, to look upon the light that glitters
in Thy untiring profundity; and so relinquishing unapproachable ways,
it fixes the strength of its eye upon the image that first showed itself.

Thence plucking flowers of light to be hymns unto Thee,
may it stay the blast of fitful winds and give thee back Thine own.
For what is there, O King, that is not Thine,
Father of all fathers, Father of Thyself,
Fatherless Ancestor, Son of Thyself,
One prior to the One, Seed of existing things,
Center of all things,
Mind that were without substance at the beginning?

Roof of the world, Thou the Light,
everywhere visible, of primal things,
wise Certainty and wisdom's Fountain,
Mind hidden by Thine own bright rays,
Eye of Thyself, Master of the thunderbolt,
Father of the ages, Immortal higher than the gods,
higher than intellects which thou turnest to one side of the other.

Thou the mind's source of intelligence,
the Creator of divine beings,
Shaper of the spirit, Nourisher of the soul,
Fountain of fountains, Origin of origins, Root of roots.
Thou art the Unity of unities, Number of numbers,
at once Monad and Number, Mind and Intellect,
both the knowable and what precedes it,
One and All, and the One of All, and the One before All,
that is the seed of all things, the root and the branch,
and nature in whatsoe'er is endowed with intelligence
the female element and the male.

The mind initiated in the mysteries
says such and such things,
moving in harmony
the while around Thy awful abyss.

Thou art the Generator, Thou the Generated;
Thou the Light that shineth, Thou the Illumined;
Thou what is revealed, Thou that which is hidden in Thine own beams;
The One and All, the One Self-contained and dispersed through all things.

For Thou wert poured out, ineffable Parent,
that Thou mightst beget a child,
to wit, far-famed Wisdom,
Creator of the world, but so outwelling,
Thou dost remain once delivered in the divisions undivided.

I sing to Thee, Unity, I sing to Thee, Trinity;
Thou art One being Three, art Three being One;
and the intelligible segment holds what has been divided still indivisible.

Thou wert poured out on the Son in Thy wisdom's Will,
and that Will Itself was then born,
a nature unutterable, the being pre-existent to matter.

It is against divine law to say that a second one has come from Thee,
it is against it to say that a third has come from the first.
O holy Birth, O unspeakable generation;
Thou art the boundary of natural forces,
of the generating and the generated.

O venerate the hidden ordering of intellectual things,
but there is some medial element that may not be distributed.
Ineffable Offspring of a Father Ineffable,
the birth-pang was through Thee,
and through the birth-pang Thou didst Thyself appear,
showing Thyself together with the Father by the Father's Will.

By the Will of the Father Thou, His Will,
art ever of Thyself beside the Father.
Even deep-eddying Time knoweth not the inevitable procreations,
nor did long ages comprehend the tedious birth.
With the Father He was revealed,
He that had been for all eternity One
that was to come into being.

Who has controlled rashness in regard to unspeakable things?
Godless are the audacities of blind mortals with cunningly devised language,
but Thou art Giver of light, the light of intellect,
and dost bear aloft the minds of holy men away from crooked deceit,
that they sink not in the dark shades of matter.

Thee, Father of the Universe,
Father of the ages,
Creator of the gods,
it is an act of purity to praise.

They who have knowledge praise Thee, O King,
and they who govern the world,
they of the glittering eyes,
the starry intelligences sing Thy praises,
Blessed One,
as the glorious mass moves
rhythmically around them.

The whole race of the blessed sing to Thee,
they who about the world,
who in the world,
within and without the zones
guide in their wisdom the fates of the cosmos,
protectors they,
side by side with the famous pilots
whom the chain angelic keeps pouring forth.

And the illustrious race of heroes
that goeth through the works of men,
works of mortal mold,
hidden pathways, (sing praises).
And the soul at once steadfast
and bent down to the dark-gleaming
corners of the earth (sing praises).

Thee blessed Nature hymns aloud,
and the offspring of Nature
which Thou, Blessed One,
urgest on with favoring breezes,
drawn from Thy channels and rolling onwards;
for Thou, Leader of immaculate universes,
art the Nature of natures;
Thou cherishest Nature,
birth of mortals,
the image of the eternal monad,
that even the lowest portion of the universe
may be allotted an alternative lot.

For it was not the divine law
that the less of the universe
should contend with the summits.
That which has been wholly ordained
to the assemblage of real existences
shall never perish,
but all find their happiness,
one from another
and each through each.

Of perishable things an eternal circle,
cherished by Thy breath,
places choirs to Thee
throughout all things:
so doth maternal Nature
in her proper colors,
in her proper works,e
embellish them.

And out of living things of varied voices
she creates one harmony in likeness of sound.
All things bring to Thee ageless praise,
even the dawn and the night,
the lightnings, the snows, the firmament,
the ether, and the roots of the soil, water
air, all bodies, all spirits, seeds, fruits,
the plants and the grasses, roots, herbs,
beasts and birds, and shoals of the swimming finny creatures.

Behold now in Thy Libya, in Thy august priesthood,
a soul feeble and exhausted, one given up to holy prayers to Thee,
but whom a cloud of matter besets.
But Thine Eye, O Father, pierces matter,
and now my heart, made fruitful with hymns to Thee,
has exited my mind with fiery impulses.
Do Thou, O King, kindle the uplifting beams,
and grant, Father, that, fleeing the body,
(the soul) may ne'er again descend to an earthly doom.

But as long as I remain in the chains of a life
that has commerce with matter,
may a gentle destiny, O Blessed One, nourish me.
May it not blow adversely,
consuming my life with grim cares of the mind,
so that I may have no time for the things of God,
nor be involved in such cares;
but rather fleeing from these, by Thy gifts,
may I weave for thee this garland
from the sacred meadows.

I bring to Thee this praise, Leader of unsullied worlds,
and to Thy wise Son, whom Thou has sent forth from Thy sacred bosom
together with wisdom itself.
Springing forth from Thee,
He remains within Thee,
that He may explore
all things with subtle breathings,
that He may rule the profundities of hoary ages,
and direct the feet of a rugged world,
even unto the last depth of what belongeth to earthly destiny;
his light shining in pious hearts,
that He may release living mortals from their labors, from their cares,
He the Accomplisher of good deeds,
the Chaser away of distress.
And why should it be a thing to wonder at,
that the Maker of the universe keeps
evil destinies from His own works?

I come, O Ruler of the great universe,
to acquit myself of a vow I made to Thee,
even from Thrace,
where for three years I dwelt
in a way near to the king's palace in that land.
And labors I endured,
griefs I endured meet for many tears,
bearing on my shoulders my mother-city.

The earth was watered with the sweat of my limbs
that toiled in the contest day by day,
and my couch was moistened
with the dropping of tears
from my eyelids weeping
from night to night.

And as many temples as were built
for Thy holy ceremonies, O King,
to all these I repaired.
There prostate, a suppliant,
I prayed, watering the ground
with the dew of my eyelids,
that I might not find my journey vain.

I supplicated gods that labor,
even as many as hold the fruitful plain of Thrace,
and those who on the other side
rule the Chalcedonian pastures,
whom Thou, O King,
has crowned with Thy annunciating beams,
to be Thy sacred ministers.

The blessed ones have indeed
taken to them my supplications,
they have engaged in many labors with me.
My life was not at that time dear to me
because my fatherland was so tormented;
but Thou, O King, has lifted it from out its sorrows.

O Ruler of the universe,
Thou, the Ageless,
sustaindest the force of my limbs,
when my soul was already failing
and my members already breaking up.
Thou didst breathe strength into my wretched soul;
a sweet ending to my labors didst Thou find me,
O King, and one according to my desire,
granting to my works a repose from long labors.

Do Thou, I Blessed One,
preserve all these gains for the Libyans
for a long roll of time,
for the sake of the memory of Thy great goodness,
and for the soul that has suffered grievous things.
Give moreover to Thy suppliant a life free from harm,
deliver me from sufferings, deliver me from diseases,
deliver me from cares that bring death;
grant Thy servant a life of the intellect.
Adjudge me not earthly showers of gold,
O King, that may render me without leisure for the things divine,
nor let grim poverty attack my house
and draw down to earth the meditations of my heart,
for both these weigh down the soul to the earth,
and both bring forgetfulness of mind, whensoe'er,
O Blessed One, Thou offerest not Thy help.

O Father, Fountain of pure wisdom,
kindle in my mind a flame of intellect
out of Thy bosom, illumine our heart
out of Thy strength with a gleam of wisdom.
Give this as a symbol of the sacred way to Thee,
even Thine own seal.
Chase from my life and from my prayer
the deadly demons of matter,
preserve my body safe and sound
from the approach of spiteful violence,
and guard in my safety my spirit unpolluted, O King.

In sooth I carry on me already the darkling stain of Matter,
and I am held fast by desires, by earthly chains.
But Thou art my liberator, Thou my purifier.
Release me from evils, from illness, from fetters.
I carry in me Thy seed, the spark of high-born Mind,
but a spark falling down to the depths of matter.

But Thou hast deposited soul in the cosmos,
and through soul hast down mind in the body, O King.
Take pity on thine handmaiden, O Blessed One.
I descended from Thee to be a servant of earth,
instead of living as a hireling, I became a bondslave.
Matter fettered me with magic arts.

For all that, there is still some strength
in the ball of the eye hidden within me,
it has not yet extinguished all its might.

But a great wave has broken over me from above,
blinding the soul that seeth God.
Pity, O Father, Thy suppliant handmaiden,
whom longing for devouring matter strangles,
when ofttimes she strives to ascend
by the paths of mind to thee.

But do Thou, O King, kindle the lights that lead upwards,
do Thou light the gleam and the beacon
by augmenting the scanty seed
in the noblest part of my mind.
Enthrone me, O Father, in the strength of the life-bringing life,
where nature advanceth not her hand, whence nor earth,
nor the fated spinning of Necessity yet makes me recoil.

May false generation leave Thy servant in flight!
Let fire be between me, O Father,
and the tumult of the earth Grant,
O Creator, grant unto Thy minister
now to spread his wings of Mind.
Now at last let the suppliant soul
bear the seal of the Father,
a terror to hostile demons,
who dart aloft from deep lurking places of the earth
to breathe godless impulses upon mortals;
and let this be a sign to Thy pure ministers,
who throughout the depths of the august universe
are keybearers to the fiery ascents,
that they should open wide to me the gates of light,
and that while still creeping upon the vain earth,
I may not be of its soil.

And of the works written in fire give me,
even here, fruit as a witness, sure utterances,
and as many tokens as cherish the hope immortal of souls.

I repent me of this life of clay.
Hence, eyesores of godless mortals,
dominations of cities!
Hence all-sweetened destinies of perdition,
and grace that is no grace,
wherewith the beguiled soul
is held fast in bondage to earth,
the soul which drank,
in its great cowardice,
oblivion of its own good,
until it fell upon envy as its portion.

For debauched matter has twain parts,
and whoso stretches out his hand to the table,
to touch the sweet viands,
will in sooth greatly lament his bitter lot,
when the hostile elements
drag him down with them.

Verily this law of earthly necessity pours out a life
to mortals from two sources,
and the one is unmixed and is pure good, a god or things divine.
I have been inebriated with the sweet cup,
I have touched the lands of evil things,
I have fallen into the snare,
I have known the fate of Epimetheus.

So I hate inconstant laws;
and I hasten to my Father's carefree meadow.
Thither I spread my wings
in flight from the twin gifts of matter.

Behold me, Thou who dost order the mind's life.
Behold Thy suppliant, a soul upon the earth,
striving towards the ascents by mind,
and do Thou kindle, O King,
the lights that lead aloft, giving unto me light wings.

Cut Thou the knot, loose Thou the grip of the twin desires
by which artful Nature bends down souls to the earth.
Grant to me to escape the destiny of the body
and to spring swiftly even to Thy courts,
to Thy bosom, whence floweth forth the fountain of the soul.

A heavenly drop I am shed upon the earth.
Do thou restore me to that fountain
whence I was poured forth,
a wanderer who comes and goes.

Grant me to mingle with ancestral light.
And grant that, cared for by Thee,
the Father, I may with the kingly choir
bear aloft in sanctity the songs of mind.

Grant, O Father, that mingled with the light
I sink not again into an earthly destiny,
but as long as I remain in the chains
of a material life, may a kindly fortune,
O Blessed One, nurture me!

To Thee I sing, when the sacred day beginneth,
to Thee while it waxeth, to Thee when it toucheth the meridian,
to Thee when it declineth, and when cometh wondrous night;
to Thee, Creator, Healer of souls, Healer of limbs,
Giver of wisdom, Banisher of diseases,
Giver to souls of a life free from trouble,
a life which earthly care, mother of griefs,
mother of sufferings, trampleth not under foot.

May my life remain to me purified of these,
that in song I may tell of the hidden root of all things,
nor be turned away from God by delusions that lead astray.

Thee, Blessed One, I sing to,
Lord of the universe, and let earth be silent.

Let all that the universe possesses keep sacred silence,
while hymns and prayers are addressed to Thee,
for they are Thy works, O Father.

Let the whistling winds be still, the rustling of trees, the song of birds;
let the ether be at peace, let the air be at peace, listening to the strain,
and let the gushing waters be noiseless now throughout the earth

Let the demons now flee from my pure prayer,
they that delighting in the realm of darkness and haunting the tombs,
impede holy songs, but the good,
the happy servants of the all-understanding Creator,
as many as occupy the depths and heights of the universe,
let those hear benignly the hymns that are of the Father,
and benignly let them bear my prayers on high.

Unity of units, Father of fathers, the Good of good things,
Star of stars, Universe of universes, Idea of ideas,
profound Beauty, hidden Seed, Father of ages,
Father of unspeakable words of Mind,
whence a divine breath ever distilling,
floating over the masses of body, it now kindleth a second universe.

Thee, Blessed One, I sing to with my voice,
and I sing unto Thee alike with silence,
for as many things as Thou hearest of the voice,
Thou hearest also of the silence of the mind.

And I sing to the Offspring, the First-born, the First-appearing,
Most glorious Offspring of the ineffable Father,
Thee, Blessed One, I hymn, together with the great Father,
and the travail of the Father over Thee,
that Counsel of generation, the medial Beginning,
the Holy Spirit, Center of the Creator, Center again of the Son,
Mother, Sister, and Daughter to Thyself, delivered of the secret Root.\
For in order that the Father might be poured out upon the Son,
that very outpouring found a shoot, and stood in the midst,
God, descended from God, in a Son who was God,
and in the renowned outpouring of an immortal Father,
the Son, found a shoot.

Thou art Unity, Trinity withal, Unity that dost endure,
and a Trinity in very truth Thou art.

And the intellectual division retains still undivided that which is partitioned,
but the Son, though he hath leaped forth, remains with the Father
and yet conducts, without, the Father's business,
bringing down to the worlds the beatitude of life,
whence the Word Himself has it.

This Word I hymn, in unison with the great Father.
The Mind of the ineffable Father brings Thee to birth,
and Thou, so conceived, art the Word of the Creator,
first to leap forward from out the primal Root,
and the Root of all things that came after Thy illustrious birth.

And ineffable Unity, the Seed of all things,
hath begotten Thee, the Seed of all things;
for Thou art in all things,
and through Thee the highest, the medial, and the lowest nature,
enjoy the good gifts of the generative life from God the Father.

For Thee an ageless sphere rolls its untroubled course.
Under Thy direction the seven planets dance in harmony
in the powerful revolutions of the great vault,
and the many lights of the universe adorn
the one dome of the sky by Thy Will,
most renowned Offspring;
for Thou, running round about the heavenly deep,
holdest together unbroken the course of ages,
and under thy sacred ordinances, Blessed One,
in the cavities of the unsoundable ether,
dwells the company of gleaming stars.

Thou dost apportion their tasks in the heavens and the air,
on the earth and in the world below,
and Thou allottest unto them their life.

Thou art the Master of Mind,
and to the gods their Ordainer,
as to morals also,
as many as have quaffed
the showers of Mind's destiny.

Thou art the Giver of Soul
to those whose life is dependent on the soul,
and art tireless in nature.

A blind offspring of soul hangs from Thy chain,
and as many things as are deprived of all breath
pluck from Thy bosom a bond of union,
carried by Thy power from the ineffable Fatherly Bosom, the hidden unity,
whence the stream of life flowing onwards is carried off
by Thy power even unto the earth, through trackless worlds of mind.

Thence the visible cosmos, the form of the world of mind,receives it,
a descending stream of blessings. This (visible cosmos) had a second sun,
the progenitor with shining eyes of a later shining light,
the guardian of that matter which comes into being and perishes,
a Son who is the perceptible impression of Mind,
the purveyor of what good things are born in the universe,
born through thy will, most august Offspring,
Father unknowable, Father ineffable,
Unknowable to Mind, Unutterable in speech.

Thou art the Mind of minds, the Soul of souls, the Nature of natures.
Lo, I bend the knee before Thee, a servant,
I cast myself upon the ground, a blind suppliant;
but do Thou, the Giver of light, the light of Mind,
take pity, O Blessed One, on a suppliant soul;
chase away diseases, chase away cares that gnaw the soul,
and chase way the shameless hound of the netherworld, the demon of earth,
from my soul, from my prayer, from my life, from my works.

Let the demon remain outside of my body,
of my spirit, and of all that is mine.
Let him flee, let him leave me, the demon of matter, the power of sufferings,
who builds his fortress wall against the path that leadeth above,
who violateth the aspirations that seek God;
and give me a companion, O King,
a partner, a sacred messenger of sacred power,
a messenger of prayer illumined by the divine light,
a friend, a dispenser of noble gifts,
a guard of my soul, a guard of my life,
a guard over prayers, a guard over deeds,
and one to save the body purified of disease
to save the spirit purified of shame.

And bring my to my soul oblivion of its passions,
that the soul's winged flight may also enrich
the earth-nourished life with hymns of Thee,
to the end too that I may complete the life
that comes with destiny after the chains
that weighs us down to the earth,
a life purified of matter,
even unto thy courts and unto thy Bosom
whence outdwelleth the fountain of the soul.

And do Thou extend to me thy Hand;
do Thou call, Blessed One,
do Thou lift up from matter a suppliant soul.

Let us sing to the Son of the Bride,
the Bride not wedded
for destined wedlock with man.
The ineffable designs of the Father
produced the birth of Christ.
The sacred travail of a Bride
revealed the form of Man,
who came bringing a fountain of light to mortals;
and this ineffable Offspring
knows the Root of the ages.

Thou Thyself art the Light
from the Fountain-head,
the ray that has shone
along with the Father,
that, having broken through murky matter,
dost shine in pious souls.

'Tis Thou Who art the Founder of the universe,
the Fashioner of the spheres of famous stars,
the Founder of the centers of the earth,
and Thou art Thyself the Saviour of men.

For Thee the Titan drives his horses,
the unquenchable source of morning,
for Thee the horned moon
dissipates the shades of night.
For Thee also are fruits begotten,
and herds do graze.

Sending out from Thy ineffable source a light-giving splendor,
Thou fillest with nourishment the interlaced roots of the universe.
Out of Thy profundities have blossomed forth light and mind and soul.
Take pity upon Thy daughter imprisoned in mortal limbs
and the material limits of destiny.

Preserve Thou the force of my limbs unscathed from the ravage of disease.
Grant persuasiveness to my word and glory to my deeds,
even such as may become the traditions of Cyrene and Sparta;
and may my soul, untrodden by grief, draw to itself a gentle nourishing light,
straining a pair of eyes upon Thy Light, so that escaping from matter
I may hasten on the unchanging paths, a fugitive from the sufferings of earth,
to mingle with the Fountain-head of the soul.

Mayest Thou achieve such an unstained life to Thy Root,
the greatest glory of the Father, and the Spirit that shareth throne midway
between the Root and the Branch, and in singing the might of the Father,
I lull to rest, with hymns to Thee, the glorious travail of my soul.

Hail, Source of the Son, hail.
Form of the Father, hail.
Throne of the Son, hail.
Seal of the Father, hail.
Strength of the Son, hail.
Beauty of the Father, hail.
Breath undefiled, Center of the Son and of the Father,
mayst Thou send to me with the Father
the mistress of divine gifts, to water the wings of my soul.

In union with the Holy Self-engendered Fountain
that surpasseth the unspeakable unities,
I will crown with wise garlands of hymns,
God, the glorious Son of the eternal God,
One Offspring that leapt forth from the Father,
Whom the indescribable birthpang of the Fatherly Will
has made manifest, A Son out of His unknowable Bosom,
the birth-pang which has displayed the fruits of the Father's begetting,
and, in bringing them to light, has been revealed Mind, fixed in the medial.

And so there remain in the Fountain, poured round about,
the wisdom of the Father's Mind, the splendor of His beauty.

To Thee, the Engendered, the Father has granted to engender.
Thou art the hidden Seed of the Father;
for the Father gave Thee to universes as their beginning,
that forms might be brought down to material bodies
from the entities of Mind.

Thou guidest the wise vault of heaven,
and ever leadest to their pasturage the flock of stars.
Thou rulest, O King, the choir angelic
and the company of the spirits,
and Thou dost dance around perishable nature.

Thou returnest to its fountain-head what was already been bestowed,
releasing mortals from the necessities of death.

Be propitious to these garlands of songs to Thee,
and grant calm life to a poet of hymns.
Stay Thou the changing mouth of the channels,
and dry up the destructive billows of matter.

Keep disease far from my mind and limbs.
Calm the fatal onslaught of passion,
keep off from me the dooms of poverty and of riches alike,
give renowned glory to my deeds,
spread abroad my good fame amongst the peoples,
adorn me with the fairest garland of gently-worded persuasion,
that my mind may calmly gather leisure,
and that I may not groan under earthly cares,
but from Thy lofty channels through the birth-passage of wisdom
may I inundate my mind.

I was the first to find the measure established in new harmonies
wherewith to smite the strings of the lyre in praise of Thee,
Blessed One Immortal, illustrious Offspring of the Virgin, Jesus of Solyma.
Be propitious, O King, and accept my strain of sacred melody.

We shall sing of the imperishable God, the great Son of God,
the world-creating Son of the Father, Who hath given birth to the ages,
the nature mingled of all things, the boundless wisdom,
a God to heavenly beings, a curse to those of the underworld.

What time Thou wert poured forth on the earth,
even out of a mortal womb, the inventive art of the Magus was helpless,
and he wondered from the rising star, what manner of infant had been born,
who might be this God concealed, God, or nether shade or king.

Come, bring Thy gifts, offerings of myrrh, presents of gold,
fine perfume of frankincense.
God Thou art, receive Thou the incense;
I bring gold to my Kin, His grave will befit the myrrh.

Thou has purified the land, the wavers of the sea, and the paths of the demons,
the swift outflow of air, and the recesses of the internal regions.
Thou wert sent, being God, to Hades, to the assistance of the dead.
But be propitious, O King, and accept my strains of sacred songs.

In a somewhat Dorian cadence,
I will lift up a clear song on my ivory-laid lyre,
in Thy honor, Blessed Immortal [Christ],
Offspring Illustrious of the Virgin [Mary];
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 previous wisdom with health.

And mayst Thou preserve my brother [Euoptius] 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 supplicant's sake.

Preserve Thou my sister [Stratonice], and a pair of children.[1]

All the house of the sons of Hesychius 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 the piteous anguish,
freed from the fetters of earthly life;
and grant me to raise hymns with the choirs of the holy,
in honor 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.

Note 1: It is possible that this refers to Synesius' own children, in which case this hymn can not have been a marriage song.

Most beloved august Offspring of the Virgin of Solyma,
to Thee, Blessed One, I sing.

Thou has expelled the serpent of the earth,
that fountain-head of treachery, from the garden of the Father,
even the serpent who offered the abjured fruit,
nourisher of troublous destiny, to the primal youth.

To Thee I sing, Illustrious Father, that wearest the crown,
Son of the Virgin of Solyma.

Thou didst descend even to the earth, sojourner of a day,
bearing a mortal body, and didst go down beneath to Tartarus,
where death reigned over nations of souls in thousands.
And then shuddered at Thee the aged ancient Hades,
and his hound, the devourer of man, drew back from the threshold;
and Thou, delivering choirs of righteous souls from their woes,
dost raise, with unpolluted bands, hymns to the Father.

To Thee I sing, Illustrious Father that wearest the crown,
Son of the Virgin of Solyma.

The boundless races of demons throughout the air trembled
at Thy ascent, O King. The ambrosial choir of the stars immaculate
was seized with awe; and ether laughing, wise father of harmony,
blended upon the seven-stringed lyre a hymn of victory to Thy might.

The harbringer of dawn smiled, the messenger of day,
and golden Hesperus, the star of Cytherea.
The moon filling with a stream of fire its horned light,
led the way, the shepherd of the gods of night.

Titan spread out his far-flaming hair under the ineffable track,
and recognized the Offspring of God, Mind,
the Artificer of all that is best, and the origin of his own flame.

But Thou, in winged flight, didst leap over the black of the azure sky,
and didst take Thy place amongst the inviolate spheres of the Mind,
wherein is the fountain of good things, the heaven that is kept secret,
where there is neither deep-flowing time that draggeth
with untiring foot the offspring of the earth,
nor the shameless destinies of matter's billowy depths,
but an age born of the distant past, though ageless itself,
old and yet withal ever young,
is to the gods the guardian of their eternal mansion.

O Christ, Son of God
who reigneth above,
remember Thy servant,
by destiny a sinner,
who writeth these words,
and grant my release
from passions that bring death,
which are implanted in me,
a sullied soul.

Grant me,
O Savior Jesus,
to behold Thy divine light,
that appearing there
I may sing a song
to the Healer of souls,
the Healer of bodies,
together with the mighty Father
and the Holy Spirit.