Mother of loud-roaring, many-shaped Eobouleus, radiant and luminous playmate of the Seasons, revered and almighty, maiden rich in fruits, brilliant and horned, only-beloved of mortals, in spring you take your joy in the meadow of breezes, you show your holy figure in branches teeming with grass-green fruits, in autumn you were made a kidnapper's bride. You alone are life and death to toiling mortals, O Persephone, you nourish all, always, and kill them, too.
Hearken, O blessed Goddess, send forth the fruits of the earth as you blossom in peace, and in gentle-handed health bring a blessed life and a splendid old age to him who is sailing to your realm, O queen, and to mighty Plouton’s kingdom.
Orphic Hymn 29