Chapter_260

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Hear! for our ploughshare is sundering

The glebe-furrows of starry-eyed

Aphrodite, where Graces guide

Our feet drawing nigh to the shrine

At the navel of earth hollow-thundering,

Where for Emmenus’ heaven-blest line

And for Akragas’ city enfolden

By her river, and, more than all,

For Xenocrates, riseth the hall

Of a treasure-house song-upholden

In Apollo’s glen of the golden

Gifts gracing his temple-wall.