To Lacedæmon's fertile seats
And hardy sons the wanderers come;465
Then fair Callista's island greets
The heroes in a foreign home.
With honour hence derived from heaven
To you Latoides [1] has given
Fair Libya's wealthy plain to crown,470
And golden-throned Cyrene's town
With counsel justly framed to sway,
Which her bless'd citizens obey. 466
Now learn the Theban sage's art—[2]
If sharp-edged axe with ruthless stroke475
Her branches from the giant oak,
The form disgraced, compel to part,
Though shorn her fruit, enough is there
Her pristine beauties to declare—
If fire be ever sought at last480
To shelter from the wintry blast,
Or among pillars straight and tall,
It now sustain some lordly dome,
Hard labour in a foreign wall,
Leaving all bare its native home. 479485
Thou a most timely healer art,
Since Pasan's favour crowns thy name—
Then, oh! a tender hand impart
To heal the state's disorder'd frame:
A city's pride the weakest arm490
May shake with danger and alarm.
But hard indeed the task to place
Her glory on its ancient base,
Unless the god with sudden sway
