(ll. 102-114) But the goddesses sent out Iris from the well-set isle to bring Eilithyia, promising her a great necklace strung with golden threads, nine cubits long.  And they bade Iris call her aside from white-armed Hera, lest she might afterwards turn her from coming with her words.  When swift Iris, fleet of foot as the wind, had heard all this, she set to run; and quickly finishing all the distance she came to the home of the gods, sheer Olympus, and forthwith called Eilithyia out from the hall to the door and spoke winged words to her, telling her all as the goddesses who dwell on Olympus had bidden her.  So she moved the heart of Eilithyia in her dear breast; and they went their way, like shy wild-doves in their going.

(ll. 115-122) And as soon as Eilithyia the goddess of sore travail set foot on Delos, the pains of birth seized Leto, and she longed to bring forth; so she cast her arms about a palm tree and kneeled on the soft meadow while the earth laughed for joy beneath.  Then the child leaped forth to the light, and all 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.

(ll. 123-130) Now Leto did not give Apollo, bearer of the golden blade, her breast; but Themis duly poured nectar and ambrosia 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.  Forthwith Phoebus Apollo spoke out among the deathless goddesses: 

(ll. 131-132) `The lyre and the curved bow shall ever be dear to me, and I will declare to men the unfailing will of Zeus.’

(ll. 133-139) So said Phoebus, the long-haired god who shoots afar and began to walk upon the wide-pathed earth; and all 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, and blossomed as does a mountain-top with woodland flowers.

(ll. 140-164) And you, O lord Apollo, god of the silver bow, shooting afar, now walked on craggy Cynthus, and now kept wandering about the island and the people in them.  Many are your temples and wooded groves, and all peaks and towering bluffs 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 honour with their children and shy wives:  mindful, they delight you with boxing and dancing and song, so often as they hold their gathering.  A man would say that they were deathless and unageing if he should then come upon the Ionians so met together.  For he would see the graces of them all, and would be pleased