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A people's love was still his own;

While other sacred monarchs laid

Apart to death's impervious shade

Before the palace gates are flown.

And now thy mighty valour's fame,

Steep'd in the hymn's mellifluous dew,

Piercing their ear with loud acclaim,

Earth's dark recess shall travel through.

The common bliss of all the race,

Whose wreaths Arcesilaus grace.

His triumphs in the Pythian field

Apollo with his sword of gold

In graceful numbers shall unfold;

A recompense the lyric strain

Recited by the youthful train,

For all his toil and cost will yield.

'Tis said of old the prudent raise

Their voice in such a hero's praise.

Superior to his tender years,

He carries an unshaken mind,

And bold of tongue and heart appears

The eagle of the feather'd kind;

Whose wide-extended wings display

His sheltering valour in the fray.

He from his early youth sublime

Was skill'd to raise the sudden rhyme,

And foremost in th' equestrian war

Guide to the goal his rapid car.

Of native arts through each fair road

His persevering steps have trod;

And still to crown his efforts high

May heaven its ready aid supply;

And grant him, bless'd Saturnian line,

In council as in act to shine!