Antistrophe I
Know that the son of one who loved thee well
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[*]Like colt of sire bereaved,
[*]Is to the chariot of great evils yoked,
[*]And set thy limit to his weary path.
[*]Ah, would that one might see
[*]His panting footsteps, as he treads his course,
[*]Keeping due measure through this plain of ours!
Strophe III