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Today you must stand beside a man dear to me, by the king of horsefamed Cyrene, and joining with Archesilaus in his victory revels, Muse, swell the breeze of songs owed to Leto's Twins and to Pytho, where once the priestess sitting in honor beside the golden eagles of Zeus, Apollo now in his land, proclaimed by oracle that Battos would be founder of fruitbearing Libya, so that he'd finally leave the holy island and plant a city of fine chariots on a chalky breast of earth, a
when you were asking what release might come
from the gods for a stammering voice.
After long time, even now, as at the peak
of crimson-flowered spring,
eighth in line from these children blossoms
Archesilaus: to whom Apollo and Pytho
granted glory in the chariot race
from the hands of the Amphictyons.
I shall offer to the Muses
him and the golden fleece of the ram:
for when the Minyans sailed after it,
were planted for them.
What then was the beg