Classic Poem

Happy winds, girdled with zephyrs, who about dewy gardens nourish eternal flowers and soft greensward in the returning spring—to you Corydon dedicates this grove of Idalian myrtle and Peneidian laurel, from green turf raises seven altars by the margin of this mossy pool.
Lighten the heat, and with glad murmuring appease the brilliant rays of the burning sun. So may clouds never darken your wanderings, so for you may the sea laugh and the earth.