| Rudyard Kipling (1865–1936). Verse: 1885–1918. 1922. | | | | A Song to Mithras |
| | (Hymn of the XXX Legion: circa 350 A.D.)
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! | |
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| Mithras, God of the Noontide, the heather swims in the heat. | 5 |
| 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! | |
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| Mithras, God of the Sunset, low on the Western main— | |
| Thou descending immortal, immortal to rise again! | 10 |
| Now when the watch is ended, now when the wine is drawn, | |
| Mithras, also a soldier, keep us pure till the dawn! | |
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| Mithras, God of the Midnight, here where the great bull dies, | |
| Look on thy children in darkness. Oh take our sacrifice! | |
| Many roads thou hast fashioned—all of them lead to the Light, | 15 |
| Mithras, also a soldier, teach us to die aright! | | | | |
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