Chapter_252

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No man is now, nor shall be, portionless

Of trouble: yet on Battus’ line

Still waits the olden bliss, though happiness

And grief may intertwine.

Kyrene’s warder-tower is this, a light

Of splendour on the stranger shed.

Yea, thunder-throated lions in affright

From Battus’ outcry fled⁠—

That voice from overseas! Your founder Apollo

Thrilled them with dread, that on the word

Of prophecy might sure fulfilment follow

For him, Kyrene’s lord.