Hymn To Artemis the Protectress of Youth

Composed by Robin Artisson
In fulfillment of a solemn vow

Copyright © 2008



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I AM CARRIED to verdant thoughts in an age arid of truth and piety,
A blessing that only a Muse may bestow, in a world of Muses scorned,
When directed by the gesture of the still-benevolent Godly friends of man:
So words arise in me in praise of the awe-inspiring Godhead of the Huntress,
The leader of every chase, dreadful and beautiful Cydonian Artemis.

KELADEINE, you are the swift-runner unmatched in deadly accuracy of bowshot,
And still the kindly deliveress from the the pains and trials of birth;
Savage lioness, destroyer of cities and tireless subduer of men,
Far-shining Goddess I call you, along with whatever other names please you.
Arktos, darting through starry heaven and along the deer-paths of forests,
For all your sylvan sport, You are no stranger to sand and foam-girt shores;
Virginal and wide-wandering, untamed and surrounded by wolves and hounds.

DAUGHTER OF LETO who brightens her mother's face, midwife to your twin brother,
Immortal mistress of the rude beasts of field and gloomy wood,
Your wrath against those who harm the newly born and the young
Is more fierce than the storm at sea or the ruinous thunder-stroke.
You rise against those who work wickedness or harm against all feminine-born;
In every season you stalk and slay the defilers of mothers and daughters
With your unfaltering arrow-barbs or the sharp teeth of devouring Fate.
Without you, womankind has no champion of sufficient strength for our dark times.

SO, DEATHLESS QUEEN, protectress and nourisher of youth,
You are praised for your uncompromising and noble aim of preservation and freedom
For the spirit of girls and women- and through them, many countless generations to come;
You are praised, though virginal, for your light and endless bounty;
For the blessings of wisdom won from spaces of darkness in your wild land,
That world lit by the luminous moon at night, the light you prefer.

ARTEMIS, rainer of arrows from Godly heights, daughter of Mighty Zeus,
Look kindly on this song in your honor and be favorably disposed to me and mine.




* * *

With this hymn of praise joyfully rendered from a heart of true devotion,
Robin, called Son of Art, and called "Owl" in the tongue of his Hyperborean forebears
And called by many other names in the world of men, hereby dutifully and rightly fulfills his vow.









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