From the Homeric Hymns, Thelma
Sargent Translator
Speak to me, Muse, of the
son beloved of Hermes
Goat-footed, two-horned lover
of noisy confusion,
Who cavorts through the woodland
dells with the dancing nyphs-
They who lightly tred the
steep rocky cliffs that are shunned
Even by goats,
Calling aloud to the shepherd
god Pan,
Bright-haired and disheveled,Who
has for his share every snow-
covered ridge
The towering summits of mountains,
and sheer rock-slabbed steeps.
Hither and thither through
the dense thickets he wanders,
Now drawn from his course
by gently murmuring streams,
Now clambering over high
rocky cliffs,
Ascending thethe uttermost
peak that stands watch over flocks as
they graze.
Often he runs through the
lofty white-shining mountains
And ofter over the slopes
in the chase,
keen eyed and alert,
Killing wild beasts.
Home from the hunt returning
at evening
He sounds his lonely note,
playing sweet songs
On his pipes of reed,
Not even that bird can surpass
him in song
Who in blossoming springtime
pours forth her lament from
leafy bower
Greiving in honey-sweet tones.
Then the clear-singing nymphs
of the mountain
who wander the woodland lightfooted,
with Pan
sing by a spring of black
water,
And about the high peak of
the mountain Echo resounds.
The God glides in and out
in the dance,
On this side and that,
Now prancing on nimble hooves
in the very midst of the chorus,
Wearing the tawney pelt of
the lynx on his shoulders.
His heart exalting in musics
shrill sweetness
there in the soft meadow
Where, tangled in grass,
crocus and sweet smelling hyacinth
bloom intermingled
the Blessed Gods they chant
and lofty Olympus
and they sing of luck-bringing
Hermes above all others:
How he as swift messenger
serves all the Gods,
And how he arrives in Arcadia,
land rich in fountains.
Mother of flocks
Where lies his sacred precinct
Cyllene.
There though a God, he tended
a flock of shaggy-fleeced sheep\In
the hire of a mortal,
For tender longing came of
a sudden upon him
and grew, to lie united in
love
With the daughter of Dryops,
nymph with beautiful tresses,
And he brought to pass the
felicitous marriage.
Dryope bore in the women's
halls of the palace a dear son to Hermes
From the beginning a marvelous
sight to behold:
Goat footer, two horned,
delighting in noice
Gaily laughing.
The nurse, when she looked
on his hideous fade,
fully bearded,
Sprang up and fled from the
baby, sorely afraid.
But luck-bringing Hermes,
receiving his son at once
Took him into his arms, his
heart filled with joy beyond measure,
And swiftly he went to the
seat of the undying gods
With the child warmly wrapped
in the skins of mountain-bred
hares,
And laid him down beside
Zeus
and presented his son to
the other immortals.
All the undying gods rejoiced
in their hearts,
But Wild Dionysus beyond
all the rest,
And they called him Pan,
because he delighted all hearts.
Thus Lord, Farewell:
With my song may I please
you
I will always remember you,
and with still more songs.