Apart upon his knees that aged sire
Pray’d much unto Latona’s lordly son:
“Hear, hear, O hear, god of the silver bow!
Who’rt wont Chrysa and Cilla to protect,
And reignest in this island Tenedos,
If ever I did honour thee aright,
Thy graceful temple aiding to adorn,
Or if, moreover, I at any time
Have burn’d to thee fat thighs of bulls and goats,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat—