To Pan

Samantha Frye

Haunting meadows, Ekho whispering across the valley fertile,
Wild-eyed nymphs flee in laughing sport from Pan double horned.
Beloved of all the deathless gods, wild-crowned son of Epimelios,
The prankish-loving, shepherd-adoring, nymphs play just beyond,
The wily, goat-hooved god whom vigilant shepherds adore!

Sing with charmed delight, Muses all. To this son come and gather,
To the far-sprung meadows, amogn the lonely speckled hills,
Butterflies flutter and in gust air play, little dancers spinning.
Dionysos perhaps does not rest too far, whose company Pan adores,
For he can be oftenfound at the side of the vine-wreathed laughing lord.

Hail Pan, hail Nomios, at the forest edge, grassy hills and moutain embrace,
Great haunter of your rich terrestrial domain, your pipes hidden sing.
As you drive the wooly bleating herds, Phorbas, panic you drive.
Wildly, crashing through, panic takes wing before your risen staff.
Perhaps it is credit due to your pipes and their ghostly singing tune,
What laughing delight you take in the rushed andorphines of fright,
That causes men to strip away the civilized, and dart about like beasts.

Wild-maned, craggy-browed, a curving smile, a mocking grin,
Kindly bountiful god, Agrotas, ladden with the earth’s great wealth,
Oh how the Earth smiles at your antics, and with laughter shakes,
For the pracing lifting gate as you dance in Bacchid celebration!
But to her gift you do acclaim, and at your cave wisely speak.

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