Artemis! thou fairest br Of the maids that be br In divine Olympus, br Hail! Hail to thee! br To thee I bring this woven weed br Culled for thee from a virgin mead, br Where neither shepherd claims his flocks to feed br Nor ever yet the mower's scythe hath come. br There in the Spring the wild bee hath his home, br Lightly passing to and fro br Where the virgin flowers grow; br And there the watchful Purity doth go br Moistening with dew-drops all the ground below, br Drawn from a river untaintedly flowing, br They who have gained by a kind fate's bestowing br Pure hearts, untaught by philosophy's care, br May gather the flowers in the mead that are blowing, br But the tainted in spirit may never be there. br br Now, O Divinest, eternally fair, br Take thou this garland to gather thy hair, br Brought by a hand that is pure as the air. br For I alone of all the sons of men br Hear thy pure accents, answering thee again.