Tag Archive | Pan


To great-hearted Pan, master of the woodland,
I offer my praise. Wise and knowing god,
older than old, holder of the earth’s secrets,
teacher of prophecy to shining Apollo,
generous one who gifted fair Artemis
with the swiftest of coursers, joyous son of Hermes
who plays upon the pipes, who leads the dances
of the nymphs, who joins with the maenads and satyrs
in Bacchus’ wild band, I call to you with my thanks.
Great Pan who is as simple and as enigmatic
as nature itself, whose voice we hear in the wind
behind our backs, to you I give all honor.


Pan of the mountain peaks, Pan of the wilderness,
Pan who plays upon the pipes so sweetly, who dances
with the merry-hearted nymphs. Goat-footed god,
companion of the satyrs who take such joy in wine
and earthly pleasures, father of the wise Silenus
who took such care of deep-hearted Dionysos,
son of clever Hermes who took such pride in you,
his laughing, joyful child. In all the far-flung lands
there is none such as you, O Pan; stalker of beasts,
watcher of flocks, friend of the shepherd, friend
of the hunter, friend of those who find insight
and meaning in field and wood, who find beauty
and comfort in the rustic and the wild. Pan,
granter of instinct, I praise and honor you.

Prayer to Pan for Relief from Panic and Anxiety

I call to great Pan, lord of the wilderness,
friend of the nymphs and the free-hearted beasts, master
of the winding paths, the tangled trees, the dark
of the deep woods. Pan, whose presence strikes fear into
those who wander, whose might brings mindless terror
at your will, you hold as well the power to grant
a tranquil mind, a spirit at rest, freedom from
a turbulent heart. Pan, take from me the baseless
fright, the pulse-pounding dread that closes the mind
to reason, the circling doubts and worries that freeze
us in place despite all we know to be true. Pan,
grant me strength to fight these unfounded fears, grant me
clarity to see what is false, grant me the peace
of the long view, the comfort of certainty.


Arcadian Pan, mountain-roaming god, playmate
of the lovely nymphs, the sweet sound of the pipes
precedes you, the dancing feet of pretty maids
follow in your wake. God of shepherds and their flocks,
god of all that grows, all that is green, of woodland
and riversong, of beasts fierce and timid,
goat-footed god, with horns among your tousled hair,
fair of face and swift of stride, you roam the wild world
with a free spirit. Friend of Dionysos,
rustic one, all life’s simple pleasures are yours
to enjoy–the merry song, the outdoor feast,
the sprightly dance of country folk, all are yours,
O Pan. God of the highlands, the stony peaks
and the gentle, grassy hills, I praise and honor you.

To Pan

I call to Pan, son of fleet-footed Hermes,
ever in the company of vine-crowned Dionysos,
cherished companion of full-hearted Rhea,
playmate of the mischievous nymphs. In Arcadia
were you well loved, O Pan; in sylvan groves
and deep-hewn grottos did shepherds and their sweethearts
speak your name, joyously, prayerfully, lovingly;
in cities and in villages your altars stood,
in woodlands and in flowered fields your shrines were raised.
Sweet is the sound of your pipes, O Pan, nimble the feet
of the pretty maids who follow in your dance.
Yours are all the country pleasures, the rustic song,
the simple revel; yours too the soul-seizing
dread called panic, that causeless fear that grasps and clings;
yours the open heart of passion. Pan, I call to you.