Chapter_365

6 0 00

Late though it come. Most swift is the eagle of all winged things,

Who suddenly grips in his talons with far-flying swoop of his wings

His blood-stained quarry. But chattering daws o’er the low grounds hover.

On thee, whom the favour of Klio the splendour-throned doth cover

With glory, because of thy spirit, the athlete-champion’s mind,

From Nemea and Megara light, and from Epidaurus, hath shined.