Garlands of victory twined in Theron’s hair
Exact of me this debt that Heaven ordains
For Ainesidamus’ son in order fair
To blend the varying strains
Of lyres with voice of flutes and ordering
Of chanted words; and Pisa bids proclaim
His glory—Pisa, poesy’s well-spring
Whence, by the Gods inspired, the great songs ring
That give men deathless fame,