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Rh A man like me, with no experience,

No seamanship, no Salamis,—to row?

You'll row all right; as soon as you fall to,

You'll hear a first-rate tune that makes you row.

Who sings it?

Certain cycnoranidae.

That's music!

Give the word then, and we'll see.

[ ''gives the word for rowing and marks the time. A Chorus of under the water is heard. The Feast of Pots to which they refer was the third day of the Anthesteria, and included songs to at his temple in the district called Limnae ("Marshes''").

O brood of the mere and the spring,

Gather together and sing

From the depths of your throat

By the side of the boat,

Co-äx, as we move in a ring;

As in Limnae we sang the divine

Nyseïan Giver of Wine,

When the people in lots

With their sanctified Pots

Came reeling around my shrine.