Then rang the close with songs, as music rings through banquet-hall.
So voices still the victor sing, and feet the revel tread.
Now, as the grey beginnings of those contests we recall,
We too, in song named after Victory stately-charioted,
Will chant the thunder’s praise, the fiery-handed flames that fly
In crimson-flickering bolts of Him who wakes the thunder’s cry,
And sendeth down upon the earth his lurid-gleaming levin
Which sealeth every victory with Zeus’s sign from heaven.
And consonant with flutes shall ring my song’s rich melody,