Chapter_371

6 0 00

But not for me is legend’s full unfolding,

Who see the law of song mine hand withholding:

Yea, and the hasting hours brook no delay.

A strong spell draws me on to sing the day

Of the New Moon that on those Games was shining.

Though round thee breast-high plash the deep-sea spray,

Stand firm! Strive on ’gainst treacherous foes’ designing!

O’er foes triumphant shall we win the port

In clear day! One of less heroic sort,

With envy evil-eyed, in darkness schemes;

But fruitless to the ground shall fall his dreams.