To thy paternal walls at last,
On Libya's fertile shore. 70
But no one is, or e'er shall be
From grief, the lot of mortals, free.
Yet Battus' ancient fortunes wait 75
His prosperous and his adverse state.
He forms the city's guardian pride,
A shining light to all beside.
Struck with deep awe and panic dread,
From him the roaring lions fled; [1] 80
When he to speak, divinely taught,
A language o'er the ocean brought.
Apollo struck the beasts with fear,
Who led the colonizing train,
Lest great Cyrene's lord should hear, 85
And find the high prediction vain. 84
He who to man with healing art
Could blunt disease's heavy dart;
Who gives the lyre's sweet notes to flow,
And muse to still each mental wo; 90
Bidding within his favourites' breast
The tranquil love of virtue rest,
And ruling the prophetic sound
That issues from his cave profound,
This could in Lacedæmon place, 95
In Argos, Pylos the divine,
The chiefs of brave Alcides' race,
And old Ægimius' noble line.
Let me the fair renown proclaim,
Which from illustrious Sparta came. 98 100
My fathers hence to Thera's seat
Th' Ægidæ moved their wandering feet.
