Now be it mine to make such song-oblation,
To Zeus Kronion tendering dedication
Thereof, and Nemea. This my prelude be
To Timasarchus’ wrestling. Be it of thee
Welcomed, O Aiakids’ stronghold goodly-towered,
Beacon of justice, aliens’ sanctuary!
O were thy sire Timokritus yet dowered
With life’s heat by the sun all-quickening,
Oft bending o’er the changeful cithern-string
Would he have waked his music for his son,
And hymned the glorious triumph he hath won,