Apollo Loimios

Apollo, chief of harmony,
And that maintained in purity;
When soul and body are in health,
Then only man finds perfect wealth.
Ablutions, absolutions, both
Though sometimes hard, so men are loathe
To heed physicians, yet when truth
Is guide their balms do only soothe.
And who can purify both soul
And body, make them to be whole?
It’s none but Leto’s golden son,
By whom all illness is undone.
His shaft is notched; he bends his bow;
He looses: gluttons are brought low.
A rain of arrows spreads disease,
But health he gives to them who please,
That is, the temperate, fit, and wise;
The balanced he with good supplies.
His will with skill he does exert,
Moving all in proper concert;
The stars in heaven, music too,
He fitly orders through and through:
Discordant sounds he will not hear,
To ugly souls he won’t appear;
He suffers chaos not to reign:
But lawless souls are timely slain.

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