With prayer and sacrifice ceased not adoring
Heaven’s herald Hermes, him in whom begun
Be Games and ended, who is honour pouring
On Arcady’s hero-land—He, Sostratus’ son,
With his deep-thundering Sire, thy bliss fulfils.
My tongue is poesy’s whetstone shrilly-sounding!
That fancy all my willing spirit thrills
With breathings beauty-rippling. Flower-abounding
Metope in Stymphalus ringed of hills,