Chapter_200

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Who o’er Syracuse holdeth empery,

A king to his citizens gracious-souled;

Never jealous of good men’s weal is he

Whom stranger-friends from far lands hold

As a father with worshipful marvelling.

O might I but land on his shores and bring

A twofold boon, even health’s pure gold,

And the triumph-chant therewithal that I sing

To light with splendour the Pythian crown

Which his steed Pherenikus in days gone by

At Kirrha won for his lord’s renown,

To my friend then, crossing the deep sea, I

Had come as a light clear-shining afar,

Ay, beaming brighter than any star

In yonder sky.