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Rh Grant me that end to see!

Grant that henceforth unstained as heretofore

I may escape the forced embrace

Of those proud children of the race

That sacred Io bore.

And thou, O maiden-goddess chaste and pure—

Queen of the inner fane,—

Look of thy grace on me, O Artemis,

Thy willing suppliant—thine, thine it is,

Who from the lustful onslaught fled secure,

To grant that I too without stain

The shelter of thy purity may gain!

Grant that henceforth unstained as heretofore

I may escape the forced embrace

Of those proud children of the race

That sacred Io bore!

Yet if this may not be,

We, the dark race sun-smitten, we

Will speed with suppliant wands

To Zeus who rules below, with hospitable hands

Who welcomes all the dead from all the lands:

Yea, by our own hands strangled, we will go,

Spurned by Olympian gods, unto the gods below!

Zeus, hear and save!

The searching, poisonous hate, that Io vexed and drave,