Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood,
Before his eyes his goddess mother stood:
A huntress in her habit and her mien.
Her dress a maid, her air confessed a queen.
Bare were her knees, and knots her garments bind.
Loose was her hair and wantoned in the wind.
Her hand sustained a bow; her quiver hung behind.
She seemed a virgin of the Spartan blood:
With such array Harpalyke bestrode
Her Thracian courser and outstripped the rapid flood.
"Ho, strangers! have you lately seen," she said,
"One of my sisters, like me arrayed,
Who crossed the lawn, or in the forest strayed?
A painted quiver at her back she bore.
Varied with spots, a lynx's hide she wore.
And at full cry pursued the tusked boar." - artwork in the style of Ruth Thompson
Lo! in the deep recesses of the wood,
Before his eyes his goddess mother stood:
A huntress in her... [more]