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Rh What palms to him from Delphic contests rise!

What honours Nemea's grassy field supplies!

If all his glorious deeds my song would tell,

The shore's unnumber'd stones I might recount as well.

Wisdom still follows in the mean,

On every fit occasion seen.

I, when true friendship wakes the string,

Prudence or warlike fame to sing,

Not e'en for Corinth's sires will raise

Strains of exaggerated praise.

Thence Sisyphus, the craftiest son of earth,

His hands endued with more than mortal skill,

And to this race Medea owes her birth,

Whose wedded choice opposed her father's will.

Her ready aid, by love inspired, could save

Argo and all her crew from the remorseless grave.

What time the troops in long array

Appear'd before the Dardan wall,

Anxious to end the doubtful fray,

Begun at the Atridæ's call.

When, aided by their friendly host,

Greece strove her Helen to regain,

And Troy beyond her threaten'd coast

To drive th' invaders to the main.

While Danaus' sons with fear survey'd

Glaucus, from Lycia's field array'd—

The plain, he said with conscious pride,

Where flows Pirene's sacred tide,

That was my sire's dominion fair,

Whose palace tower'd in splendour there.

Bold Pegasus, the snaky Gorgon's son,

He strove to curb with many an effort vain,

Where that sweet fountain's bubbling waters run,

Till virgin Pallas brought the golden rein.

In vision to his couch of rest she came,