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190 So shall the hymn's triumphant tone

The hero's glorious deeds that sings

Exalt him to the rank of kings.

Though now by Acheron he dwell,

Yet shall my tongue his conquests tell;

When Corinth round the victor's brow

In thund'ring Neptune's game her parsley bade to glow.

He by thy willing grandsire's tongue,

Old Euphanes, has erst been sung,

Coevals, youth, in other days;

For best, as in heroic deeds,

By Fortune aided, each succeeds,

Each his bright eloquence displays;

As he Melesias who commends

At once the doubtful strife suspends:

Weaving the melodies of song,

Unconquer'd in the wrestler's toil,

Mild to the good and friendly throng,

But rough his enemies to foil.