Orphic Hymn 32

To Pallas

Only-begotten, noble race of Jove, Blessed and fierce, who joy’st in caves to rove: O warlike Pallas, whose illustrious kind, Ineffable, and effable we find: Magnanimous and fam’d, the rocky height, And groves, and shady mountains thee delight: In arms rejoicing, who with furies dire And wild the souls of mortals dost inspire. Gymnastic virgin of terrific mind, Dire Gorgon’s bane, unmarried, blessed, kind: Mother of arts, impetuous; understood As fury by the bad, but wisdom by the good. Female and male, the arts of war are thine, O much-form’d, dragoness, inspir’d, divine: O’er the Phlegrean giants, rous’d to ire, Thy coursers driving with destruction dire. Sprung from the head of Jove, of splendid mien, Purger of evils, all-victorious queen. Hear me, O Goddess, when to thee I pray, With supplicating voice both night and day, And in my latest hour give peace and health, Propitious times, and necessary wealth, And ever present be thy vot’ries aid, O much implor’d, art’s parent, blue-ey’d maid.