Such horror is prisoned through years unending
’Neath the heights dark-leaved in the earth’s embrace,
While his back is furrowed with gory rending
By the flints of his restless resting-place!
O Zeus, may we in thy sight find grace
Who dost make this mountain thine habitation,
This rich land’s forefront, whose namesake-town
Her founder ennobled, what time his nation
Was “of Etna” published by proclamation
Of the Pythian herald who spake the renown
Of Hiero’s car-won victory-crown.