Now when to fruitage of youth golden-pinioned
He won, to Alpheus’ mid-stream he strode
’Neath the night-stars, and on the wide-dominioned,
His grandsire, called, and Delos’ Archer-god,
Praying, “Let honour nation-fostering rest
Upon mine head!” And answer made his father
With voice infallible to his request:
“Arise, and to that place where all men gather
Follow, my son, obeying my behest.”