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At every drinking-bout does he carouse,
And silly triflers feasting fill his house.
Well, let him boast in his exultant pride
That he from Atreus' lineage won his bride.
As he devoured the state with Myrsilus,
So let him now, until success to us
By Ares be restored, and we again
Relax our wrath and soul-consuming pain,
And our intestine strife, stirred up 'mongst us
By some Olympian god: to Pittacus
He gave the glory he to see did lust,
But on our people mournful ruin thrust.