Chapter_255

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Kind welcome to that chariot-driving band

With gifts and sacrifice they gave

Whom Aristoteles brought to Libyan land

In swift ships o’er the wave,

Cleaving a deep path through the sea, and made

Greater the temple-groves divine,

And for the festival-processions laid

A paved road’s level line

For trampling steeds, and pilgrims magnifying

Apollo, Helper of our race.

There now in death apart is Battus lying

Hard by the market-place.