Sunday, March 4, 2012


ἑστίη, ἣ πάντων ἐν δώμασιν ὑψηλοῖσιν
ἀθανάτων τε θεῶν χαμαὶ ἐρχομένων τ᾽ ἀνθρώπων
ἕδρην ἀίδιον ἔλαχες, πρεσβηίδα τιμήν,
καλὸν ἔχουσα γέρας καὶ τίμιον: οὐ γὰρ ἄτερ σοῦ
εἰλαπίναι θνητοῖσιν, ἵν᾽ οὐ πρώτῃ πυμάτῃ τε
Ἑστίῃ ἀρχόμενος σπένδει μελιηδέα οἶνον:

καὶ σύ μοι, Ἀργειφόντα, Διὸς καὶ Μαιάδος υἱέ,
ἄγγελε τῶν μακάρων, χρυσόρραπι, δῶτορ ἐάων,
ἵλαος ὢν ἐπάρηγε σὺν αἰδοίῃ τε φίλῃ τε.
ναίετε δώματα καλά, φίλα φρεσὶν ἀλλήλοισιν
εἰδότες: ἀμφότεροι γὰρ ἐπιχθονίων ἀνθρώπων
εἰδότες ἔργματα καλὰ νόῳ θ᾽ ἕσπεσθε καὶ ἥβῃ.

χαῖρε, Κρόνου θύγατερ, σύ τε καὶ χρυσόρραπις Ἑρμῆς:
αὐτὰρ ἐγὼν ὑμέων τε καὶ ἄλλης μνήσομ᾽ ἀοιδῆς.

 Hestia, in the high dwellings of all, both deathless gods and men who walk on earth, you have gained an everlasting abode and highest honour: glorious is your portion and your right. For without you mortals hold no banquet, -- where one does not duly pour sweet wine in offering to Hestia both first and last.

And you, slayer of Argus, Son of Zeus and Maia, messenger of the blessed gods, bearer of the golden rod, giver of good, be favourable and help us, you and Hestia, the worshipful and dear. Come and dwell in this glorious house in friendship together; for you two, well knowing the noble actions of men, aid on their wisdom and their strength.

Hail, Daughter of Cronos, and you also, Hermes, bearer of the golden rod! Now I will remember you and another song also.
--Second Homeric Hymn to Hestia, translation by Evelyn-White

Hail Ἑστια, οὐσία, ἐσσία. She that Is. Chief of the goddesses. Yet, humble and modest, you yielded your seat in the Pantheon to your nephew, Dionysus. Still, because you Are, you remain, if but filtered through οἶνος. Distill it, and we find you.

Hail Ἑρμῆς Διακτορος, Ἑρμῆς Κυλλενιος. God of Words, the Internet is yours. May my words be worthy of your domain and grant me blessings so related. Your favor gives all men's work what grace it has and what praise it wins. ´Ιμβραμος, bring your φιάλη and enjoy my recipes!

Because the initiation of any new blog requires a proper invocation - a great big bottle of Dom smashed across the bow.

Please, mind the chintz decor. It'll be antique soon enough. But for now it's down-home and warm, just the way I like it. And pull up a nice overstuffed armchair to the fire (the doily it came with, you can fling any which way, preferably out of sight). I may be ancient -30!- but let's not get ridiculous with the macramé.

I haven't yet gotten highly technical with this blog. If you run into any issues, please shoot me a line and I'll try to make improvements.

But, now. Comfy? Can I make you a drink?