Hail, Aradia! From the Amalthean horn

Pour forthy they store of love; I lowly bend

Before thee, I adore thee to the end

With loving sacrifice they shrine adorn.

They foot is to my lip, my prayer upborns

Upon the rising incense-smoke; then spend

Thine ancient love, O Mighty One, descend

To aid me, who without thee am forlorn.