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Rh

'Twas there thou deignedst to bestow

The greatest joy of man below,

And gav'st him at thy feast, oh king,

Snatch'd with an eager hand, to bring

The high pentathlic guerdon home.

With willing mind accept my prayer,

And view the numbers which declare

In honey'd pomp, but words of truth,

The deeds of this victorious youth.

Your fate, Xenarcidæ, to bless

I ask the gods' perpetual love.

For should a hero's might success

With no laborious effort prove,

His prosperous life the witless tribe

To his own prudent aims ascribe.

The vigour of a mortal hand

Such happiness can ne'er command.

For by the gods' superior power

To hope and joy the vanquish'd rise,

While he whose boundless wishes tower,

Beneath their arm defended lies.

Thy valiant deeds unknown to fail,

Delighted Megara proclaims,

And Marathon's sequester'd vale;

Thee too in Juno's kindred games

Thrice crown'd th' applauding circle sees,

Victorious Aristomenes!

Triumphant in the wrestler's hardy toil

Thy frame upon four prostrate bodies lay—

No wish'd return from the dire Pythian fray

The gods decreed to their loved native soil.