The poetical works of Sir William Jones :: :: University of Virginia Library

THE FIRST NEMEAN ODE OF PINDAR.

I.

1.

Calm breathing-place of Alpheus dead
Ortygia, graceful branch of Syracuse renown'd,
Young Dina's rosy bed,
Sister of Delos, thee, with sweet, yet lofty, sound
Bursting numbers call, to raise
Of tempest-footed steeds the trophies glorious
(Thus Etnean Jove we praise;)
While Chromius' car invites, and Nemea's plain
For noble acts victorious
To weave th'encomiastic strain.

2.

From prosp'ring Gods the song begins:
Next hails that godlike man and virtue's holy meeds:
He the flow'r of greatness wins,
Whom smiling fortune crowns; and vast heroic deeds
Ev'ry muse delights to sing.
Now wake to that fair isle the splendid story,
Which the great Olympian king,
Jove, gave to Proserpine, and wav'd his locks,
Vowing, that, supreme in glory,
Fam'd for sweet fruits, and nymph'd-lov'd rocks,

3.

Sicilia's full nutritious breast
With tow'r'd and wealthy cities he would crown.
Her the son of Saturn bless'd
With suitors brazen-arm'd for war's renown
By lance and fiery steed; yet oft thy leaves,
Olympic olive! bind their hair
In wreathy gold. Great subjects I prepare;
But none th'immortal verse deceives.

II.

1.

Oft in the portals was I plac'd
Of that guest-loving man, and pour'd the dulcet strain,
Where becoming dainties grac'd
His hospitable hoard: for ne'er with efforts vain
Strangers to his mansion came:
And thus the virtuous, when detraction rages,
Quench with lib'ral streams her flame.
Let each in virtue's path right onward press,
As each his art engages,
And, urg'd by genius, win success.

2.

Laborious action strength applies,
And wary conduct, Sense: the future to foresee
Nature gives to few, the wise.
Agesidamus' son, she frankly gave to thee
Pow'rful might and wisdom deep.
I see not in dark cells the hoarded treasure
Grov'ling with low care to keep,
But, as wealth flows, to spread it, and to hear
Loud fame, with ample measure
Cheering my friends, since hope and fear

3.

Assail disastrous men. The praise
Of Hercules with rapture I embrace:
On the heights, which virtues raise,
The rapid legend old his name shall place;
For, when he brook'd no more the cheerless gloom,
And burst into the blaze of day,
The child of Jove with his twin-brother lay,
Refulgent from the sacred womb.

III.

1.

Not unobserv'd the godlike boy
By Juno golden-thron'd the saffron'd cradle press'd;
Straight heav'n's queen with furious joy
Bade hideous dragons fleet th'unguarded floor infest:
They, the portals op'ning wide,
Roll'd through the chamber's broad recess tremendous,
And in Jaws fire-darting tried
The slumb'ring babe to close. He, starting light,
Rear'd his bold head stupendous,
And first in battle prov'd his might.

2.

With both resistless hands he clasp'd
Both struggling horrid pests, and cloth'd their necks with death;
They expiring, as he grasp'd,
Pour'd from their throats compress'd the foul envenom'd breath.
Horror seiz'd the female train,
Who near Alcmena's genial couch attended:
She, from agonizing pain
Yet weak, unsandal'd and unmantled rush'd,
And her lov'd charge defended,
Whilst he the fiery monsters crush'd.

3.

Swift the Cadmean leaders ran
In brazen mail precipitately bold:
First Amphitryon, dauntless man,
Bar'd his rais'd falchion from its sheathing gold,
While grinding anguish pierc'd his flutt'ring breast;
For private woes most keenly bite
Self-loving man; but soon the heart is light,
With sorrow not its own oppress'd.

IV.

1.

Standing in deep amazement wild
With rapt'rous pleasure mix'd, he saw th'enormous force,
Saw the valour of his child:
And fated heralds prompt, as heav'n had shap'd their course,
Wafted round the varied tale:
Then call'd he from high Jove's contiguous region,
Him, whose warnings never fail,
Tiresias blind, who told, in diction sage,
The chief and thronging legion
What fortunes must his boy engage;

2.

What lawless tyrants of the wood,
What serpents he would slay, what monsters of the main,
What proud foe to human good,
The worst of monstrous forms, that holy manhood stain,
His huge arm to death would dash:
How, when heav'n's host, o'er Phlegra's champaign hasting,
With embattled giants rash
Vindictive warr'd, his pond'rous mace would storm
With dreadful strokes wide-wasting,
And dust their glitt'ring locks deform,

3.

He told; and how in blissful peace
Through cycles infinite of gliding time,
When his mortal task should cease,
Sweet prize of perils hard and toil sublime,
In gorgeous mansions he should hold entranc'd
Soft Hebe, fresh with blooming grace,
And crown, exalting his majestic race,
The bridal feast near Jove advanc'd.

This Ode is translated word for word with the original; those epithets and phrases only being necessarily added which are printed in italic letters. See Argument of the Hymns to Pacriti.