We will lead the revel, O Queens of Song, from Apollo’s Sikyonian fane
Unto new-built Etna—whose doors flung wide are too strait the throng of her guests to contain—
On unto Chromius’ wealthy palace. Upraise ye the chant of lips sweet-singing!
He hath mounted his car of the steeds triumphant, proclaiming a hymn in the Mother’s praise
And of her twin offspring who ward in fellowship Pytho through everlasting days