So now for me there are countless paths of song leading in every direction, thanks to dark-haired Nike and Ares with his bronze breastplate, to sing of your excellence, noble sons of Deinomenes. May the god not tire of doing good. Beside the wide-whirling Alpheus, golden-armed Dawn saw the victory of the chestnut horse Pherenicus, a runner swift as a wind-storm, and she saw him win in very holy Pytho . Laying my hand on the earth, I make this declaration: never in any contest has he been fouled by the dust of faster horses as he strained toward the finish-line. In force he is like Boreas; obeying his rider, he speeds a new victory and new applause to hospitable Hieron. Prosperous is he to whom a god has given a share of fine things, and a rich life to live out with enviable luck. For no man on earth was born to be fortunate in everything.