Book, Chapter

1   1, 8 |   chariot-driver came,~Loosely hung his scanty garments, and
2   2, 2 |        made a whirling discus, hung it 'neath the open sky,~
3   2, 2 |     its coolness, wreaths were hung of sweetest scent,~All around
4   2, 3 |       monarchs, and the target hung an high,~Through yon whirling
5   5, 4 |      ponderous axe on shoulder hung,~For the distant darksome
6   7, 5 |       a dark unending midnight hung on us this age forlorn,~
7   8, 10|       boy I called him father, hung upon him lovingly,~Perish
8  10, 2 |    sabre, joined his hands and hung his head,~Fixed his eye
9  12, 2 | streamers are on golden arches hung,~Groups of men and gay-dressed