Fortunate in your fate, commander of the Syracusans, riders of whirling horses: you, if any man on earth today, will rightly understand this honor, sweet gift of the violet-garlanded Muses. Now, calm your righteous mind; rest it from cares, and consider: a hymn, woven with the help of the deep-waisted Graces, is sent from the holy island Ceos, off the coast of Attica ; homeland of Bacchylides and his uncle, the poet Simonides. to your glorious city by your guest-friend, the brilliant servant of Ourania with her golden headband. He wants to pour forth his voice from his heart