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   I sing of Artemis, whose shafts are of gold, who cheers on the hounds,
   the pure maiden, shooter of stags, who delights in archery, own sister
   to Apollo with 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: earthquakes
   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, this huntress who delights in
   arrows slackens her supple bow and goes to the great house of her dear
   brother Phoebus Apollo, to the rich land of Delphi, there to order the
   lovely dance of the Muses and 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 in deed. Hail to you, children of Zeus and rich-haired
   Leto! And now I will remember you and another song also.\\[2ex]
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   Homeric Hymns XXVII\\
   Translated by H.\ G.\ Evelyn-White
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