’Tis Phoebus gives to men and women skill
To heal all manner of disease;
He gave the lyre, he teacheth whom he will
All Song’s sweet melodies.
Into men’s hearts Fair Governance he brings,
Mother of peace: o’er Pytho’s cell
He broodeth, whence his voice prophetic rings.
In Sparta he made dwell,
In Argos, Pylos’ hallowed town, undaunted
Heracles’ and Aigimius’ line.
Now Sparta’s dear renown must needs be chanted
By her son’s lips, yea, mine.