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Rh Justly his deed was done,

Unto what other one,

Of all the gods, should I for justice turn?

From him our race did spring;

Creator he and King,

Ancient of days and wisdom he, and might.

As bark before the wind,

So, wafted by his mind,

Moves every counsel, each device aright.

Beneath no stronger hand

Holds he a weak command,

No throne doth he abase him to adore;

Swift as a word, his deed

Acts out what stands decreed

In counsels of his heart, for evermore.

Take heart, my children: the land's heart is kind

And to full issue has their voting come.

All hail, my sire; thy word brings utmost joy.

Say, to what issue is the vote made sure,

And how prevailed the people's crowding hands?

With one assent the Argives spake their will,

And, hearing, my old heart took youthful cheer.

The very sky was thrilled when high in air

The concourse raised right hands and swore their oath:—