Oh! son of Leto, I invoke you, who send forth your holy voice from your golden seat,
[910]
your central throne, I shall announce it in your ear: O wicked lover, you received no favor from my husband,
[915]
but you settle a child in the house for him; while my son and yours, unknown, is gone, plundered by birds, and has given up the baby-clothes from his mother. Delos hates you, and so do the laurel shoots
[920]
beside the palm with delicate leaves, where Leto gave birth to you, a holy birth, in the plants of Zeus.