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Rh Thus splendid from afar should gleam

A noble deed's incipient beam—

The guard of Jove's prophetic shrine,

If he thy wreath, Olympia, bear,

Sprung from that old and noble line

Who founded Syracusa fair,

A grateful city hymns the hero's name,

While her unenvying sons unite in glad acclaim

In this exalted station placed,

The son of Sostratus is found

With no inglorious chaplet graced,

But with his well-earn'd honours crown'd.

The warrior on the battle plain,

The sailor on the trackless main,

Through paths of peril and dismay

Wins to renown his arduous way,

And when his toils achieve some glorious deed,

The memory of the good shall be his meed.

Agesias, may such ready praise be thine,

As to Oiclides, seer of Theban line,

Adrastus gave, when in an earthly tomb

Himself and noble steeds were hurried to their doom.

But when the seven funeral pyres

Raised to the dead their sacred fires,

In sorrow thus his Theban host

The son of Talaus address'd:

"The pride of all my army lost

Fills with regret this aching breast.

Quench'd is the augur's prescient light,

Nerveless the warrior's arm of fight."