Of the far-shooting huntress I shall sing; my song now tells again of the virgin maiden; twin sister to Apollon of the golden sword; I sing this new song unto the far-shooting goddess of the golden shaft; of she; Artimis, goddess of the hunt, daughter of thunder-loving Zeus.
It is from her; from the golden bow of the huntress; that each shaft does find it’s mark; Artimis, who lusts deeply for the hunt, as Cythereia lusts for love; once loosed from her bow, nothing escapes the shafts of the huntress, her perfect aim; no animal that is unto the huntress game escapes the goddess of the golden shaft.
It was from the pure nymphs; from the fairy-folk did she learn the hunt; it was indeed the nymphs of the wood who did show unto Artimis not only the hunt but the joy of the dance; she who will love no man or god; she who will never rest so long as there is game for sport.
From the hunt the far-shooting goddess does take leave; her heart longs to lead the dance again; it is Artimis who returns to her brother’s city; it is here in the temple of Apollon that she does indeed unstring her golden bow; here the huntress removes her quiver of golden shafts; here Artimis does lead the dance that is her second love.
It is only her brother; the son of thunder-loving Zeus himself; Apollon is the only one with whom the huntress will dance, save for the other maidens, the virgins who as Artimis are also pure; in her dance, the grace of the nymphs does show; Artimis leads the dance, unequaled in her grace as her beauty does flow freely in tune with music.
When the music does end; it is only after her dance that the huntress enjoys the softness of a feather bed; on these nights she enjoys the finery offered by her brother; with the sun’s rise; when Apollon does awaken; the huntress re-strings her golden bow; the quiver of golden shafts again slung over her shoulder; now no silken veils adorn the goddess of the hunt; again she is the huntress; the far-shooting goddess; Artimis, goddess of the hunt.
No fowl, no deer, no animal can escape from a shaft loosed from her golden bow; no game escapes the huntress; she who lusts for the hunt as men lust the beauty of women pure; it is the hunt, chasing the game, this is what makes the virgin’s heart race; it is when her golden shaft has found it’s mark that her lust is fulfilled.
To the far-shooting Artimis; unto the huntress only one other love is known; only in the hunt and her dance does this virgin goddess find her love; it is in the dance that she finds joy and passion; “Artimis, goddess of the hunt; may your game be forever abundant, may you dance forever more with the nymphs of the wood; hail the far-shooting huntress, Artimis;” and I shall remember thee in another song as well.
