Considered the matter in doubt,
Until the Nomarchos as shrewdest
To Böotia this sentence gave out.
'To him heaven opens a portal,
No more at the flocks let him look.
He is destined to be an immortal,
Write poems--and publish a book.'
They found him a rod neat and slender,
In long garments they gave him to God;
Then he wrote them the Farmer's Calénder,