Page:Pindar and Anacreon.djvu/72

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What, time, as Epharmostus leads,

By Saturn's hill the pomp proceeds.

But haste the sounding shafts to throw

From the far-darting muses' bow;

The first to heaven's eternal king,

Who guides the lightning's lurid wing;

The next to Elis' sacred tower,

Uprear'd the rocky heights above,

Which Lydian Pelops gain'd, fair dower

Of chaste Hippodameia's love.

Towards Pytho next thine efforts bend,

A sweet and winged shaft to send.

Nor shalt thou raise a feeble strain,

Earth sprung, that falls to earth again.

When in fair Opus' praise you shake the string,

And her brave hero of the wrestler's ring;

Whose sons, preserved by equal laws, obey

Bright Themis and her glorious daughter's sway.

There now the virtues flourish wide,

And with transplanted radiance glow,

Blooming as by Alphéus' tide,

Or where Castalia's waters flow.

Hence from her verdant grove the frequent crown

His Locrian city's fame exalts with fair renown.

But I, who joy my much-loved state

With festal hymns to celebrate,

Swift as the courser sweeps the plain,

Or winged vessel ploughs the main,

To all the listening world around

Will send the conquest's joyful sound.