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.