| |
Strophe 1
Whose haunts are by Kephissus’ river,
You queens beloved of poet’s song,
Ruling Orchomenus, that sunlit city
And land of lovely steeds,
Watch and ward of the ancient Minyan race,
Hear now my prayer, you Graces three.
For in your gift are all our mortal joys,
And every sweet thing, be it wisdom, beauty
Or glory, that makes rich the soul of man.
Nor even can the immortal gods
Order at their behest the dance and festals,
Lacking the Graces’ aid;
Who are the stewards of all the rites of heaven,
Whose thrones are set at Pytho
Beside pollo of the golden bow,
And who with everlasting honour
Worship the Father, lord of great Olympus.
Strophe 2
Euphrosyne, lover of song,
Anda Aglaia revered, daughters
Of Zeus the all-highest, hearken, and with Thalia,
Darling of harmony,
Look on our songs of revel, on ligh feet
Stepping to grace this happy hour.
For in this Lycidan measure, harvested
From the rich fruits of mind, I come to praise
Asopichus, whose Minyan house, Thalia,
Now of your favours wears the prie
Of the Olympian victor. Then let Echo
Speed to Persephone’s
Dark-walled dwelling, to his father Cleodemus
Bearing the glorious tidings,
That his young son, matched in the famous games
Of Pisa’s far-renownéd vale,
Has set the winged garland on his brow.
|
|
