Eileithuia, I sing, gracious midwife for Gods and men,
do not remain on high Olympos, but come rushing down
to aid the woman in distress, as she lies in trevail with child.
Wipe her brow, and speak soothing words in her ear,
and give her strong herbs to fight the pain.
And when she collapses and says she can't go on,
lend her your strength, so that she can grit her teeth,
and bring her screaming baby into the world.
For it is through you that we have our strong sons
and our lovely daughters, you Goddess,
who are a boon to woman-kind.