Incense: various odors
Strong pastoral Pan, with suppliant voice I call,
Heaven, sea, and earth, the mighty queen of all,
Immortal fire; for all the world is thine,
And all are parts of thee, O power divine.
Come, blessed Pan, whom rural haunts delight,
Come, leaping, agile, wandering, starry light.
Throned with the Seasons, Bacchanalian Pan,
Goat-footed, horned, from whom the world began;
Whose various parts, by thee inspired, combine
In endless dance and melody divine.
In thee a refuge from our fears we find,
Those fears peculiar to the human kind.
Thee, shepherds, streams of water, goats rejoice,
Thou loves the chase, and Echo’s secret voice:
The sportive Nymphs thy every step attend,
And all thy works fulfill their destined end.
O all-producing power, much-famed, divine,
The world’s great ruler, rich increase is thine.
All-fertile Paean, heavenly splendor pure,
In fruits rejoicing, and in caves obscure.
True serpent-horned Jove, whose dreadful rage,
When roused, it’s hard for mortals to assuage.
By thee the earth wide-bosomed, deep and long,
Stands on a basis permanent and strong.
The unwearied waters of the rolling sea,
Profoundly spreading, yield to thy decree.
Old Ocean, too, reveres thy high command,
Whose liquid arms begird the solid land.
The spacious air, whose nutrimental fire
And vivid blasts the heat of life inspire;
The lighter frame of fire, whose sparkling eye
Shines on the summit of the azure sky,
Submit alike to thee, whole general sway
All parts of matter, various formed, obey.
All nature’s change through thy protecting care,
And all mankind thy liberal bounties share;
For these, wherever dispersed through boundless space,
Still find thy providence support their race.
Come, Bacchanalian, blessed power, draw near,
Enthusiastic Pan, thy humble suppliants hear,
Propitious to these holy rites attend,
And grant our lives may meet a prosperous end;
Drive panic fury too, wherever found,
From humankind to earth’s remotest bound.