I begin my song of Pallas Athena, illustrious goddess with sharp grey eyes.
Crafty one, She, with a heart relentless,
modest Virgin, Protectress of the city!
The valiant Tritogeneia was roused by Zeus the wise
from his own awesome brow, the tools of battle on her arm,
glittering and gold: All the immortals were stunned.
Without delay she leapt from the ever-living skull
to come before Zeus, master of the aegis,
and the sharp javelin rattled in her hand.
Mighty Olympos was sent madly spinning
by the potency of her, of the Grey-eyed one.
From every direction the earth let loose a chilling scream.
Waves, deep and dark, stirred up in the seething ocean,
and all at once spray jetted from the sea.
The shining son of Hyperion brought his swift steeds to rest, waiting long,
until the Maiden divested her incorruptible shoulders of the godlike armor…
She, Pallas Athena! Wise Zeus laughed!
That is why I say it too: Hail to you, Daughter of aegis-wielding Zeus!
While now I sing a different song, I always remember you!
(Homeric Hymn to Athena)
To Athena, with an incense of aromatic herbs.
Pallas, you only-begotten One, born of mighty Zeus, awesome you are, and divine:
Goddess so blessed, lifting high the turmoil of the fray,
Mighty One unspeakable yet so well spoken of!
Great-named One at home in a vault of stone,
Caught up in haughty hills and wandering the shaded mountain’s ridge,
You who put a dance in the heart and glory in embattlements,
You can put the sting of mania into a mortal soul!
Athletic Maiden with a heart sublime,
Slayer of the Gorgon, fugitive of the bridal bed,
Mother of Art in all your abundance, catalyst of progress!
You bring folly to the corrupt and a sense of purpose to the pure!
Indeed, you are male and female in one,
Patron of war and wisdom,
You are fluid of form, a dragon,
Infused with inspiration of the Gods!
Rightly-honored One, who brought Phlegran giants down to defeat,
You driver of steeds, Tritogeneia, save us from evil, bearing Victory in your arms!
Day and night, eternally, in even the loneliest hours,
Hear my prayer, and grant us an abundant peace, fulfillment, good health.
Make prosperous the hour, gray-eyed One, inventor of Art,
The object of the people’s ceaseless prayers–
(Orphic Hymn to Athena)