Hymn XXXVIII: To the Curetes

Brass-beating Salians, ministers of Mars,
Who wear his arms the instruments of wars ;
Whose blessed frames, heav'n, earth, and sea compose,
And from whose breath all animals arose :
Who dwell in Samothracia's sacred ground,
Defending mortals through the sea profound.
Deathless Curetes, by your pow'r alone,
The greatest mystic rites to men at first were shown.
Who shake old Ocean thund'ring to the sky,
And stubborn oaks with branches waving high.
'Tis yours in glittering arms the earth to beat,
With lightly leaping, rapid, sounding feet ;
Then ev'ry beast the noise terrific flies,
And the loud tumult wanders thro' the skies.
The dust your feet excites, with matchless force
Flies to the clouds amidst their whirling course ;
And ev'ry flower of variegated hue
Grows in the dancing motion form'd by you ;
Immortal demons, to your pow'rs consign'd,
The task to nourish and destroy mankind,
When rushing furious with loud tumult dire,
O'erwhelm'd, they perish in your dreadful ire ;
And live replenish'd with the balmy air,
The food of life, committed to your care.
When shook by you, the seas with wild uproar,
Wide-spreading, and profoundly whirling, roar.
The concave heav'ns with echo's voice resound,
When leaves with rustling noise bestrew the ground.
Curetes, Corybantes, ruling kings,
Whose praise the land of Samothracia sings ;
Great Jove's assessors ; whose immortal breath
Sustains the soul, and wafts her back from death;
Aerial-form'd, who in Olympus shine
The heavenly Twins all-lucid and divine :
Blowing, serene, from whom abundance springs,
Nurses of seasons, fruit-producing kings.