To chant a triumph than all more sweet,
Inspiration-wafted, as one that flies
In a chariot, on paths of utterance meet,
Till I win unto Kronos’ Hill sunbright.
O yea, in my Muses’ quiver lies
A song-arrow winged for stronger flight.
By diverse paths men upward aspire:
Earth’s highest summit by kings is attained.
Thou therefore look to attain no higher
Than earth. Be it thine on the height thou hast gained
To pace mid splendour of royal achieving
Thy life through: mine be it no less long
To consort with victors, from Hellas receiving
The world o’er praise for my song.