O Pan of the evergreen forest,
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Protector of herds in the meadows,
Helper of men at their toiling,—
Tillage and harvest and herding,—
How many times to frail mortals
Now even I come before thee
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With oil and honey and wheat bread,
Praying for strength and fulfilment
Of human longing, with purpose
Ever to keep thy great worship
O Hermes, master of knowledge,
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Measure and number and rhythm,
Worker of wonders in metal,
Moulder of malleable music,
So often the giver of secret
Now even I, a fond woman,
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Frail and of small understanding,—
Yet with unslakable yearning
Come to the threshold of reason
And thou, sea-born Aphrodite,
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In whose beneficent keeping
Earth with her infinite beauty,
Colour and fashion and fragrance,
Glows like a flower with fervour
Touch with thy lips and enkindle
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This moon-white delicate body,
Drench with dew of enchantment
This mortal one, that I also
Grow to the measure of beauty