Delian virgins at the gate
Assembled, festive pæans sing,
The triumphs of Latona’s son relate,
And nimbly vaulting form their beauteous ring.
Into thy temple, by devotion led,
O Phœbus, will I raise my parting breath;
The swan thus warbles at the hour of death:
Though hoary hairs my cheeks o’erspread.
How great the hero’s generous love,
Whose merits aid our votive song,
Alcides the resistless son of Jove;
Those trophies, which to noble birth belong
By him are all surpassed, his forceful hand
Restoring peace, hath cleansed this monster-teeming land.