With personal drama behind me I have more time for my studies and blogging – enjoy this latest set of hymns. This post includes invocations to titan gods (from outside the homeric and orphic hymns)- perfect for anyone dedicated to those deities.

Artemis

“To thee I kneel, thou shooter of deer, flaxen-

haired child of Zeus, Artemis queen of wild beasts,

who now doubtless lookest down rejoicing beside the

eddies of Lethaeus upon a city of valiant hearts ; for

tliou art sliepherd to no savage flock of men”

-Anacreon

To multiple gods

“Oh! almighty Zeus, and thou, god with the golden lyre, who reignest on sacred Delos, and thou, oh, invincible virgin, Pallas, with the eyes of azure and the spear of gold, who protectest our illustrious city, and thou, the daughter of the beautiful Leto, queen of the forests, who art adored under many names, hasten hither at my call. Come, thou mighty Posidon, king of the Ocean, leave thy stormy whirlpools of Nereus; come, goddesses of the seas, come, ye nymphs, who wander on the mountains.”

-Aristophanes, Thesmophoriazusae

Nike

“Nike, who smiles on us and fights with us against our

rivals. Oh! goddess! manifest yourself to our sight; this day more

than ever we deserve that you should ensure our triumph.”

–Aristophanes, Knights

“Nike, giver of sweetness, to you the father, son of Ouranos (Uranus), on his high bench has granted glorious honour, so that in gold-rich Olympos you stand beside Zeus and judge the outcome of prowess for immortals and mortals: be gracious, daughter of thick-tressed, right-judging Styx”

– Bacchylides, Fragment 11

Kronos

Invocation to the titan king who shouldn’t be confused with the

primordial god of time.

“I call you, the

great, holy, the one who created the whole inhabited world, against whom the

transgression was committed by your own son , you whom Helios bound with

adamantine fetters lest the universe be mixed together, you

hermaphrodite, father of the thunderbolt, you who hold down those under the earth, aie oi paidalis

PHRENOTEICHEIDO STYGARDES SANKLEON / GENECHRONA KOIRAPSAI KERIDEU

THALAMNIA ochota anedei; come, master, god, and tell me by necessity con-

cerning the NN matter, for I am the one who revolted against you, paidolis

mainolis mainolieus.”

-Greek magical papyri

Theia

“Mother of Helios, Theia, goddess of many names, thanks to

thee men ascribe to gold a strength exceeding all other powers that

are. For ships that sail the seas in rivalry and racing chariot steeds

for thy honour, O queen, rise to the height of wondrous deeds amidst

the whirling wheels of struggle. And in the contests of the Games, he

reaps that prize of glory that all hearts desire.”

-Pindar

Hygieia

“Hygieia, most revered of the blessed gods,

May I dwell with you for the rest of my life,

And may you be the gracious inmate of my house.

For if there is any delight in wealth or in offspring,

Or in royal dominion which makes men equal to gods, or in those desires

Which we seek to capture by Aphrodite’s hidden nets,

Or if any other joy or rest from toil has been revealed to men by the gods,

It is with your help, blessed Hygieia,

That they all flourish and shine in the Graces’ discourse;

But without you, no man is happy.”

-Ariphron

Nephelai

Nephelai are the nymphs of the clouds and rain.

“Come, oh! Nephelai, whom I adore, come and show yourselves to this man, whether you be resting on the sacred summits of Olympos, crowned with hoar-frost, or tarrying in the gardens of Oceanus, your father, forming sacred Choruses with the Nymphs.”

-Aristophanes, Clouds

“Come, oh! Nephelai, whom I adore, come and show yourselves to this man, whether you be resting on the sacred summits of Olympos, crowned with hoar-frost, or tarrying in the gardens of Oceanus, your father, forming sacred Choruses with the Nymphs; whether you be gathering the waves of the Nile in golden vases or dwelling in the Maiotic marsh or on the snowy rocks of Mimas, hearken to my prayer and accept my offering. May these sacrifices be pleasing to you.”

–Aristophanes, Clouds

Eileithyia

The minor Olympian goddess of childbirth.

“Goddess of childbirth, Eileithyia, maid to the throne of the deep-thinking Moirai, child of all-powerful Hera, hear my song. For without thee should we see neither the light of day, nor know the kindly dark, nor win the gift of Hebe, thy sister, the glorious limbs of youth.”

-Pindar

Tyche

“Tyche, beginning and end for mankind, you sit in Sophia’s seat and give honour to mortal deeds; from you comes more good than evil, grace shines about your gold wing, and what the scale of your balance gives is the happiest; you see a way out of the impasse in troubles, and you bring bright light in darkness, you most excellent of gods.”

– Stobaeus Anthology

“O Goddess, whose indulgence sways Fair Antium sounding with thy praise, Whose influence can exalt the meanest slave, Or turn triumphant pomps to sorrow and the grave: Thee the poor farmer’s anxious pray’r Solicits, that his fields may bear; Thee, mistress of the main, the sailor hails, As his Bithynian bark o’er Cretan billows sails. Thee the vague Scythians, Dacian rude, And cities, nations unsubdu’d, The Latian fierce for battle far and near, Thee the barbaric queens and purple tyrants fear. Let not your hurtful foot displace The pillar standing on its base, Nor let the thronging populace rebel, And roaring out to arms! to arms the state compel. Necessity precedes thy band, With nails and wedges in her hand, Her brazen hand, nor is the hook, nor, hot With execrable death, the melted lead forgot. Thee hope, and faith, so scarce, revere, And cloath’d in white are ever near, And still themselves of your own train profess, Howe’er you bilk the great, and change your seat and dress. The faithless mob and courtezan Behave upon another plan; And all your friends, when they have drank you dry, The burthen they should share, in base desertion fly. Yet, yet propitiate Caesar’s scheme On Britain, and the world’s extreme, And all our new recruits, that well might brave The eastern continent, and Erythrean wave. O fie upon the barb’rous times, Fraternal wounds, and civil crimes, What has this iron-age refus’d to do! What have we left untouch’d, that honest hearts shou’d rue! Our youth, where have they been restrain’d: What altars are there left unstain’d — Yet ‘gainst the Scythian and Arabian foe May all our new-forg’d weapons by thy guidance go!”

-Horace

Aphrodite

“Delight of Human kind, and Gods above;

Parent of Rome; Propitious Queen of Love;

Whose vital pow’r, Air, Earth, and Sea supplies;

And breeds what e’r is born beneath the rowling Skies:

For every kind, by thy prolifique might,

Springs, and beholds the Regions of the light:

Thee, Goddess thee, the clouds and tempests fear,

And at thy pleasing presence disappear:

For thee the Land in fragrant Flow’rs is drest,

For thee the Ocean smiles, and smooths her wavy breast;

And Heav’n it self with more serene, and purer light is blest.

For when the rising Spring adorns the Mead,

And a new Scene of Nature stands display’d,

When teeming Budds, and chearful greens appear,

And Western gales unlock the lazy year,

The joyous Birds thy welcome first express,

Whose native Songs thy genial fire confess:

Then savage Beasts bound o’re their slighted food,

Strook with thy darts, and tempt the raging floud:

All Nature is thy Gift; Earth, Air, and Sea:

Of all that breathes, the various progeny,

Stung with delight, is goaded on by thee.

O’er barren Mountains, o’er the flow’ry Plain,

The leavy Forest, and the liquid Main

Extends thy uncontroul’d and boundless reign.

Through all the living Regions dost thou move,

And scattr’st, where thou goest, the kindly seeds of Love:

Since then the race of every living thing,

Obeys thy pow’r; since nothing new can spring

Without thy warmth, without thy influence bear,

Or beautiful, or lovesome can appear,

Be thou my ayd: My tuneful Song inspire,

And kindle with thy own productive fire;

While all thy Province Nature, I survey,

And sing to Memmius an immortal lay

Of Heav’n, and Earth, and every where thy wond’rous pow’r display.

To Memmius, under thy sweet influence born,

Whom thou with all thy gifts and graces dost adorn.

The rather, then assist my Muse and me,

Infusing Verses worthy him and thee.

Mean time on Land and Sea let barb’rous discord cease,

And lull the listening world in universal peace.

To thee, Mankind their soft repose must owe,

For thou alone that blessing canst bestow;

Because the brutal business of the War

Is manag’d by thy dreadful Servant’s care:

Who oft retires from fighting fields, to prove

The pleasing pains of thy eternal Love:

And panting on thy breast, supinely lies,

While with thy heavenly form he feeds his famish’d eyes:

Sucks in with open lips, thy balmy breath,

By turns restor’d to life, and plung’d in pleasing death.

There while thy curling limbs about him move,

Involv’d and fetter’d in the links of Love,

When wishing all, he nothing can deny,

Thy charms in that auspicious moment try;

With winning eloquence our peace implore,

And quiet to the weary World restore.”

-Lucretius