Prayer to Ares

Come, warlike Ares;
lay down thy shield and spear for a brief space,
and from thy helmet loose thy glistering locks.
Haply thou mayest ask,
“What has a poet to do with Mars?”
From thee the month which now I sing doth take its name.
Thyself dost see that fierce wars are waged by Minerva’s hands.
Is she for that the less at leisure for the liberal arts?
After the pattern of Pallas take a time to put aside the lance.
Thou shalt find something to do unarmed.
Then, too, wast thou unarmed when the Roman priestess captivated thee,
that thou mightest bestow upon this city a great seed.