A Prayer to Isis
Meditation for a friend who saw something else in me, who died last week.
“Oh holy and eternal comfort of humankind, who ever nurtures mortals with your generosity, you apply a mother’s sweet affection to the misfortunes of the wretched. Not a day or night or even a little moment goes by indifferent to your blessing.
“You protect men on land and sea. Driving away life’s storms, you reach out with your saving hand and you unwind the threads of the Fates, even those that are inextricably twisted. You calm the tempests of Fortune and you restrain the hurtful course of the stars.
“The spirits above honour you, the ones below worship you. You turn the sphere of heaven, you give light to the sun, you govern the universe, and you keep Tartarus at bay. To you, the heavenly bodies reply, the seasons return, the divine power gives praise, and the elements give their devotion.
“At your command, the winds give breath, the clouds nourish, the seeds of the earth sprout forth, and their seedlings grow. At your greatness tremble the birds moving in the sky, the beasts wandering the hills, the serpents hiding in the den, and the monsters that swim in the deep.
“My nature, however, is too feeble to speak your praises, my inheritance too meager to offer you sacrifices. My voice does not have the power to say what I feel about your greatness—nor would a thousand mouths and as many tongues, or even an eternal flow of indefatigable speech.
“I will, therefore, take care to do the only thing a pious but poor person can do: I will hold your divine expression and your most holy will in the secret places of my heart, forever keeping them and remembering.”
‘Tu quidem, sancta et humani generis sospitatrix perpetua, semper fouendis mortalibus munifica, dulcem matris affectionem miserorum casibus tribuis. Nec dies nec quies ulla ac ne momentum quidem tenue tuis transcrrit beneficiis otiosum, quin mari terraque protegas homines et depulsis uitae procellis salutarem porrigas dexteram, qua fatorum etiam inextricabiliter contorta retractas licia, et Fortunae tempestates mitigas, et stellarum noxios meatus cohibes. Te superi colunt, obseruant inferi. Tu rotas orbem, luminas solem, regis mundum, calcas Tartarum. Tibi respondent sidera, redeunt tempora, gaudent numina, seruiunt elementa. Tuo nutu spirant flamina, nutriunt nubila, germinant semina, crescunt germina. Tuam maiestatem perhorrescunt aues caelo meantes, ferae montibus errantes, serpentes solo latentes, beluae ponto natantes. At ego referendis laudibus tuis exilis ingenio et adhibendis sacrificiis tenuis patrimonio; nec mihi uocis ubertas ad dicenda quae de ta maiestate sentio sufficit, nec ora mille linguaeque totidem uel indefessi sermonis aeterna series. Ergo quod solum potest, religiosus quidem sed pauper alioquin, efficere curabo: diuinos tuos uultus numenque sanctissimum intra pectoris mei secreta conditum perpetuo custodiens imaginabor.’