But violence bringeth low the fool high-vaunting
At last. Cihcia’s spawn, that demon-thing,
Typhoeus hundred-headed, spirit-daunting,
Escaped not thee, nor yet the Giants’ king,
Whom lightning’s wing
And Phoebus’ shafts o’erthrew, though ne’er so strong.
Phoebus received with gracious condescending
Xenokrates’ son home from Kirrha wending
Crowned with Parnassian wreaths and Dorian song.