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  A SONG TO MITHRAS

  _Mithras, God of the Morning, our trumpets waken the Wall!_ _'Rome is above the Nations, but Thou art over all!'_ _Now as the names are answered and the guards are marched away,_ _Mithras, also a soldier, give us strength for the day!_

  _Mithras, God of the Noontide, the heather swims in the heat,_ _Our helmets scorch our foreheads; our sandals burn our feet!_ _Now in the ungirt hour; now ere we blink and drowse,_ _Mithras, also a soldier, keep us true to our vows!_

  _Mithras, God of the Sunset, low on the Western main,_ _Thou descending immortal, immortal to rise again!_ _Now when the watch is ended, now when the wine is drawn,_ _Mithras, also a soldier, keep us pure till the dawn!_

  _Mithras, God of the Midnight, here where the great bull lies,_ _Look on thy children in darkness. Oh take our sacrifice!_ _Many roads Thou hast fashioned: all of them lead to the Light,_ _Mithras, also a soldier, teach us to die aright!_

  THE WINGED HATS