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Odes of Pindar

With several other Pieces in Prose and Verse, Translated from the Greek. To which is added a dissertation on the Olympick games. By Gilbert West
  

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[PYTHIAN ODES]
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[PYTHIAN ODES]

THE FIRST PYTHIAN ODE.
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This Ode is inscribed to Hiero of Ætna, King of Syracuse, who, in the Twenty ninth Pythiad (which answers to the Seventy eighth Olympiad) gained the Victory in the Chariot-Race.

ARGUMENT.

The Poet, addressing himself in the first Place to his Harp, launches out immediately into a Description of the wonderful Effects produced in Heaven by the inchanting Harmony of that divine Instrument, when played upon by Apollo, and accompanied by the Muses: These Effects, says he, are to celestial Minds Delight and Rapture, but the contrary to the Wicked, who cannot hear, without Horror, this heavenly Musick. Having mentioned the Wicked, he falls into an Account of the Punishment of Typhœus, an impious Giant; who, having presumed to defy Jupiter, was by him cast into Tartarus, and then chained under Mount Ætna, whose fiery Eruptions he ascribes to this Giant, whom he therefore styles Vulcanian Monster. The Description of these Eruptions of Mount Ætna he closes with a short Prayer to Jupiter, who had a Temple upon that Mountain, and from thence passes to, what indeed is more properly the Subject of this Ode, the Pythian Victory of Hiero. This Part of the Poem is connected


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with what went before by the means of Ætna, a City built by Hiero, and named after the Mountain in whose Neighbourhood it stood. Hiero had ordered himself to be styled of Ætna by the Herald who proclaimed his Victory in the Pythian Games; from which glorious Beginning, says Pindar, the happy City presages to herself all kinds of Glory and Felicity for the future. Then addressing himself to Apollo, the Patron of the Pythian Games, he beseeches him to make the Citizens of Ætna great and happy; all human Excellencies being the Gifts of Heaven. To Hiero, in like manner, he wishes Felicity and Prosperity for the future, not to be disturbed by the Return or Remembrance of any post Afflictions. The Toils indeed and Troubles which Hiero had undergone, before he and his Brother Gelo obtained the Sovereignty of Syracuse, having been crowned with Success, will doubtless, says Pindar, recur often to his Memory with great Delight: And then taking notice of the Condition of Hiero, who, it seems, being at that Time troubled with the Stone, was carried about in the Army in a Litter, or Chariot, he compares him to Philoctetes: This Hero having been wounded in the Foot by one of Hercules's Arrows, staid in Lemnos to get cured of his Wound; but it being decreed by the Fates, that Troy should not be taken without those Arrows, of which Philoctetes had the Possession, the Greeks fetched him from Lemnos, lame and wounded as he was and carried him to the Siege. As Hiero resembled Philoctetes in one Point, may he also, adds the Poet, resemble him in another, and recover his Health by the Assistance of

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Divinity. Then addressing himself to Dinomenes, the Son of Hiero, whom that Prince intended to make King of Ætna, he enters into an Account of the Colony, which Hiero had settled in that City: The People of this Colony, being originally descended from Sparta, were, at their own Request, governed by the Laws of that famous Commonwealth. To this Account Pindar subjoins a Prayer to Jupiter, imploring him to grant that both the King and People of Ætna may, by answerable Deeds, maintain the Glory and Splendor of their Race; and that Hiero, and his Son Dinomenes, taught to govern by the Precepts of his Father, may be able to dispose their Minds to Peace and Unity. For this Purpose, continues he, do thou, O Jupiter, prevent the Carthaginians and the Tuscans from invading Sicily any more, by recalling to their Minds the great Losses they had lately sustained from the Valour of Hiero and his Brothers; into a more particular Detail of whose Courage and Virtue, Pindar insinuates he would gladly enter, was he not afraid of being too prolix and tedious; a Fault which is apt to breed in the Reader Satiety and Disgust; and though, continues he, excessive Fame produces often the same Effects in envious Minds, yet do not thou, O Hiero! upon that Consideration, omit doing any great or good Action; it being far better to be envied than to be pitied. With this, and some Precepts useful to all Kings in general, and others more peculiarly adapted to the Temper of Hiero, whom, as he was somewhat inclined to Avarice, he encourages to Acts of Generosity and Munificence, from the Consideration of the Fame accruing to Princes of that Character,

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and the Infamy redounding to Tyrants, he concludes; winding up all with observing, that the First of all human Blessings consists in being virtuous; the Second in being praised; and that he, who has the Happiness to enjoy both these at the same Time, is arrived at the highest Point of earthly Felicity.

DECADE I.

Hail, golden Lyre! whose Heav'n-invented String
To Phœbus, and the black-hair'd Nine belongs;
Who in sweet Chorus round their tuneful King
Mix with thy sounding Chords their sacred Songs.

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The Dance, gay Queen of Pleasure, Thee attends;
Thy jocund Strains her list'ning Feet inspire:
And each melodious Tongue its Voice suspends
'Till Thou, great Leader of the heav'nly Quire,
With wanton Art preluding giv'st the Sign—
Swells the full Concert then with Harmony divine.

DECADE II.

Then, of their streaming Lightnings all disarm'd,
The smouldring Thunderbolts of Jove expire:
Then, by the Musick of thy Numbers charm'd,
The Birds fierce Monarch drops his vengeful Ire;
Perch'd on the Sceptre of th'Olympian King,
The thrilling Darts of Harmony he feels;
And indolently hangs his rapid Wing,
While gentle Sleep his closing Eyelid seals;

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And o'er his heaving Limbs in loose Array
To ev'ry balmy Gale the ruffling Feathers play.

DECADE III.

Ev'n Mars, stern God of Violence and War,
Sooths with thy lulling Strains his furious Breast,
And driving from his Heart each bloody Care,
His pointed Lance consigns to peaceful Rest.
Nor less enraptur'd each immortal Mind
Owns the soft Influence of inchanting Song,
When, in melodious Symphony combin'd,
Thy Son, Latona, and the tuneful Throng
Of Muses, skill'd in Wisdom's deepest Lore,
The subtle Pow'rs of Verse and Harmony explore.

DECADE IV.

But they, on Earth, or the devouring Main,
Whom righteous Jove with Detestation views,
With envious Horror hear the heav'nly Strain,
Exil'd from Praise, from Virtue, and the Muse.
Such is Typhœus, impious Foe of Gods,
Whose hundred headed Form Cilicia's Cave
Once foster'd in her infamous Abodes;
'Till daring with presumptuous Arms to brave

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The Might of Thund'ring Jove, subdued he fell,
Plung'd in the horrid Dungeons of profoundest Hell.

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DECADE V.

Now under sulph'rous Cama's Sea-bound Coast,
And vast Sicilia lies his shaggy Breast;
By snowy Ætna, Nurse of endless Frost,
The pillar'd Prop of Heav'n, for ever press'd:
Forth from whose nitrous Caverns issuing rise
Pure liquid Fountains of tempestuous Fire,
And veil in ruddy Mists the Noon-day Skies,
While wrapt in Smoke the eddying Flames aspire,
Or gleaming thro' the Night with hideous Roar
Far o'er the red'ning Main huge rocky Fragments pour.

DECADE VI.

But he, Vulcanian Monster, to the Clouds
The fiercest, hottest Inundations throws,
While with the Burthen of incumbent Woods,
And Ætna's gloomy Cliffs o'erwhelm'd he glows.
There on his flinty Bed-out-stretch'd he lies,
Whose pointed Rock his tossing Carcase wounds:
There with Dismay he strikes beholding Eyes,
Or frights the distant Ear with horrid Sounds.
O save us from thy Wrath, Sicilian Jove!
Thou, that here reign'st, ador'd in Ætna's sacred Grove!

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DECADE VII.

Ætna, fair Forehead of this fruitful Land!
Whose borrow'd Name adorns the Royal Town,
Rais'd by illustrious Hiero's gen'rous Hand,
And render'd glorious with his high Renown.
By Pythian Heralds were her Praises sung,
When Hiero triumph'd in the dusty Course,
When sweet Castalia with Applauses rung,
And glorious Laurels crown'd the conqu'ring Horse,
The happy City for her future Days
Presages hence Increase of Victory and Praise.

DECADE VIII.

Thus when the Mariners to prosp'rous Winds,
The Port forsaking, spread their swelling Sails;
The fair Departure chears their jocund Minds
With pleasing Hopes of favourable Gales,
While o'er the dang'rous Desarts of the Main,
To their lov'd Country they pursue their Way.
Ev'n so, Apollo, thou, whom Lycia's Plain,
Whom Delus, and Castalia's Springs obey,
These Hopes regard, and Ætna's Glory raise
With valiant Sons, triumphant Steeds, and heav'nly Lays!

DECADE IX.

For human Virtue from the Gods proceeds;
They the wife Mind bestow'd, and smooth'd the Tongue.
With Elocution, and for mighty Deeds
The nervous Arm with manly Vigour strung.

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All these are Hiero's: these to Rival Lays
Call forth the Bard: Arise then, Muse, and speed
To this Contention; strive in Hiero's Praise,
Nor fear thy Efforts shall his Worth exceed;
Within the Lines of Truth secure to throw,
Thy Dart shall still surpass each vain attempting Foe.

DECADE X.

So may succeeding Ages, as they roll,
Great Hiero still in Wealth and Bliss maintain,
And joyous Health recalling, on his Soul
Oblivion pour of Life-consuming Pain.

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Yet may thy Memory with sweet Delight
The various Dangers, and the Toils recount,
Which in intestine Wars and bloody Fight
Thy patient Virtue, Hiero, did surmount;
What Time, by Heav'n above all Grecians crown'd,
The Prize of sov'reign Sway with thee thy Brother found.

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DECADE XI.

Then like the Son of Pæan didst thou war,
Smit with the Arrows of a sore Disease;
While, as along slow rolls thy sickly Carr,
Love and Amaze the haughtiest Bosoms seize.
In Lemnos pining with th'envenom'd Wound
The Son of Pæan, Philoctetes, lay:
There, after tedious Quest, the Heroes found,
And bore the limping Archer thence away;
By whom fell Priam's Tow'rs (so Fate ordain'd)
And the long harrass'd Greeks their wish'd Repose obtain'd.

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DECADE XII.

May Hiero too, like Pæan's Son, receive
Recover'd Vigour from celestial Hands!
And may the Healing God proceed to give
The Pow'r to gain whate'er his Wish demands.
But now, O Muse, address thy sounding Lays
To young Dinomenes, his virtuous Heir.
Sing to Dinomenes, his Father's Praise;
His Father's Praise shall glad his filial Ear.
For him hereafter shalt thou touch the String,
And chant in friendly Strains fair Ætna's future King.

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DECADE XIII.

Hiero for him th'illustrious City rear'd,
And fill'd with Sons of Greece her stately Tow'rs,
Where by the free-born Citizen rever'd
The Spartan Laws exert their virtuous Pow'rs.
For by the Statutes, which their Fathers gave,
Still must the restive Dorian Youth be led;
Who dwelling once on cold Eurotas' Wave,
Where proud Taÿgetus exalts his Head,
From the great Stock of Hercules divine
And warlike Pamphilus deriv'd their noble Line.

DECADE XIV.

These from Thessalian Pindus rushing down,
The Walls of fam'd Amyclæ once possess'd,
And rich in Fortune's Gifts and high Renown,
Dwelt near the Twins of Leda, while they press'd

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Their milky Coursers, and the Pastures o'er
Of neighb'ring Argos rang'd, in Arms supreme.
To King and People on the flow'ry Shore
Of lucid Amena, Sicilian Stream,
Grant the like Fortune, Jove, with like Desert
The Splendor of their Race and Glory to assert.

DECADE XV.

And do thou aid Sicilia's hoary Lord
To form and rule his Son's obedient Mind;
And still in golden Chains of sweet Accord,
And mutual Peace the friendly People bind,
Then grant, O Son of Saturn, grant my Pray'r!
The bold Phœnician on his Shore detain;
And may the hardy Tuscan never dare
To vex with clam'rous War Sicilia's Main;

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Rememb'ring Hiero, how on Cuma's Coast
Wreck'd by his stormy Arms their groaning Fleets were lost.

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DECADE XVI.

What Terrors! what Destruction them assail'd!
Hurl'd from their riven Decks what Numbers dy'd!
When o'er their Might Sicilia's Chief prevail'd,
Their Youth o'er-whelming in the foamy Tide;

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Greece from impending Servitude to save.
Thy Favour, glorious Athens! to acquire
Would I record the Salaminian Wave
Fam'd in thy Triumphs: and my tuneful Lyre
To Sparta's Sons with sweetest Praise should tell,
Beneath Cithæron's Shade what Medish Archers fell.

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DECADE XVII.

But on fair Himera's wide-water'd Shores
Thy Sons, Dinomenes, my Lyre demand,
To grace their Virtues with the various Stores
Of sacred Verse, and sing th'illustrious Band
Of valiant Brothers, who from Carthage won
The glorious Meed of Conquest, deathless Praise.
A pleasing Theme! but Censure's dreaded Frown
Compels me to contract my spreading Lays.
In Verse Conciseness pleases ev'ry Guest,
While each impatient blames and loaths a tedious Feast.

DECADE XVIII.

Nor less distasteful is excessive Fame
To the sour Palate of the envious Mind;
Who hears with Grief his Neighbour's goodly Name,
And hates the Fortune that he ne'er shall find.
Yet in thy Virtue, Hiero, persevere!
Since to be envied is a nobler Fate
Than to be pitied: Let strict Justice steer
With equitable Hand the Helm of State,
And arm thy Tongue with Truth: O King, beware
Of ev'ry Step! a Prince can never lightly err.

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DECADE XIX.

O'er many Nations art thou set, to deal
The Goods of Fortune with impartial Hand;
And ever watchful of the publick Weal,
Unnumber'd Witnesses around thee stand.
Then would thy virtuous Ear for ever feast
On the sweet Melody of well-earn'd Fame,
In gen'rous Purposes confirm thy Breast,
Nor dread Expences that will grace thy Name;
But scorning sordid and unprincely Gain,
Spread all thy bounteous Sails, and launch into the Main.

DECADE XX.

When in the mouldring Urn the Monarch lies,
His Fame in lively Characters remains,
Or grav'd in Monumental Histories,
Or deck'd and painted in Aonian Strains.
Thus fresh, and fragrant, and immortal blooms
The Virtue, Crœsus, of thy gentle Mind.
While Fate to Infamy and Hatred dooms
Sicilia's Tyrant, Scorn of human kind;
Whose ruthless Bosom swell'd with cruel Pride,
When in his Brazen Bull the broiling Wretches dy'd.

DECADE XXI.

Him therefore nor in sweet Society
The gen'rous Youth conversing ever name;
Nor with the Harp's delightful Melody
Mingle his odious inharmonious Fame.

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The First, the greatest Bliss on Man conferr'd
Is, in the Acts of Virtue to excel;
The Second, to obtain their high Reward,
The Soul-exalting Praise of doing well.
Who both these Lots attains, is bless'd indeed,
Since Fortune here below can give no richer Meed.