Enjoy this series of hymns from classical texts. It would be impossible to recreate the Dionysian mysteries but it would make sense to incorporate what we know about the mysteries into worship of Bacchos: ritual drug use and electing women to lead his worship.

Dionysus

“[The Boiotian Bacchantes] called on Bacchus [Dionysos] by his many

noble names: Lyaeus, Bromius; child of flaming fire; alone twice

mothered and alone twice born; great lord and planter of the genial

grape; Nyseus too, and Lenaeus and Thyoneus, whose locks are never

shorn; Nyctelius, Iacchus, Euhan, father Eleleus; and all the

countless titles that are yours, Liber [Dionysos], throughout the

lands of Greece.”

-Ovid, Metamorphoses

“Blesséd, blesséd are those who know the mysteries of the god. Blesséd

is he who hallows his life in the worship of the god, he whom the

spirit of the god posseseth, who is one with those who belong to the

holy body of the god. Blesséd are the dancers and those who are

purified, who dance on the hill in the holy dance of the god. Blesséd

are they who keep the rite of Kebele the Mother. Blesséd are the

thyrsus-bearers, those who wield in their hands the holy wand of the

god. Blesséd are those who wear the crown of the ivy of the god.

Blesséd, blesséd are they: Dionysos is their god!”

-The Bacchae

“From the Asian land After leaving sacred Tmôlos I speed— A toil for

Bromios that is sweet, And a worn but happy weariness— Crying out to

the Bacchic god. Who is in the road? Who is on the road? Who is in the

palace? Have every person come out! Have each one hold a quiet tongue

in sacred silence. I am hymning Dionysus In the customs that are

always used. You are blessed if you are lucky To know the rites of the

gods And lead a pure life; And join your soul to the band Of Bacchic

revelers on the mountains In the sacred cleansing worship. Taking care

of the Great mother’s mysteries Shaking the thyrsus all about once you

are wreathed in ivy, you tend to Dionysus! Go, Bacchae, Go Bacchae,

Lead on this Bromios, a divine child of a god, Dionysus From the

Phrygian mountains on To the streets of Greece, wide-enough for

dances. Once, his mother went Into the forced labors of birth From

Zeus’ thunder in flight She released him from her womb Too early, and

lost her life At the lightning’s strike. But Zeus, Kronos’ son

Immediately welcomed him Into his hands And hid him in his thigh— He

sewed him up with golden pins To keep him a secret from Hera. When the

Fates made him grow, He gave birth To a bull-horned god And crowned

him with wreaths of snakes. This is why the Maenads weave Beast-eating

serpents in their hair. Thebes, the nurse of Semele, Crown yourselves

with ivy! Flourish, Grow with the green Leaves flush with fruit. Make

yourselves Bacchae too With branches of oak or pine. Adorn your

clothes of stitched fawn With strands of white wool. Make sacred the

arrogant wands. Right now the whole earth will dance As Bromios leads

out his bands To the mountain, to the mountain where the woman-born

mob stands driven mad from their shuttles and looms by Dionysus.”

-Bacchae

Zeus

“Amidst libations to Zeus, what subject could be finer to sing

Than the god himself, forever great, forever the lord,

The one who drove away the Giants born of Earth, the one

Who serves as judge for all the children of Uranus?

But how ought I to sing of him? As Dictaean

Or perhaps as Lycaean? My heart is caught in the grip of doubt,

For on the subject of his origin there is much dispute.

O Zeus, some say that you were born among the Idaean mountains,

While others claim, o Zeus, that Arcadia was your birthplace.

Which of the two sides, o Father, is speaking lies?

“Cretans are always liars.” And indeed, o Lord, the Cretans

Fashioned a tomb that they claim belongs to you. But in fact

You never died at all, for you exist forever!

So, then, it was in Parrhasia Rhea bore you,

Where a mountain stood thick-covered all around

With foliage. And because of this the site is holy:

Neither any creeping creature who has need of Eileithyia

Nor any pregnant woman ever draws near to that place,

But the Apidanes call it Rhea’s primordial child-bed.”

-Callimachus

To the Stars

“O universal lights

Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year

Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,

If by your bounty holpen earth once changed

Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,

And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,

The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns

To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns

And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.

And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first

Sprang from earth’s womb at thy great trident’s stroke,

Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom

Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,

The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,

Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,

Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love

Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear

And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,

Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;

And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;

And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,

Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,

Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse

The tender unsown increase, and from heaven

Shed on man’s sowing the riches of your rain:

And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet

What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,

Whether to watch o’er cities be thy will,

Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,

That so the mighty world may welcome thee

Lord of her increase, master of her times,

Binding thy mother’s myrtle round thy brow,

Or as the boundless ocean’s God thou come,

Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow

Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son

With all her waves for dower; or as a star

Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,

Where ‘twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws

A space is opening; see! red Scorpio’s self

His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more

Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-

For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,

Nor may so dire a lust of sovereignty

E’er light upon thee, howso Greece admire

Elysium’s fields, and Proserpine not heed

Her mother’s voice entreating to return-

Vouchsafe a prosperous voyage, and smile on this

My bold endeavour, and pitying, even as I,

These poor way-wildered swains, at once begin,

Grow timely used unto the voice of prayer.

In early spring-tide, when the icy drip

Melts from the mountains hoar, and Zephyr’s breath

Unbinds the crumbling clod, even then ’tis time;

Press deep your plough behind the groaning ox,

And teach the furrow-burnished share to shine.

That land the craving farmer’s prayer fulfils,

Which twice the sunshine, twice the frost has felt;

Ay, that’s the land whose boundless harvest-crops

Burst, see! the barns.

-virgil georgics

To multiple gods

“High guardian of the gods,

Zeus the great chieftain,

I invite first to my dance;

and the hugely strong Keeper of the Trident,

wild upheaver

of land and salty sea;48

and our own father of glorious name,

most august Empyrean,49 nourisher of all life;

and the Charioteer, who

covers the plain of earth

with dazzling rays, a mighty deity

among gods and mortals.

Join me as well, Phoebus, Lord

of Delos, who dwell on Cynthus’

sheer escarpment of rock;53

and you, blest Maiden, who dwell at Ephesus

in the golden house, where Lydian maidens

greatly revere you;54

and our own native goddess,

wielder of the aegis, guardian of the city;

and he who haunts Parnassus’ rock

and glows in the light of pine torches,

eminent among Delphic bacchants,

the reveller Dionysus.”

-Aristophanes

Selene

“The moon glory of the world, the largest part of the air;

The moon was bright iugus Sunday, your fire and moisture,

Parent months of issue that the moon rises;

You stellante speed when the poles of the sun of the universe,

We returned to the brothers who collects hours; 5

The father remouato regards to the ocean, river,

We breathe the earth, you are the chains of hell cingere;

You cymbal renewing the winter, the cymbals are crumbling;

ISIS, Moon Corn-esque art, Ceres, Juno, Cybele!

Alternately do you call 10 days of the month

And again, renewing lights alternate month.

Then I threaten you are, because you have full veins; then the full company,

When a minor art: waxing was always accented when you fail both in the

world beside.

Be present and the goddess, more fond than by our prayers,

Luciferisque ranges possible that steers 15

In order to hide his fortune, the wheel, by which is well run.”

-Anthologia Latina