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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 | Odes of Pindar |  |
[ISTHMIAN ODES]
THE SECOND ISTHMIAN ODE.
[_]
This Ode was written upon occasion of a Victory
obtained in the Chariot-Race by Xenocrates of
Agrigentum in the Isthmian Games; it is however
addressed not to Xenocrates himself, but to his Son
Thrasybulus; from whence, and from Pindar's always
speaking of Xenocrates in the Perfect Tense,
it is most probable it was written after the Death
of Xenocrates; and for this Reason it has by some
been reckoned among the θρηνοι or Elegies of Pindar.
This Ode was written upon occasion of a Victory obtained in the Chariot-Race by Xenocrates of Agrigentum in the Isthmian Games; it is however addressed not to Xenocrates himself, but to his Son Thrasybulus; from whence, and from Pindar's always speaking of Xenocrates in the Perfect Tense, it is most probable it was written after the Death of Xenocrates; and for this Reason it has by some been reckoned among the θρηνοι or Elegies of Pindar.
ARGUMENT.
The Introduction contains a Sort of an Apology for a Poet's
taking Money for his Compositions; a thing, says Pindar,
not practised formerly by the Servants of the Muses, who
drew their Inspiration from Love alone, and wrote only from
the Heart: but as the World is grown interested, so are the
Poets become mercenary, observing the Truth of that famous
Saying of Aristodemus the Spartan, Money makes
the Man: a Truth, he says, which he himself experienced,
having with his Riches lost all his Friends; and of this
Truth, continues Pindar, you, Thrasybulus, are not ignorant,
for you are a wise Man: I shall therefore say no more
STROPHE I.
They, Thrasybulus, who in ancient DaysTriumphant mounted in the Muses' Carr,
Tuning their Harps to soft and tender Lays,
Aim'd their sweet Numbers at the Young and Fair:
Whose Beauties, ripe for Love, with rapt'rous Fires
Their wanton Hearts inflam'd and waken'd strong Desires.
ANTISTROPHE I.
As yet the Muse, despising sordid Gain,Strung not for Gold her mercenary Lyre:
Nor did Terpsichore adorn her Strain
In gilded Courtesy and gay Attire,
With fair Appearances to move the Heart,
And recommend to Sale her prostituted Art.
EPODE I.
But now she suffers all her tuneful TrainFar other Principles to hold;
And with the Spartan Sage maintain,
That Man is worthless without Gold.
Deserted in his Need by those he lov'd.
No longer therefore shall the Muse delay
To sing the rapid Steeds, and Isthmian Crown,
Which the great Monarch of the briny Flood
On lov'd Xenocrates bestow'd,
His gen'rous Cares with Honour to repay.
STROPHE II.
Him too, his Agrigentum's brightest Star,Latona's Son with favourable Eyes
At Crisa view'd, and bless'd his conqu'ring Carr;
Nor, when, contending for the noble Prize,
Nicomachus, on Athens' craggy Plain,
With dextrous Art controll'd the Chariot-steering Rein.
ANTISTROPHE II.
Did Phœbus blame the Driver's skilful Hand;But with Athenian Palms his Master grac'd:
His Master, greeted in th'Olympick Sand;
And evermore with grateful Zeal embrac'd
Th'Elean Feasts of Jove, and Pisa's sacred Games.
EPODE II.
Him, on the Golden Lap of VictoryReclining his illustrious Head,
They hail'd with sweetest Melody;
And through the Land his Glory spread,
Thro' the fam'd Altis of Olympick Jove;
Where in the Honours of the sacred Grove
The Children of Ænesidamus shar'd;
For not unknown to Victory and Praise
Oft, Thrasybulus, hath thy Mansion heard
The pleasing Concerts of the youthful Choir,
Attemper'd to the warbling Lyre,
And the sweet Mixture of triumphal Lays.
STROPHE III.
In smooth and flow'ry Paths th'Encomiast treads,When to the Mansions of the Good and Great
In Pomp the Nymphs of Helicon he leads:
Yet thee, Xenocrates, to celebrate,
Thy all-surpassing Gentleness to sing
In equal Strains, requires an all-surpassing String.
ANTISTROPHE III.
To all benevolent, rever'd, belov'd,In ev'ry social Virtue he excell'd;
And with his conqu'ring Steeds at Corinth prov'd;
How sacred the Decrees of Greece he held;
With equal Zeal th'Immortals he ador'd,
And spread with frequent Feasts his consecrated Board.
EPODE III.
Nor did he e'er when rose a stormy GaleRelax his hospitable Course,
Or gather in his swelling Sail:
But finding ever some Resource
Held on with equal Pace his constant Way.
Permit not then thro' Dread of envious Tongues,
Thy Father's Worth to be in Silence lost;
Nor from the Publick keep these choral Songs.
Not in one Corner is the Poet's Strain
Form'd, like a Statue, to remain,
This, Nicasippus, tell my honour'd Host.
| Odes of Pindar | |