Now echoing with various noise?
Bromius is mine! is mine!
I am the man who ought to sing,
I am the man who ought to raise the strain,
Hastening o'er the hills,
In swift inspired dance among the Naiades;
Blending a song of varied strain,
Like the sweet dying swan.
You, O Pierian Muse, the sceptre sway
Of holy song: