Day VI. To Dionysos Morychos

O grandson of Kronos, darksome Dionysos
who rules below, somber Prince surrounded
by masked revelers and gay feasting
in a grove of white cypress and ivy
nourished by the cool streams of Mnemosyne.
To this fair isle the blessed come
after successfully completing
a cycle of tests and toil
in the lands of death and dreaming,
thereby earning their place in the barony
of peace, plenty, and pleasure.
You permit your faithful subjects to indulge
every fantasy and desire a heart could hunger after,
and over all you watch, Dionysos,
O you who sit upon the ivory peacock throne.
Once you sat upon another throne,
clutching thunder in your little palm
until the creatures with cracked clay faces
and beguiling toys crept up on you.
Later you made war upon the Titans
and after utterly conquering them
you did not enact your righteous vengeance
but instead freed them with a libation,
giving them back their lives
so they might fight with you
as your loyal War-band when the day comes
that brings the world-ending conflagration.
But until that day let us rejoice, relax and rejuvenate
in the presence of our sweet Lord,
and always try to bring a laughing smile
to his saturnine face.