The blight that may blacken the bloom of thy trees.
Far from thy border, and far from thy dwelling
Be the hot blast that shrivels the bud in its swelling,
The seed-rotting taint, and the creeping disease!
Thy flocks still be doubled, thy seasons be steady,
And, when Hermes is near thee,[n59] thy hand still be ready
The Heaven-dropt bounty to seize!
Athena.
Hear her words, my city’s warders,
Fraught with blessing; she prevaileth