Chapter_264

6 0 00

That cry on the air was not wasted;

But withstanding a mightier alone,

His father’s life with his own

That godlike son redeemed,

And death’s cup of glory he tasted.

So in after days he seemed

To the sons of each new generation

In those old times bygone

Ever the noblest son

In filial love’s consecration.

Now⁠—by none out of any nation

Is Thrasybulus outdone