Th' accepted hymn, oh child of Jove, 15
Who dwells enthroned in clouds above,
Begin, for I to chant his praise
Their voice and social lyre will raise.
The fruit of my delightful toil
Shall crown the glory of the soil. 20
Where dwelt the Myrmidons of yore,
Whose ancient and illustrious race
Aristoclides with disgrace
Of tarnish'd fame ne'er cover'd o'er;
Subdued in the pancratium's fight, 25
Where heroes strive with valiant might. 27
He who on Nemea's fertile plain
The palm of conquest wins, has found
An antidote to labouring pain,
A healing balm for every wound. 30
With his sweet form's unequall'd grace
The valour of his arm agrees,
And onward bears in glory's race
The son of Aristophanes.
No farther o'er the trackless main 35
An easy passage hope to gain
Than where Alcides' pillars stand. 37
Placed by the hero god, to stay
The wandering seaman on his way,
And witness the proud naval band 40
What time on the Herculean main
The mighty monsters he had slain.
Impell'd by his adventurous mind
The springs of marshy lakes to find,
Proceeding far as he could roam, 45
He traced the realm and voyage home.
But to what distant headland, say,
Waft'st thou, oh mind, my sail away?
To Æacus I charge thee bear
