Prayer to Priapus

Companion of Bacchus and the Nymphs, to whom lovely Dione gave power over the woodland, whom famed Lesbos and green Thasos obey, whom gold-bearing Lydia worships, whose temple you sited in your very own city of Hypaepa: be with me, O protector of Bacchus, delight of the Dryads, and hear my humble prayer. I do not come to you stained with dark blood, I've not laid hands like some vile enemy on your shrine, but when I was poor, oppressed with want, I committed sin, yet not with my whole body: less guilty he who commits a sin when he's poor. Here's my prayer: unburden my spirit, and forgive the lightest of offences and, whenever some hour of good fortune smiles on me, I'll not suffer your glory to go unhonoured. Sacred one, a horned goat, shall see your altars, the sire of the herd, and a sow's suckling brood of squealers too, in sacrifice. You'll know this year's vintage, and all the young men, tipsy, will tread thrice round your sanctuary, joyously.