The Calling of Iakkhos

Sacrifice the aroma of styrax and recite, 

O IAKKHOS, whom the light amidst the darkness adorns, hear my ritual cry. IAKKHOS, O IAKKHOS! O IAKKHOS, much-loved resident of these quarters, IAKKHOS, O IAKKHOS, come to this field for the dance with your holy followers, setting in motion the crown which sits on your head, thick with myrtle-berries, boldly stamping the beat with your foot in the unrestrained fun-loving celebration, the dance overflowing with grace, dance sacred to the holy initiates! O IAKKHOS, wake the fiery torches which you brandish in your hands, IAKKHOS, O IAKKHOS, brilliant star of the all-night celebration! The meadow is aflame with light; old men's knees cavort! They shake off the pain of long years in old age in their holy excitement. Hold your light aloft and lead the youthful chorus, Lord, to the lush flowers of the sacred ground! O IAKKHOS, whom the light amidst the darkness adorns, hear my ritual cry!  IAKKHOS, O IAKKHOS!