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121
ODES OF PINDAR.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK.
THE FOURTH OLYMPIC ODE.
Strophe I.
Great Jove, whose thunder thro' the skiesWith force and speed unwearied flies:—
—For 'tis to Jove the hours belong,
Which roll around the mighty days,
These days that claim the sounding song,
Sacred to Psaumis' deathless praise:
Immortal are the hero's deeds;
And when a friend's brave toil succeeds,
The tale great souls with joy receive,
And due encomiums gladly give.—
Thou then, great Saturn's greater son,
On Ætna who hast fix'd thy throne;
Where, hundred-headed Typhon prest,
Groans, the hot mountain on his breast:
The choral hymns, whose varied lays
Sing the olympic victor's praise,
And give to virtue, nobly bright,
Eternal lustre, life and light;
Auspicious hear, for Psaumis' sake;
They want not Grace,—his fame they speak.
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Antistrophe I.
Lo! in his car they cross the plains,Where, crown'd with olive, he obtains
Oh Camarina, for thy state
Immortal honours, deathless fame!
Still, still, propitious, kindly fate,
In all be his success the same!
For well I know him wise and good,
Skill'd to train up the courser's brood:
Nor does of friends a narrow round
His hospitable kindness bound;
Wide his benevolence extends,
And all mankind are styl'd his friends:
And where, of all the patriot train,
His country's glory's to maintain,
Where will another chief appear,
With heart so warm, and soul so clear?
—Truth speaks; the muse's sacred verse
Disdains false praises to rehearse;
Experience proves the truth she sings,
At once the test of men and things.
Epode.
By this the taunts of Lemnos' haughty damesThe warlike son of Clymenus disprov'd;
Who, when contending at the glorious games,
Swift to the goal before his peers he mov'd,
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To Thoas' daughter thus begun:
“Behold the man whose untried speed you scorn'd,
“Till by that speed victorious he return'd:
“And know, this hand can equal deeds perform,
“And know, with equal fire this heart is warm:
“Grey hairs may oft the youthful head bestrew,
“But grace they add, and wisdom to the brow.”
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THE SIXTH OLYMPIC ODE.
Strophe I.
Whose ample soul a glorious fabric rears,First to the gorgeous front directs his care:
Nor art, nor cost, nor gold, nor sculpture spares,
To give the portico the noblest air:
That thence the eye enlarg'd, his splendid dome
May raptur'd with ideal wonder roam.
So, muse, preparing deathless songs to sound
On themes, which well those deathless songs may claim,
With grandest grace be our beginning crown'd,
Be from the first bright spark conceiv'd the flame!
Were there a man whose happy lot bestow'd
In rich Sicilia's plains a fair abode;
Who shone at glorious Pisa doubly blest,
Th' olympic victor, and the thunderer's priest:
Untouch'd by envy's hate or slander's tongue,
How just were fame like his, how form'd such fame for song!
Antistrophe I.
Such fame, great son of Sostratus, is thine,And lo, my muse, that hero is thy theme:—
Virtue unexercised can never shine,
It tempts no dangers, and shall find no fame:
But who, like thee, Agesias, dare be great,
Shall share thy glory, and enjoy thy fate!
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Which brave Adrastus to the prophet gave
Whom Jove belov'd; and, to preserve from wrongs,
Commanded earth wide-gaping to receive:
His friend's lov'd corse Adrastus sought in vain
At Thebes' seven-fold funeral to obtain;
And therefore thus with praise embalm'd the dead;
“Where is my light, my guide, my glory fled?
“Alas, my soldiers, how our loss I moan,
“The wisest prophet dead, the bravest warrior gone!”
Epode I.
Such, mighty hero of my lays,Such are thy gifts, and such thy praise!
I scorn the forms of mean dispute,
I scorn to cavil and confute:
All end of strife this oath shall bring.
Dread witness to the truths I sing;
I swear these gifts of right to thee belong,
And every muse permits the oath, and all confirm the song.
Strophe II.
Come then, my soul, bright charioteer,The mules, victorious to the car
Join quick, that while we cross the plain,
Our labour's summit we may gain:
And all triumphant mount the place,
Where shine the hero's god-born race:
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The road no coursers know like them:
That road they trod, when late they won,
At Pisa's race, the glorious crown:
Lift up your heads ye gates for these: your heads triumphant raise;
That they may trace the spacious plain of great Agesias' praise!
Antistrophe II.
Strait then to fair Eurotas' flood,We'll sweep along the sounding road.
Fair Pitana Eurotas bore
Saturnian Neptune's paramour.
He, as immortal tales declare,
With bright Evadne fill'd the fair:
Her stolen joys the maid conceal'd
Till the great months were all fulfill'd;
In secret then a mother made,
Her babe she privately convey'd
To Æpytus, Arcadia's king, its foster-sire to prove:
Where Phœbus pluck'd her virgin rose, and taught Evadne love!
Epode II.
From Æpytus in vain she stroveTo hide the produce of her love:
His soul with rage and anguish fraught,
The Pythian god the monarch sought;
There to dislodge his mighty grief,
And from Apollo find relief.
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And in a secret grove brought forth a soul-enlighten'd son!
Strophe III.
Hecate and the fates consentingTo Apollo's fond request,
All the mother's pangs preventing,
With the darling offspring bless'd.
But her heart deep anguish tearing,
Virtue's blooming blossom gone;
Thence she flew, detection fearing,
On the ground she left her son!
The babe deserted thus, to tend
Neptune and Sol two dragons send:
Their charge to feed the bee they spoil,
And well discharge th' appointed toil.
Antistrophe III.
Homeward Æpytus repairing,Claims from his domestic throng
Fair Evadne's son, declaring
Him from sage Apollo sprung:
Prophecy's bright gift possessing,
Sight to pierce the rolls of fate;
A perpetual lineage blessing
With descendents wise and great!
Such, with enthusiastic joy,
The prince proclaim'd the god-born boy:
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What none had heard of, none had seen.
Epode III.
For Apollo five times his bright journey renew'dWhile the babe lay conceal'd on a violet bed;
Where each sweetest flower's choice fragrance bedew'd
His tender limbs nightly in open air lay'd.
But when manhood, gaily blooming,
Spread his roseat cheeks with down;
On his birth divine presuming,
He to Alpheus' stream hastes down:
There, midst the silence of the night,
To Neptune, and the god of light;
Their son imploring bow'd:
“Oh dignify, my sires, your race,
“Be worthy of my birth some grace,
“Some glorious boon bestow'd!”
Strophe IV.
Scarce thus the god-born suppliant sighs,Or ere his father's voice replies:
—“Arise my son, and let us trace
“That great, that glory-destin'd place,
“Where future triumphs Greece shall share;
“Arise my son—and hasten there.”
Speaking he led to Chronion's cloud-capt brow,
And there with light divine illum'd his soul:
A two-fold power dark fate's decrees to view
He gave: and instant thro' his bosom roll,
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And mystic truths declare the present god!
But when in future days Alcides came,
Dread-doing hero, and ordain'd to Jove,
In wide Olympia's plains, the festal game,
With rites bespeaking gratitude and love:
The favor'd seer then found his gifts complete,
From entrails, and the hallow'd fire
He read the book of fate!
Antistrophe IV.
So will'd the god: and thus thro' GreeceOf Jamus, the happy race
For rare felicity were sung:
Honour rewards fair virtues throng:
Who tread her paths, bright glory's fane
Shall reach: his actions prove the man!
Pale envy's poison taints each noble deed:
Lo; not even they the vile enchantress shun
On whom true glory's fost'ring dews are shed,
In great Olympia's course the contest won!
'Tis so: thy mother's ancestors bestow'd
Due rites, Agesias, on the herald god:
Beneath Cyllene's hoary brow well pleas'd,
Hermes beheld their warm religious zeal:
Hermes of contests holy umpire made,
The kindly guardian of Arcadia's weal:
And grateful by his sire, the thunderer's aid,
Thee with so perfect happiness repaid!
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Epode IV.
I catch the bright flame, and am warm'd with the song!Thy praises inspire me to chant forth my own:
From Thebes, from Metopa, from great Ladon sprung,
I boast my descent, and I claim my renown:
There, thrice-happy bard, reclining,
Themes divine engage my lays:
Heroes brows immortal binding
With gay wreaths of blooming praise.
Haste then, and rouse the choral throng,
Æneas, haste—and be the song,
With Juno's name begun!
And let who hear my lays consess,
That his Bœotia's old disgrace
Great Pindar's numbers shun!
Strophe V.
Thou art a man the muses love,And in their councils hold'st the highest place:
Declaring thence what they approve,
Thou shed'st on favor'd bards their choicest grace:
Turn then—remind the grateful muse
To sing of beauteous Syracuse,
To speak renown'd Ortygia's praise,
Where Hiero the sceptre sways;
The rock of justice bears his throne,
Religion's jewels grace his crown;
Behold what glorious structures rise,
For that dread power, who rules the skies,
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Behold—for him and let those structures speak!
Antistrophe V.
Already the exulting lyreThe hero's glorious praises has enjoy'd:
Still vibrates every sweet-tun'd wire,
For each his name has known, his fame employ'd:
Oh may no future times decrease
The round of his consummate bliss!
May he with wonted favour view
The hymn to brave Agesias due;
Who from maternal climes removes
Arcadia's meads, and peaceful groves;
In Sicily's blest realms to trace
His father's, and a nobler race.
'Tis well, when nightly tempests roar,
The ship with double anchors to secure.
Epode the last.
May heav'n's wide favour to each realm encreaseTheir chosen lot of happiness and peace:
And oh dread ruler of the boundless sea,
Whose voice the tempest hears, the waves obey:
Thro' life's rough waves Agesias safely steer,
From storms protected, and from quick-sands clear:
With winds propitious swell his happy sails!
And as my songs fame's ocean cross,
Croud glory's favouring gales!
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THE SEVENTH PYTHIAN ODE.
Strophe I.
So nobly whence deduce the song,Sacred to Megacles' renown,
A chief from great Alcmæon sprung,
As from Minerva's mighty town?
Since where a family so great,
Thro' Grecia's realms is found;
And where so truly fam'd a state,
Thro' earth's capacious round?
Antistrophe I.
Athens, thy fame to all is known,Thy sons by all are prais'd,
Who, Phœbus, by mad foes o'erthrown,
Thy hallow'd temple rais'd:
And, Megacles, to sound thy fame,
Those conquests urge me on,
By thee, at every glorious game,
And thy forefathers won.
Epode
Even five Corinthian palms obtain'd,And one at great Olympus gain'd;
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Your late success I gladly hail,
Yet mourn that envy should prevail,
O'er fame and men like you.
Yet trust, your bliss is more secure,
Your fortune's column stands more sure,
Round which some winds have blown,
Than that to heaven its head which rears,
And tempests unmolesting dares,
Which blow!—and 'tis o'erthrown!
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THE NINTH PYTHIAN ODE.
Strophe I.
Glowing bright with shield of brass,Victorious in the Pythian race;
Great Telesicrates his praise,
My soul delights to sound in noblest lays.
Ye Graces aid your poet's song,
And boldly bear the strain along.
Spread, spread the bliss, the glory wide,
Of brave Cyrene's garland and her pride.
From Pelion's mount where winds perpetual roar,
Bright-hair'd Apollo fair Cyrene bore
To those blest realms, where flocks in thousands stray,
And fullest plenty crowns the smiling plain:
In golden car he bore the nymph away,
And gave her o'er the world's third part to reign.
Antistrophe I.
Bright Venus, goddess of the fair,Who holds her courts and revels there;
Smiling receiv'd her Delian guest,
And breath'd soft love thro' each enamour'd breast.
While modesty, sweet blushing, spread
The happy love-expecting bed;
Where glad Apollo's glowing arms
Might clasp Hypsæus' blooming daughter's charms.
From Ocean's monarch was Hypsæus sprung,
King of the Lapithæ, a warlike throng:
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Who dalliance with fair Crëusa held
In Pindus' vale, where he the virgin won,
And with Cyrene's god-like father fill'd.
Epode I.
That father, with industrious care,Each female virtue taught the fair:
But she—a nobler task approving,
Scorn'd the loom's enervate toys:
Far from female trains removing,
Talking banquets, lazy joys:
With the bow, the quiver arming,
To the field triumphant flew;
Where the savage race alarming,
These her darts unerring slew:
O'er the hills Aurora rising,
E'er equipp'd the maid beheld;
Sleep's emollient bliss despising,
Early hast'ning to the field:
No hostile beasts her father's realms annoy'd,
She clear'd each forest, and each foe destroy'd.
Strophe II.
Once, without help of dart or spear,Maintaining an unequal war;
Phœbus on Pelion's top survey'd
Engag'd with lion fierce the lovely maid!
Strait Chiron, call'd he, from his cave,
Phyllirides, thy bower leave;
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To view the triumphs of a female power.
View with what courage she maintains the fight,
While her great spririt soars beyond her might;
She knows not fear:—relate her happy sire,
What root its birth to branch so glorious gave?
What mortal to the honour may aspire,
Of daughter so undaunted, fair, and brave?
Antistrophe II.
On the virgin, Chiron, say,May we soft compulsion lay;
Gently force her to our arms,
And crop her virgin flower, and full-blown charms?
Soften'd to smiles his features grave,
This answer sober Chiron gave;
Who love's purer flames would share,
By sweet persuasion steal upon the fair;
And with fond elegance of passion move,
The yielding fair one to a virtuous love:
In modest hints first sighing out their flame,
And delicate alike, tho' bolder grown:
For gods and men hate those who know not shame,
But shock the ear with ribbald lewdness' tone.
Epode II.
But thou, of truth great Deity,Whose proving touch all falshoods fly:
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Thee hath led to this request:
Art thou gracious, thou enquiring,
Whence descends this maiden blest?
Thou, who all events art knowing,
Every path that mortals tread;
Whence their several fates are flowing,
Where their several actions lead:
Whose is wisdom past expressing,
Knowledge past our power to tell:
Sooner count we earth's encreasing,
When her pregnant bowels swell:
Sooner, when waves roll rough, and tempests roar,
Number the sands that raging croud the shore.
Strophe III.
All things are open to thine eyes,Both where they flow, and whence they rise:
Yet if, with one so wise and great,
'Tis granted me, dread king, myself to meet;
Hear what the Centaur hath to tell:
Destin'd the maid's, thou sought'st this vale;
Hither thou cam'st, her love to share,
And to Jove's gardens o'er the seas to bear.
Thither thy people from their isle shall tend,
And to the vale-surrounded hill ascend;
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Now for thy sake glad Lybia to the fair,
In golden domes reception waits to give:
And yield her of her spacious empire share.
Antistrophe III.
There shall they rule, their laws the same,And joint command, and empire claim;
O'er realms for noblest beasts renown'd,
O'er fields with fruits and fullest plenty crown'd.
There with a son shall she be blest,
Whom, carried from his mother's breast,
The golden-throned hours shall join
With mother earth to nurse, and make divine:
Hermes to them shall bear Apollo's race,
And on their laps the smiling infant place:
His rosy lips the well-pleas'd nymphs shall bless,
With nectar and ambrosia, heavenly food;
Which, to his fires and grandsires place shall raise,
And make of men's delight, the man, a god.
Epode III.
The fields, the flocks, his care shall claim,And Aristæus be his name.”
—Speaking thus, to consummation,
Chiron instigates the god;
Swift is each immortal action;
Swift the flight, and short the road:
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Lybia strait received the pair:
Both the golden bed ascended,
Blest, and both immortal there;
There her beauteous city guarding,
Fair Cyrene ever smiles.
Her Carneans still rewarding,
In the Pythian's sacred toils.
Thrice blest Carnean, whose renown can give
Fame to those realms, whence all their fame receive!
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