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204 Nor can I tell whose prosperous state

On constant height is raised by fate:

That, bless'd Thearion, gives to thee

Due portion of felicity.

Since prudence ne'er deserts thy mind,

With glorious hardihood combined,

May I, a stranger, still be pure

From reprehension's tale obscure!

As rills convey'd into the field

Their fructifying moisture yield,

So I with just and liberal praise

The friendly hero's name will raise.

Such is the guerdon of the brave.

Nor let a Greek attack my name,

Approaching near, with voice of blame,

Who dwells beyond th' Ionian wave.

Trusting their hospitable love,

Among the townsmen's social throng

With look serene and bright I move,

And foot estranged from force or wrong.

Advancing time new bliss convey!

And let the man who knows me say

If to the strain my tongue impart

The slanders of a rancorous heart.

Oh Sogenes! who from the tribe art sprung

Of brave Euxenidæ, (I swear

That like the brass-tipp'd javelin, ne'er

I sent beyond the mark my rapid tongue,)

Who carriedst from the wrestler's toil

A sinewy neck and corporal might

Which labour's dew could never soil,

Nor sun oppress with noonday light.

And though full arduous were the deed,

More sweet succeeding triumph's meed,