And they couched with the women: in alien furrows there did they sow
By night or by day the fateful seed of the bright sun-glow
Of your line’s fair fortune. Planted there was Euphemus’ race,
Destined to fadeless increase through ever-during days.
In the homesteads of Lacedaemon the wanderers tarried awhile;
In Thera thereafter abode they, once named Kalliste’s Isle.
Thence was it the Son of Leto led your sires oversea,
And gave them the plains of Libya, to bring prosperity
To the land by god-given honours, and to rule o’er the hallowed town
Of golden-throned Kyrene, the Nymph of old renown,