Titan Ocean, obscure and churning deep,
Across whose face men’s ships do swiftly sweep.
Encircling all the earth with your embrace,
The source of life to all in every place.
Three thousand daughters, young and beautiful,
Whose springs are pure, clear fountains, bountiful,
Are yours. Beloved, they satisfy the thirst
Of mortals; through the whole world they’re dispersed.
The lakes, your liquid daughters, cut away
From you, abound with fish who swim and play;
If caught and pulled from out their watery ponds,
They thrash and strive to break free from their bonds.
With roars you crash against the land; the rocks
Cannot withstand for long your awful shocks:
They wear away, and sink beneath your waves.
Your swirling depths to many are their graves.
Abounding, full of riches, who can beat
Your strength; for you alone make your retreat,
Whose tides come in, then flow back to their source,
Retaining your magnificence and force.


Necessity, whose being all commands,
And firmly holds the gods themselves in bands,
Like oxen under yoke you move us all,
And make the world itself your faithful thrall.
The mother of the Fates, who sets the course
Of all of heaven on its way by force.
Though one resist, he’ll surely learn with dread
He can but acquiesce and bow his head;
And who would search, he will find respite;
With you the gods refuse to make a fight.
Suffused through all the world unto its bound,
The paths that all must tread in you are found;
And stronger far than iron is your will:
What you decree must every one fulfill.


To Earth, the fruitful mother, ever young,
To whom we owe our birth, our praise is sung.
The Titans, gods, the monsters, mortals, call
You by the name of mother one and all.
From you the Titans sprang; the gods you nursed,
Great monsters rose from you, though they were cursed;
Of mortals every kind came from your womb,
And whatsoever plant does sprout and bloom;
And every skill to raise them you employ,
Their flourishing is all your care and joy.
All parent of your children’s life the source,
The moon around you runs her nightly course;
As gifts the sun sends you his beaming rays.
Your spinning dance marks all our life our days.
Your inner reaches, hidden depths profound,
Whom Heaven loves, encircling all around.
Let all your children reverence you and show
Great honour for those gifts which you bestow.