Chapter_215

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When thou earnest to ask what healing the Gods would grant of their grace

For thy stammering tongue. Of a surety now in the latter days,

As when mid the springtide’s roses a burgeoning tree is seen,

So, eighth in the line of Battus, Arkesilas’ leaf is green.

Even him did Apollo and Pytho cause to be triumph-renowned

In the chariot-race in the presence of all folk dwelling around.

I will hymn his fame to the Song-queens, and will sing of the Golden Fleece,

Of the Minyans’ Quest and the sowing of god-given glory for these.