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Mithras, God of the morning, our trumpets waken the wall! ' |
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Rome is above nations, but thou art over all' |
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Mithras, God of the morning, our trumpets waken the wall! ' |
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Rome is above nations, but thou art over all' |
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Now as the names are answered, and the guards are marched away, |
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Mithras, also a soldier, give us strenght for the day! |
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Mithras, God of the sunset, low on the western main, |
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Thou descending immortal, immortal to rise again! |
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Now when the watch is ended, now when the wine is drawn |
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Mithras also a soldier, keep us pure till the dawn! |
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Many roads thou has fashioned: all of them lead to the light, |
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Mithras, the soul of a soldier, teach us to die aright. |
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Mithras! Mithras! |
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Mithras, god of midnight, here were the great bull dies, |
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Look on thy childern in darkness, oh take our sacrifice! |
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Mithras, God of the noontide, the heather swims in the heat, |
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Our helmets scorch our foreheads; our sandals burn our feet, |
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Now in the ungrit hour; now ere we blink and drowse, |
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Mithras also a soldier, keep us true to our vows! |
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Mithras, God of midnight, here where the great bull dies, |
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Look on thy childern in darkness, oh take our sacrifice! |
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Many roads thou has fashioned: all of them lead to the light, |
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Mithras, also a soldier, teach us to die aright. |
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Mithras! Mithras! |
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Mithras! Mithras! |
