I sing of Artemis of the Golden Distaff, Goddess of the loud chase, a
maiden revered, the slayer of stags, the archer, very sister of Apollo of
the golden blade. She through the shadowy hills and the windy headlands
rejoicing in the chase draws her golden bow, sending forth shafts of
sorrow. Then tremble the crests of the lofty mountains, and terribly the
dark woodland rings with din of beasts, and the earth shudders, and the
teeming sea. Meanwhile she of the stout heart turns about on every side
slaying the race of wild beasts. Anon when the Archer Huntress hath
taken her delight, and hath gladdened her heart, she slackens her bended
bow, and goes to the great hall of her dear Phoebus Apollo, to the rich
Delphian land; and arrays the lovely dance of Muses and Graces. There
hangs she up her bended bow and her arrows, and all graciously clad about
she leads the dances, first in place, while the others utter their
immortal voice in hymns to fair-ankled Leto, how she bore such children
pre-eminent among the Immortals in counsel and in deed. Hail, ye
children of Zeus and fair-tressed Leto, anon will I be mindful of you and
of another hymn.
[Apollo, Artemis and Leto in procession. Marble relief in the Louvre:
lang241.jpg]