Shall for the triumph of thy ring-craft grace
With splendour thy bright olive-wreath,
And honour therewithal the Lokrian race
Fanned by the West-wind’s breath.
O Song-queens, hither speed your festal feet!
I pledge me in sincerity
No guest-repelling folk ye there shall meet,
Nor in fair chivalry
Unschooled: nay, over wisdom’s heights they range,
They with the spear were valiant ever.
That these be like their sires is nowise strange:
Red fox and thunder-throated lion change
Their inborn nature never.