Prayer to Bacchus

O Bacchus, humbly now I approach Your altar. Grant tranquil seas for me, Father, and a fair wind in my sails. You are able to tame even the rages of Venus; Your wine a cure for our sorrows. By You are lovers bound to one another; by You are their bonds dissolved. O Bacchus, cleanse my soul of fault. Truly also You cannot attest to be ignorant of my sorrow when it was your lynxes that carried Ariadne off to the stars, like You there is an old flame still burning in my bones. Only wine or death may rid us of our ills. But if, Bacchus, Your gift could soothe my fevered mind and bring sleep to my wearied bones, then I'll plant vines and fasten them in orderly rows upon my hills. When my vats fill foaming purple with must, and new wine presses have stained my feet with grapes, then it will be enough for me to live with Your vines and in Your horned presence, O Bacchus, I, Your poet, shall sing.