I call to Nemausus of the holy grove,
the thick-grown wood, the dark and tangled wild,
god of the sweet-water spring, easer of pain,
healer of the sick and the wounded. Nemausus,
long have men and women prayed for your blessing,
placing their trust in your goodness; long is the tale
of the rich and ancient city that bears your name,
the city yet held and preserved by your might.
Companion of the mothers who attend to all,
master of the shining temple, the wholesome well,
yours is the gift of favor and fortune,
yours the shelter of certainty: I praise your name.

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