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Rh Permit me for the victor's sake

A strain of louder note to wake.

No churlish bard sings thy renown.

'Twere easy for the victor's brow

To twine a leafy wreath—but thou

Expect the muse's golden crown;

Who plucks the flower of ivory hue,

And coral steep'd in ocean dew.

But, tranquil mind, a bolder lay

Must hymn great Jove and Nemea's fray;

Since on this soil the heavenly king

'Tis fit with voice divine to sing;

For, Hercules, thy brother guest,

Whose mild sway rules my country bless'd,

From him and the maternal seed

By fame is stated to proceed,

If man to man assistance lend,

What joy so grateful shall we find

As that of neighbour and of friend

Who loves us with a constant mind?

And if the gods are prone to feel

The same desire for others' weal,

Near thee, who couldst the giants quell,

Securely Sogenes might dwell,

Tending his sire with pious care

In his forefathers' city fair.

For as the doubly yoked steed

Urges the rapid chariot's speed,

On either hand thy neighb'ring dome,

Alcides, guards his humbler home.