Chapter_250

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With reins unsnapped through all that hallowed space

Around the courses twelve he swung,

Nor car nor harness brake he in the race,

But dedicate hath hung

On Phoebus’ wall the craftsmen’s masteries

Riding whereon he passed ere then

The hill of Krisa to the plain that lies

In the God’s bosomed glen.

The cypress shrine now hath them in possession

By that self-moulded statue placed

Which Cretan bowmen ’neath the roof Parnassian

Unto the God upraised.