| Sing, Muse, to Artemis, sister of the Far-shooter, | |
| virgin who rains arrows, raised with Apollo. | |
| After watering her horses along the rushes of Meles, | |
| she swiftly drives her golden chariot through Smyrna | |
| to vine-laden Klaros where Silverbow Apollo, | |
| who strikes from afar, awaits the one who rains arrows. | |
| You and all the goddesses, rejoice in my song: | |
| I began first to sing about you and yours— | |
| having begun with you, I will turn to the rest of the hymn. |