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Chorus
Muse of the sacred dances, advance and come to enjoy my song,
to see the great throng of people, where wits
sit by the thousand
more honorable than Cleophon, on whose babbling lips
roars terribly
a Thracian swallow
sitting on an alien leaf.
She rumbles her sorrowful nightingale's song, since he will perish
even in case of a tie.

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