Chapter_146

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And shadowed was his head by garlands twain

When Isthmus saw him win the parsley-meed:

Kindness no less from Nemea did he gain

The record of his father’s lightning speed

Is treasured still where Alpheus softly paces.

Yea, and at Pytho by his feet were won

The crowns of honour in the twofold races,

Single and double, under one day’s sun.

In that same month at rocky Athens-town

A day fulfilled of glorious victory

Set on his hair crown after victor’s crown

Whose flying feet had won him races three.