locks unshorn, Phoebus the Far-darter. Thereon all the Goddesses were in
amaze, and all Delos blossomed with gold, as when a hilltop is heavy with
woodland flowers, beholding the child of Zeus and Leto, and glad because
the God had chosen her wherein to set his home, beyond mainland and
isles, and loved her most at heart.

But thyself, O Prince of the Silver Bow, far-darting Apollo, didst now
pass over rocky Cynthus, now wander among temples and men. Many are thy
fanes and groves, and dear are all the headlands, and high peaks of lofty
hills, and rivers flowing onward to the sea; but with Delos, Phoebus, art
thou most delighted at heart, where the long-robed Ionians gather in
thine honour, with children and shame-fast wives. Mindful of thee they
delight thee with boxing, and dances, and minstrelsy in their games. Who
so then encountered them at the gathering of the Ionians, would say that
they are exempt from eld and death, beholding them so gracious, and would
be glad at heart, looking on the men and fair-girdled women, and their
much wealth, and their swift galleys. Moreover, there is this great
marvel of renown imperishable, the Delian damsels, hand-maidens of the
Far-darter. They, when first they have hymned Apollo, and next Leto and
Artemis the Archer, then sing in memory of the men and women of old time,
enchanting the tribes of mortals. And they are skilled to mimic the
notes and dance music of all men, so that each would say himself were
singing, so well woven is their fair chant.

But now come, be gracious, Apollo, be gracious, Artemis; and ye maidens
all, farewell, but remember me even in time to come, when any of earthly
men, yea, any stranger that much hath seen and much endured, comes hither
and asks:

"Maidens, who is the sweetest to you of singers here conversant, and in