Goddess Diane


Haste thee, nymph, whose well-aimed spear
Wounds the fleeting mountain-deer!
Diane, Jove's immortal child,
Huntress of the savage wild!

Goddess with the sun-bright hair!
Listen to a people's prayer.
Turn, to Lethe's river turn,
There thy vanquished people mourn!

Come to Lethe's wavy shore,
Tell them they shall mourn no more.
Thine their hearts, their altars thine;
Must they, Diane -- must they pine?

Odes of Anacreon - Ode LXIV
Translated from the Greek by Thomas Moore.

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