Chapter_435

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For if any, together with wealth abounding, have won him renown far-shining bright,

It can nowise be that a mortal’s feet may attain any loftier mountain-height.

Peace loveth the banquet: a conqueror’s fame like a tree grows with fresh-blossoming glory

Watered by soft-dropping dews of song. By the goblet the bard’s voice waxeth bold.

Let them mingle the mazer that heraldeth sweetly triumph’s processional-chant outrolled,