Chapter_18

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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.