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Rh Then Astyr, proud of youthful charms,

With fiery steed and glancing arms:

Three hundred men beside him fare,

Nerved by one loyal will,

Who Cære's home or Pyrgi share,

Who breathe Graviscæ's tainted air,

Or Minio's cornland till.

Nor shall Liguria's chief remain,

Brave Cinyras, here unsung,

Nor thou, despite thy scanty train,

Cupavo, fair and young:

From whose tall helm swan-plumes arise,

Memorial of thy sire's disguise.

For Cycnus, all for love, 'tis said,

Of Phaethon untimely dead,

Embowered amid the poplar wood

Of that unhappy sisterhood,

Kept plaining o'er the cruel wrong,

And solacing his grief with song,

Till o'er his limbs began to grow

A downy plumage, white as snow;

Then to the skies he passed, and sent

His voice before him as he went.

And now his son in arms appears,

Leads forth a host of equal years,

And spreads his flying sails:

High on the prow a Centaur stands,

A huge rock heaved in both his hands;

The keel behind him trails.

There too great Ocnus o'er the sea

Conducts his country's chivalry,

Child of prophetic Manto he

And Tuscan Tiber's flood;

Fair Mantua's town he built and walled

And by his mother's surname called: