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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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THE ELEVENTH NEMEAN ODE.
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THE ELEVENTH NEMEAN ODE.
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This Ode is incribed to Aristagoras, upon occasion of his entering on his Office of President or Governor of the Island of Tenedos; so that although it is placed among the Nemean Odes, it has no sort of relation to those Games, and is indeed properly an Inauguration-Ode, composed to be sung by a Chorus at the Sacrifices and the Feast made by Aristagoras and his Collegues, in the Town-Hall, at the Time of their being invested with the Magistracy, as is evident from many Expressions in the first Strophe and Antistrophe.

ARGUMENT.

Pindar opens this Ode with an Invocation to Vesta (the Goddess who presided over the Courts of Justice, and whose Statue and Altar were for that Reason placed in the Town-Halls, or Prytanæums, as the Greeks called them) beseeching her to receive favourably Aristagoras and his Collegues, who were then coming to offer Sacrifices to her, upon their entering on their Office of Prytans or Magistrates of Tenedos; which Office continuing for a Year, he begs the Goddess to take Aristagoras under her Protection during that Time; and to conduct him to the End of it without Trouble


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or Disgrace. From Aristagoras Pindar turns himself, in the next Place, to his Father Arcesilas, whom he pronounces happy, as well upon account of his Son's Merit and Honour, as upon his own great Endowments, and good Fortune; such as Beauty, Strength, Courage, Riches, and Glory resulting from his many Victories in the Games. But lest he should be too much puffed up with these Praises, he reminds him at the same Time of his Mortality, and tells him that his Cloathing of Flesh is perishable, and that he must e're long be cloathed with Earth, the End of all Things; and yet, continues he, it is but Justice to praise and celebrate the Worthy and Deserving, who from good Citizens ought to receive all kinds of Honour and Commendation; as Aristagoras, for Instance, who hath rendered both himself and his Country illustrious by the many Victories he hath obtained, to the Number of Sixteen, over the neighbouring Youth, in the Games exhibited in and about his own Country. From whence, says the Poet, I conclude he would have come off victorious even in the Pythian and Olympick Games, had he not been restrained from engaging in those famous Lists by the too timid and cautious Love of his Parents: upon which he falls into a moral Reflection upon the Vanity of Mens Hopes and Fears, by the former of which they are oftentimes excited to Attempts beyond their Strength, which accordingly issue in their Disgrace; as, on the other Hand, they are frequently restrained by unreasonable and ill-grounded Fears, from Enterprizes, in which they would, in all probability, have come off with Honour. This Reflection he applies to

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Aristagoras, by saying it was very easy to foresee what Success he was like to meet with, who both by Father and Mother was descended from a long Train of great and valiant Men. But here again, with a very artful Turn of Flattery to his Father Arcesilas, whom he had before represented as strong and valiant, and famous for his Victories in the Games, he observes that every Generation even of a great and glorious Family, is not equally illustrious, any more than the Fields and Trees are every Year equally fruitful; that the Gods had not given Mortals any certain Tokens, by which they might foreknow when the rich Years of Virtue should succeed; whence it comes to pass, that Men out of Self-conceit and Presumption, are perpetually laying Schemes, and forming Enterprizes, without previously consulting Prudence or Wisdom, whose Streams, says he, lye remote, and out of the common Road. From all which he infers, that it is better to moderate our Desires, and set bounds to our Avarice and Ambition; with which moral Precept he concludes the Ode.

STROPHE I.

Daughter of Rhea! thou, whose holy Fire
Before the awful Seat of Justice flames!
Sister of Heav'n's Almighty Sire!
Sister of Juno, who co-equal claims
With Jove to share the Empire of the Gods!
O Virgin Vesta! To thy dread Abodes,
Lo! Aristagoras directs his Pace!
Receive, and near thy sacred Scepter place

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Him, and his Collegues, who with honest Zeal
O'er Tenedos preside, and guard the Publick Weal.

ANTISTROPHE I.

And lo! with frequent Off'rings they adore
Thee, first invok'd in ev'ry solemn Pray'r!
To thee unmix'd Libations pour,
And fill with od'rous Fumes the fragrant Air.
Around in festive Songs the hymning Choir
Mix the melodious Voice and sounding Lyre.
While still, prolong'd with hospitable Love,
Are solemniz'd the Rites of Genial Jove:
Then guard him, Vesta, through his long Career,
And let him close in Joy his ministerial Year.

EPODE I.

But hail, Arcesilas! all hail
To Thee! bless'd Father of a Son so great!
Thou, whom on Fortune's highest Scale
The favourable Hand of Heav'n hath set,
Thy manly Form with Beauty hath refin'd,
And match'd that Beauty with a valiant Mind.

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Yet let not Man too much presume,
Tho' grac'd with Beauty's fairest Bloom;
Tho' for superior Strength renown'd;
Tho' with triumphal Chaplets crown'd:
Let him remember, that in Flesh array'd
Soon shall he see that mortal Vestment fade;
Till last imprison'd in the mould'ring Urn
To Earth, the End of all Things, he return.

STROPHE II.

Yet should the Worthy from the Publick Tongue
Receive their Recompence of virtuous Praise;
By ev'ry zealous Patriot sung,
And deck'd with ev'ry Flow'r of heav'nly Lays.
Such Retribution in return for Fame,
Such, Aristagoras, thy Virtues claim;
Claim from thy Country, on whose glorious Brows
The Wrestler's Chaplet still unfaded blows;
Mix'd with the great Pancratiastick Crown,
Which from the neighb'ring Youth thy early Valour won.

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ANTISTROPHE II.

And (but his timid Parents' cautious Love,
Distrusting ever his too forward Hand,
Forbade their tender Son to prove
The Toils of Pythia' or Olympia's Sand)
Now by the Gods I swear, his val'rous Might
Had 'scap'd victorious in each bloody Fight;
And from Castalia, or where dark with Shade
The Mount of Saturn rears its Olive-Head,
Great and illustrious home had he return'd;
While by his Fame eclips'd his vanquish'd Foes had mourn'd.

EPODE II.

Then his triumphal Tresses bound
With the dark Verdure of th'Olympick Grove,
With joyous Banquets had he crown'd
The great Quinquennial Festival of Jove;
And chear'd the solemn Pomp with Choral Lays,
Sweet Tribute, which the Muse to Virtue pays.
But, such is Man's prepost'rous Fate!
Now with o'er-weening Pride elate
Too far he aims his Shaft to throw,
And straining bursts his feeble Bow.

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Now pusillanimous, depress'd with Fear,
He checks his Virtue in the mid-Career;
And of his Strength distrustful coward flies
The Contest, tho' impow'r'd to gain the Prize.

STROPHE III.

But who could err in prophesying Good
Of Him, whose undegenerating Breast
Swells with a Tide of Spartan Blood,
From Sire to Sire in long Succession trac'd
Up to Pisander; who in Days of yore
From old Amyclæ to the Lesbian Shore
And Tenedos, collegu'd in high Command
With great Orestes, led th'Æolian Band?
Nor was his Mother's Race less strong and brave,
Sprung from a Stock that grew on fair Ismenus' Wave.

ANTISTROPHE III.

Tho' for long Intervals obscur'd, again
Oft-times the Seeds of lineal Worth appear.
For neither can the furrow'd Plain
Full Harvests yield with each returning Year:
Nor in each Period, will the pregnant Bloom
Invest the smiling Tree with rich Perfume.
So, barren often and inglorious pass
The Generations of a noble Race;

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While Nature's Vigour, working at the Root,
In After-ages swells, and blossoms into Fruit.

EPODE III.

Nor hath Jove giv'n us to foreknow
When the rich Years of Virtue shall succeed;
Yet bold and daring on we go,
Contriving Schemes of many a mighty Deed.
While Hope, fond Inmate of the human Mind,
And Self-Opinion, active, rash, and blind,
Hold up a false illusive Ray,
That leads our dazzled Feet astray
Far from the Springs, where calm and slow
The secret Streams of Wisdom flow.
Hence should we learn our Ardour to restrain:
And limit to due Bounds the Thirst of Gain.
To Rage and Madness oft that Passion turns,
Which with forbidden Flames despairing burns.