For him above the Elektran Gate we burghers the feast prepare,
And the crown-like ring of the altars newly-built will we set to him there,
And our sacrifices will offer for those eight bronze-mailed heroes who died,
Whom Megara, Kreon’s daughter, bare, that mighty Hero’s bride—
They unto whom at the sun’s down-going the nightlong flame is uplifted,
And with odorous reek its smoke is lashing the welkin, through cloudland drifted.