Hail, holy Priapus, father of all things, hail! Give me a flourishing youth so that, be it boys be it girls, I can please them with my horny phallus, and with frequent games and jokes, I may dissipate the worries that vex the mind and not fear heavy old age too much, that I not be vexed with terror of miserable death, which will drag me to the jealous mansions of Avernus where their king holds sway over the fabled Manes and the fates deny anyone a return. Hail, holy father Priapus, hail! Come gather at once, however many you all are, you girls who tend the sacred grove, you girls who tend the sacred waters, come gather, however many you are, and with a pleasing voice, speak to beautiful Priapus: Hail, holy Priapus, father of all things! Next, place a thousand kisses on his crotch, gird his phallus well with fragrant wreaths, and once more all say to him: Hail, holy Priapus, father of all things! For warding off evil, blood-stained people, he grants you to go through the woods and through the unbloodied shady silences. He also wards off wrongdoers from the springs, who with illicit foot would walk across the sacred waters and disturb them, who wash their hands and do not first with many a prayer invoke you, you girlish goddesses. All say: O Priapus, be favorable, father, hail, holy father Priapus, hail! O Priapus, potent friend, hail, whether you wish to be called the father and creator of this sphere, or Nature herself and the Universe, hail! For it is by your vigor that everything is conceived which fills the earth, aether and sea. So hail, Priapus, hail, holy one! Jupiter himself, when you wish it, puts down his thunderbolts at once and in his lust leaves his bright dwellings behind. Good Venus, glowing Cupid, the Grace and her twin sisters worship you, as does Lyaeus, the giver of joy. For without you Venus is little regarded, and the Grace, Cupid and Bacchus are without charm. O Priapus, potent friend, hail! Chaste virgins call on you in prayer that you may open their long fastened girdle, and the bride calls you, so that her husband may often have a hard and always a potent member. Hail, holy father Priapus, hail!
Commentarius · Commentary
A long liturgical hymn cut in stone at Tibur by Julius Agathemerus, a freedman of Augustus — by his own account in fulfilment of an instruction received in a dream.
What makes it remarkable is that it is not one man's prayer but a scripted rite. The dedicant assigns the parts: "Come together, as many of you as there are, maidens who tend the sacred grove … and say to fair Priapus in a coaxing voice: hail." A private individual commissions a ceremony and writes its liturgy himself.
And Priapus here is no garden scarecrow out of the epigrams but "holy father of all things", identified with Nature and with Pan: "by your vigour is conceived everything that fills the soil, the aether and the sea". The same god who elsewhere serves for obscene jokes turns out to be a cosmic principle.
The request for flourishing youth is motivated without ornament — by fear of Avernus, from which "the fates deny anyone return".
Fons · Source
AuthorJulius Agathemerus (dedicator)
WorkHymn to Priapus, CIL XIV 3565
Periodearly 1st c. AD (ca. 1-50 AD)
Occasionlong liturgical hymn inscribed at Tivoli by Julius Agathemerus, freedman of Augustus, dedicated to the genius of Priapus after being instructed in a dream — sung by maidens of groves and waters
