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Girls who are brides to be, come, sing in triumph
with shouts, wild shouts of joy for our hearth and home;
and let the voices of men be one
with ours in prayer to the archer-god
Apollo, our defender! Then,
210maidens, raise the paean aloft
and cry to his sister
Ortygian Artemis, wielder of torches, slayer of deer,
and the nymphs of the neighboring hills.
I am raised on high, I will not reject
the cry of the flute: thou tyrant of mind and soul!
Behold me: the ivy -
220goads me to frenzy and whirls me
round in the strife of Bacchus!
Io io Paean!
My lady, behold,
behold, you may clearly see these things
are taking place before you.