I sing of Artemis Khryselakatos (with shafts are of gold), Keladeine (strong-voiced), Parthenon Aidoine (the revered virgin), Elaphebolos (dear-shooting), Iokheaira (delighter in arrows), own sister to Apollon Khrysaor (of the golden sword). Over the shadowy hills and windy peaks she draws her golden bow, rejoicing in the chase, and sends out grievous shafts. The tops of the high mountains tremble and the tangled wood echoes awesomely with the outcry of beasts: earth quakes and the sea also where fishes shoal. But the goddess with a bold heart turns every way destroying the race of wild beasts: and when she is satisfied and has cheered her heart, then Theroskopos Iokheaira (the huntress who delights in arrows) slackens her supple bow and goes to the great house of her dear brother Phoibos Apollon, to the rich land of Delphoi, there to order the lovely dance of the Mousai (Muses) and Kharites (Graces). There she hangs up her curved bow and her arrows, and heads and leads the dances, gracefully arrayed, while all they utter their heavenly voice, singing how neat-ankled Leto bare children supreme among the immortals both in thought and deed. Hail to you, children of Zeus and rich-haired Leto! And now I will remember you and another song also.