天国のアナクレオンへ
Apollo rose up,
And said, "Pry'thee ne'er quarrel,
Good King of the Gods,
With My Vot'ries below:
Your Thunder is useless"--
Then showing his laurel,
Cry'd "Sic evitabile
Fulmen, you know!
Then over each head,
My laurels I'll spread,
So my sons from your Crackers
No mischief shall dread,