The Hymns of Orpheus · 35 of 91

To the Curetes.

XXX. TO THE CURETES. A HYMN. LEAPING Curetes, who with dancing feet

And circling measures, armed footsteps beat:

Whose bosom’s mad, fanatic transports fire,

Who move in rythm to the founding lyre:

Who traces deaf when lightly leaping tread,

Arm bearers, strong defenders, rulers dread:

Propitious omens, guards of Proserpine *,

Preserving rites, mysterious and divine

Come, and benevolent my words attend,

(In herds rejoicing), and my life defend. 10

Footnotes 156:* Proclus calls the Curetes, guards of Proserpine, lib. vi. Theol. Plat. p. 383.