beside the altar of Zeus, the greatest ruler, the blossoms of glory-bringing Victory nurture for men golden, conspicuous fame throughout their lives—for a select few—and when the dark cloud of death covers them, the undying glory of their fine deed is left behind, secure in its destiny. You too have attained this at Nemea , son of Lampon; your hair crowned with garlands of flourishing blossoms, [you walk] the lofty streets of the city [of Aeacus, so that] your ancestral island [teems] with gentle-voiced victory processions, in which mortals delight, revealing your overweening strength in the pancratium. Kindly Aegina, daughter of the whirling river,