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To Dionysos


I begin to sing of ivy-haired Dionysos, load-roaring,
Shining son of Zeus and of glorious Semele,
He whom the fine-haired Nymphs reared, when they took him
From his lord father into their bosoms,
And [whom] they tended steadfastly
In the vales of Nysa: there by his father’s grace he grew to adulthood
In a sweet-smelling cave, counted among the undying.
And when the goddesses had reared him – much-hymned – in full,
Then, garlanded with ivy and laurel, he went roaming through wooded mountain-steams,
And the Nymphs went in his train, and he led them,
And a great sound possessed the endless woods.
And so hail to you, grape-rich Dionysos:
Grant that we may come suppliant, rejoicing in fitting season,
And for fitting seasons in turn, for many years [ahead].
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