Mad god, drunken lord, raving god, roaring lord,
I write for your honour, Dionysus, and your amusement:
Of how you came to the title of twice-born,
Of deliverer unto madness and saviour from it,
Of good spirited one, and of man-slayer,
Of the mad, the drunken, and the wild god.
Born first of Dread Persephone, Zeus’ begotten son,
You were given to fell giants by Stern Hera,
For in you she saw foe of jealousy, and of sobriety,
And by those giants you were rent asunder and devoured.
But from annihilation you were saved, by Wisdom’s hand,
Your heart snatched away and safely implanted,
In fair Semele’s mortal womb, to grow anew a divine form,
Alas for her your divine birth no mortal could survive.
So it was that you were born once, of the Great Goddess,
Then torn and devoured, only to be born anew of mortal womb,
So came you to be called Dionysus the twice born,
As the seed is born of the plant, then of the earth wherein it is planted.
Now to your famous madness I shall speak, gift and curse that it is.
As you were trusted to Ancient Silenus, who taught you the making of wine,
To be fostered and raised, and sheltered from adversity,
And protected in wild freedom you were, until as an adult you said farewell.
Going forth from Nysa, you left the shelter of Wise Silenus,
To bring the world wine and the ecstasies that attend it,
And were seen once more by Hera of the long grudge,
Who struck you mad, knowing she could not slay you.
In your madness you travelled far, knowing not yourself
Nor where you were, nor whence you came,
But even so, you spread your teachings, gained followers,
And taught the making and drinking of blessed wine.
And in the rages, ecstasies, despairs, and terrors of your madness,
You led your followers in many drunken revels and riots,
Tearing asunder those who denied you as you were once torn,
And rending the night with the shrieks and howls of your celebration.
After some indeterminate time in this maddened state,
You slew a king of Phrygia, whose name is lost,
But who complained of the mad youth who ripped him apart
To Dread Persephone, who recognised her son in the tale.
So she travelled to the world under cover of Solemn Night,
Wearing the face of a young girl and a wreath of asphodel blooms,
Once there she sought you, and on finding you saw the curse upon you,
A madness married to your mind as only Jealous Hera could wed two things.
Your hallowed mother then sought her mother’s mother,
Great Rhea, of the unceasing flow, who heals all wounds,
And brought her to you, that she might heal your mind from Hera’s curse,
But try as she might, madness from your mind could not be unbound.
She instead restored you to your mind yourself,
That you could ride the madness, rather than be ridden by it,
And in so doing she gave you the knowledge of yourself back,
Of who you are, where you were, and whence you had come.
It was after you were given yourself back, mad though you remain,
That you travelled home, with all your famous exploits,
From the maenads of Thebes, to the ship of Tyrrhenian pirates,
For you are not only the drunken master of drunkenness,
But the mad master of madness, to inflict it or cure it as you wish.
And so I have written for you, mad god, drunken lord, roaring Dionysus,
May it amuse you, and show to all your glory, might, and majesty.
