The earth is set free! Greece is avenged! Apollo has conquered!
After such terrors and such slaughter that have devastated and depopulated the country
the Python lies dead, put to death by my hand.
Apollo has triumphed! Apollo has conquered!

The good of the universe relies on this saving bow.
With my praises let the earth resound and sacrifices be prepared to my protecting arm.

Let Cupid in his pretty pride give way to the force of my arrows;
let him boast no more of the fatal point of his golden arrows.
One Python alone is worth more than a thousand ardent wounded lovers.

Break your bow and cast away your weapons, God of idleness and pleasure.
How can you ever hurt me, naked spirit and blind archer?

Most blest is this soul, that loves only freedom.
There is not peace, there is no calm if the heart is not unfettered.

What a voice! What a beauty!
This sound, this sight pierces my heart. Nymph!

What do I see, alas?
And who is it that surprises me?

I know no other God in these woods but only Diana;
do not come near, profane God.

I am Cynthia's brother;
If you love my sister, fair one, pity the one who adores you.

You burn, adore, and beg in vain; only to Cynthia am I faithful.
To her brother's flames of love Cynthia would have me cruel.

I fear, I suffer.
If this ardour is not checked I can never have peace.

Be calm now, my dear one.
The beauty that inflames me will not flower for ever;
the fairest that Nature creates passes, and does not last.

As the rose with its thorn quickly comes and quickly goes,
so with sudden flight, passes the flower of beauty.

Ah! A God should follow after no other love than for objects eternal;
the fleeting dust will perish, will end,
that makes me pleasing to you,
but not the virtue that protects me.

As in gentle heaven the star of Neptune calms the storm,
so in an honest and fair soul, reason holds love in check.

I will follow you, run after you, fly in your steps:
swifter that the sun you cannot be.

Run, my feet: hold tight, my arms, the ungrateful beauty.
I touch her, I hold her, I take her, I hold her tight...
But what sudden change is this?
What did I see? What behold?
Heavens! Fate! Whatever is it!

Daphne, where are you? I cannot find you.
What new miracle has taken you away, changed you and hidden you?
May the cold of winter never harm you nor the thunder of heaven touch your sacred and glorious foliage.

Dear laurel, with my tears I shall water your green leaves;
with your triumphant branches will I crown the greatest heroes.
If I cannot hold you in my bosom, Daphne, at least on my brow will I wear you.