And I, their earnest fellow-worker, to mine heart enfold
This glorious race of Lokrians. Song’s honey-dew I shower
On that burg of heroic men. Thy praises have I told,
Archestratus’ all-comely son, whose victory in that hour
Achieved by prowess of thine hand by mine own eyes was seen.
Beside the altar crowned in that Olympian demesne
I saw him! Goodly was his presence, strength and beauty blended
With that spring-bloom which glowed on Ganymede when he ascended
Heaven-high above death’s ruthless clutch, by favour of Love’s Queen.