Above the abode of either king.With these, symphonious, sing —Ah, Linos, say — ah, Linos, song of wail!But may the good prevail! Zeus, whosoe’er he be, — if that expressAught dear to him on whom I call —So do I him address.I cannot liken out, by allAdmeasurement of powers,Any but Zeus for refuge at such hours,If veritably needs I mustFrom off my soul its vague care-burthen thrust. Not — whosoever was the great of yore,Bursting to bloom with bravery all round —Is in our mouths: he was, but is no more.And who it was that after came to be,