[From a Delos mosaic and the cover of Pierre Roussel's "Delos: holiest of islands"' Greek edition (1994); originally published in 1925]

Oh Delos, if you would only like to host my son,

Phoebus Apollo, and erect an opulent temple for him!

No alien is destined to ever approach or notice you,

nor do I foresee an abundance of sheep and cattle,

nor grapes to gather nor countless plants to grow.

Should you own far-reaching Apollo's temple, however,

all people will be sacrificing for you hundreds of bulls

gathered right here, and the perennially ascending

smell of burnt fat will be beyond description;

and your inhabitants will be fed by the hands of others,

with no part of your soil being soft and fertile.

[From the Homeric Hymn to Apollo (51-60, my translation); do not be fooled, the rider shown is Dionysos, reigning to this day in nearby Mykonos and throughout the Aegean!]

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