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Hail, all hail! O mighty prince!  fair the cub you have bred, 0 Thrace, a ruler in his every look. See his stalwart frame in golden corslet! Hark to the ringing bells that peal so proudly from his shield-handle.  A god, O Troy, a god, a very Ares, Strymon's colt and the tuneful Muse's, has come to breathe courage into you.
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