The joy of triumph few have won without hard toil, I ween,
The joy that is a light of life that makes the toil seem naught.
Statutes of Zeus have kindled me to sing the peerless queen
Of contests, which beside the tomb of Pelops ancient-wrought
Did Heracles with altars six found in that haunted dell
When Kteatus, Poseidon’s flawless son, before him fell;