51. For the Nymphs

Nymphs, the daughters of great-hearted Ocean,
in the damp-trailing depths of the earth, you
have your homes. With hidden courses, chthonic
and joyful nurses of Bakchos, you bear
fruit in meadows and on winding roads. Pure
ones who delight in the caves where you dwell
and in the air and well-springs, you run
dew-clad, with nimble steps. Both visible
and invisible, much-blooming glen nymphs,
you howl and dance with Pan on the mountains,
and flowing down the rocks, you hum sweetly.
Wild maidens of streams and forests, perfumed
virgins all in white, breathing sweet breezes,
you love goatherds and shepherds and bright fruit,
friends to beasts. Delighting in frost, tender,
you spur growth and nourish many. Maidens,
hamadryads, playful with wet footprints,
dwelling on Nysa, and chanting paeans
in a frenzy with Bakchos and Deo,
you bring grace to mortals. Come
with a grateful temper to this holy
sacrifice and pour down a health-giving
stream in the seasons of fecundity.