(ll. 1-9) I begin to sing of ivy-crowned Dionysus, the loud-crying god,
splendid son of Zeus and glorious Semele. The rich-haired Nymphs
received him in their bosoms from the lord his father and fostered and
nurtured him carefully in the dells of Nysa, where by the will of his
father he grew up in a sweet-smelling cave, being reckoned among the
immortals. But when the goddesses had brought him up, a god oft hymned,
then began he to wander continually through the woody coombes, thickly
wreathed with ivy and laurel. And the Nymphs followed in his train with
him for their leader; and the boundless forest was filled with their
outcry.
(ll. 10-13) And so hail to you, Dionysus, god of abundant clusters!
Grant that we may come again rejoicing to this season, and from that
season onwards for many a year.