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THE SEVENTH PYTHIAN ODE.
Strophe I.
So nobly whence deduce the song,Sacred to Megacles' renown,
A chief from great Alcmæon sprung,
As from Minerva's mighty town?
Since where a family so great,
Thro' Grecia's realms is found;
And where so truly fam'd a state,
Thro' earth's capacious round?
Antistrophe I.
Athens, thy fame to all is known,Thy sons by all are prais'd,
Who, Phœbus, by mad foes o'erthrown,
Thy hallow'd temple rais'd:
And, Megacles, to sound thy fame,
Those conquests urge me on,
By thee, at every glorious game,
And thy forefathers won.
Epode
Even five Corinthian palms obtain'd,And one at great Olympus gain'd;
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Your late success I gladly hail,
Yet mourn that envy should prevail,
O'er fame and men like you.
Yet trust, your bliss is more secure,
Your fortune's column stands more sure,
Round which some winds have blown,
Than that to heaven its head which rears,
And tempests unmolesting dares,
Which blow!—and 'tis o'erthrown!
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