’Neath our song’s forecourt-rooftree pillars golden
Will we uprear; a palace shall it seem.
’Tis meet the forefront shine out far-beholden
Of work that hath such splendour-flashing theme.
The victor at Olympia, who withal
Is treasurer of Zeus’s oracle-altar,
Who is co-founder of the glorious wall
Of Syracuse—shall his song-praises falter?
Share not the joy his fellow-burghers all?