Metin
Straightway, great Phoebus, the goddesses washed you purely and cleanly with sweet water, and swathed you in a white garment of fine texture, new-woven, and fastened a golden band about you. Now Leto did not give Apollo, bearer of the golden blade, her breast; but Themis duly poured nectar and ambrosia
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with her divine hands: and Leto was glad because she had borne a strong son and an archer. But as soon as you had tasted that divine heavenly food, O Phoebus, you could no longer then be held by golden cords nor confined with bands, but all their ends were undone.
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Forth-with Phoebus Apollo spoke out among the deathless goddesses:“The lyre and the curved bow shall ever be dear to me, and I will declare to men the unfailing will of Zeus.” So said Phoebus, the long-haired god who shoots afar and began to walk upon the wide-pathed earth;
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and all the goddesses were amazed at him. Then with gold all Delos [was laden, beholding the child of Zeus and Leto, for joy because the god chose her above the islands and shore to make his dwelling in her: and she loved him yet more in her heart.] blossomed as does a mountain-top with woodland flowers.
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And you, O lord Apollo, god of the silver bow, shooting afar, now walked on craggy Cynthus, and now kept wandering about the islands and the people in them. Many are your temples and wooded groves, and all peaks and towering bluffs
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of lofty mountains and rivers flowing to the sea are dear to you, Phoebus, yet in Delos do you most delight your heart; for there the long robed Ionians gather in your honor with their children and shy wives: with boxing and dancing and song,
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