Of this my fatherland, the teeming wealth
Of Argos, and, the greatest and the best
Of sights to weary exiles, here I see405
My native soil and my ancestral gods
(If gods indeed there be). And there, behold,
The sacred towers by hands of Cyclops reared,
In beauty far excelling human art;
The race-course thronged with youth, where oftentimes
Have I within my father's chariot
Sped on to victory and fair renown.410