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APPENDIX OF RHYMED CHORAL ODES AND LYRICAL DIALOGUES.
431
668–718.
Stroph. I.
Yes, thou art come, O guest,
Where our dear land is brightest of the bright,
Land in its good steeds blest,
Our home, Colonos, gleaming fair and white;
The nightingale still haunteth all our woods
Green with the flush of spring,
And sweet melodious floods
Of softest song through grove and thicket ring;
She dwelleth in the shade
Of glossy ivy, dark as purpling wine,
And the untrodden glade
Of trees that hang their myriad fruit divine,
Unscathed by blast of storm;
Here Dionysos finds his dear-loved home,
Here, revel-flushed, his form
Is wont with those his fair nurse-nymphs to roam.
Antistroph. I.
Where our dear land is brightest of the bright,
Land in its good steeds blest,
Our home, Colonos, gleaming fair and white;
The nightingale still haunteth all our woods
Green with the flush of spring,
And sweet melodious floods
Of softest song through grove and thicket ring;
She dwelleth in the shade
Of glossy ivy, dark as purpling wine,
And the untrodden glade
Of trees that hang their myriad fruit divine,
Unscathed by blast of storm;
Here Dionysos finds his dear-loved home,
Here, revel-flushed, his form
Is wont with those his fair nurse-nymphs to roam.
Here, as Heaven drops its dew,
Narcissus grows with fair bells clustered o'er,
Wreath to the Dread Ones due,
The Mighty Goddesses whom we adore;
And here is seen the crocus, golden-eyed;
The sleepless streams ne'er fail;
Still wandering on they glide,
And clear Kephisos waters all the vale;
Daily each night and morn
It winds through all the wide and fair champaign,
And pours its flood new-born
From the clear freshets of the fallen rain;
The Muses scorn it not,
But here, rejoicing, their high feast-days hold,
And here, in this blest spot,
Dwells Aphrodite in her car of gold.
Stroph. II.
Narcissus grows with fair bells clustered o'er,
Wreath to the Dread Ones due,
The Mighty Goddesses whom we adore;
And here is seen the crocus, golden-eyed;
The sleepless streams ne'er fail;
Still wandering on they glide,
And clear Kephisos waters all the vale;
432
It winds through all the wide and fair champaign,
And pours its flood new-born
From the clear freshets of the fallen rain;
The Muses scorn it not,
But here, rejoicing, their high feast-days hold,
And here, in this blest spot,
Dwells Aphrodite in her car of gold.
And here hath grown long while
A marvel and a wonder such as ne'er
I heard of otherwhere,—
Nor in great Asia's land nor Dorian Isle
That Pelops owned as his;
Full great this marvel is,—
A plant unfailing, native to the place,
Terror to every sword
Of fierce invading horde,
The grey-green Olive, rearing numerous race,
Which none or young or old
Shall smite in pride o'erbold;
For still the orb of Zeus that all things sees
Looks on it from on high,
Zeus, the great guardian of our olive-trees,
And she, Athena, with grey gleaming eye.
Antistroph. II.
A marvel and a wonder such as ne'er
I heard of otherwhere,—
Nor in great Asia's land nor Dorian Isle
That Pelops owned as his;
Full great this marvel is,—
A plant unfailing, native to the place,
Terror to every sword
Of fierce invading horde,
The grey-green Olive, rearing numerous race,
Which none or young or old
Shall smite in pride o'erbold;
For still the orb of Zeus that all things sees
Looks on it from on high,
Zeus, the great guardian of our olive-trees,
And she, Athena, with grey gleaming eye.
And yet another praise,
The chiefest boast of this our mother state,
My tongue must now relate,
The gift of that great God who ocean sways;—
Of this our native ground
The greatest glory found,
Its goodly steeds and goodly colts I sing,
And, goodly too, its sea;
O Son of Cronos, Thee
We own, Thou great Poseidon, Lord and King,
For thou hast made it ours
To boast these wondrous dowers,
First in our city did'st first on horses fleet
Place the subduing bit;
And through the sea the oars well-handled flit,
Following the Nereids with their hundred feet!
The chiefest boast of this our mother state,
My tongue must now relate,
The gift of that great God who ocean sways;—
Of this our native ground
The greatest glory found,
433
And, goodly too, its sea;
O Son of Cronos, Thee
We own, Thou great Poseidon, Lord and King,
For thou hast made it ours
To boast these wondrous dowers,
First in our city did'st first on horses fleet
Place the subduing bit;
And through the sea the oars well-handled flit,
Following the Nereids with their hundred feet!
1044–1095.
Stroph. I.
Fain would I be where meet,
In brazen-throated war,
The rush of foes who wheel in onset fleet,
Or by the Pythian shore,
Or where the waving torches gleam afar,
Where the Dread Powers watch o'er
Their mystic rites for men that mortal are,
E'en they whose golden key
Hath touched the tongue of priests, Eumolpidæ:
There, there, I deem, our Theseus leads the fight,
And those two sisters, dauntless, undismayed,
Will meet, with eager clamour of delight
That nothing leaves unsaid,
Where through these lands they tread.
Antistroph. I.
In brazen-throated war,
The rush of foes who wheel in onset fleet,
Or by the Pythian shore,
Or where the waving torches gleam afar,
Where the Dread Powers watch o'er
Their mystic rites for men that mortal are,
E'en they whose golden key
Hath touched the tongue of priests, Eumolpidæ:
There, there, I deem, our Theseus leads the fight,
And those two sisters, dauntless, undismayed,
Will meet, with eager clamour of delight
That nothing leaves unsaid,
Where through these lands they tread.
Or do they now, perchance,
On to the western slope
Of old Œatis' snowy crest advance,
Hastening on swiftest steed,
Or in swift chariots each with other cope?
Now will be spoil indeed:
Dread is their might who form our country's hope,
And dread the strength of those
Whom Theseus leads to triumph o'er their foes.
Each bit is glittering, all the squadrons speed;
Shaking their reins, they urge their horses on,
E'en they who serve Athena on her steed,
Or Rhea's ocean Son,
Who makes the earth his throne.
Stroph. II.
On to the western slope
Of old Œatis' snowy crest advance,
Hastening on swiftest steed,
434
Now will be spoil indeed:
Dread is their might who form our country's hope,
And dread the strength of those
Whom Theseus leads to triumph o'er their foes.
Each bit is glittering, all the squadrons speed;
Shaking their reins, they urge their horses on,
E'en they who serve Athena on her steed,
Or Rhea's ocean Son,
Who makes the earth his throne.
Act they, or linger still?
Ah, how my soul forecasts the coming fate,
That he, against his will,
Will yield the maid whose daring has been great,
Who hath borne greatest ill
From hands of her own kin; but, soon or late,
Zeus works to-day great things:
I prophesy of glorious victories.
Ah! would that I on wings,
Swift as a dove on airy cloud that flies,
Might glad my longing eye
With sight of that much yearned-for victory!
Antistroph. II.
Ah, how my soul forecasts the coming fate,
That he, against his will,
Will yield the maid whose daring has been great,
Who hath borne greatest ill
From hands of her own kin; but, soon or late,
Zeus works to-day great things:
I prophesy of glorious victories.
Ah! would that I on wings,
Swift as a dove on airy cloud that flies,
Might glad my longing eye
With sight of that much yearned-for victory!
O Zeus! that reign'st on high,
All-seeing, grant the rulers of our land,
In strength of victory,
With good success in ambush there to stand;
And Thou, his child revered,
Athena Pallas; Thou, the huntsman-God,
Apollo, loved and feared.
And she, thy sister, who the woods hath trod
Following the dappled deer
Swift-footed; lo! on each of you I call,—
Come, bringing succour near
To this our land, and to its people all.
All-seeing, grant the rulers of our land,
In strength of victory,
With good success in ambush there to stand;
And Thou, his child revered,
Athena Pallas; Thou, the huntsman-God,
Apollo, loved and feared.
And she, thy sister, who the woods hath trod
435
Swift-footed; lo! on each of you I call,—
Come, bringing succour near
To this our land, and to its people all.
1211–1248.
Strophe.
One whose desire is strong
For length of days,
Who slights the middle path,
True path of praise;
He in my eyes shall seem
Mere dreamer vain;
For ofttimes length of days
Brings nought but pain;
And joys—thou can'st not now
Their dwelling guess,
When once a man gives way
To hope's excess;
At last the helper comes
That comes to all,
When Hades' doom appears
And dark shades fall;
Lyreless and songless then,
No wedding guest,
Death comes to work the end,
Death, last and best.
Antistrophe.
For length of days,
Who slights the middle path,
True path of praise;
He in my eyes shall seem
Mere dreamer vain;
For ofttimes length of days
Brings nought but pain;
And joys—thou can'st not now
Their dwelling guess,
When once a man gives way
To hope's excess;
At last the helper comes
That comes to all,
When Hades' doom appears
And dark shades fall;
Lyreless and songless then,
No wedding guest,
Death comes to work the end,
Death, last and best.
Never to be at all,
Excels all fame;
Quickly, next best, to pass
From whence we came.
When youth hath passed away,
With follies vain,
Who then is free from cares?
Where is not pain?
Murders and strifes and wars,
Envy and hate;
Then, evil worst of all,
The old man's fate:
Powerless and wayward then,
No friend to cheer,—
All ills on ills are met,
All dwelling there.
Epode.
Excels all fame;
Quickly, next best, to pass
From whence we came.
436
With follies vain,
Who then is free from cares?
Where is not pain?
Murders and strifes and wars,
Envy and hate;
Then, evil worst of all,
The old man's fate:
Powerless and wayward then,
No friend to cheer,—
All ills on ills are met,
All dwelling there.
Thus this poor sufferer lives,
Not I alone;
As on far northern coast
Wild waters moan,
So without rest or hope,
Woes round him swarm,
Dread as the waves that rage,
Dark as the storm,—
Some from the far, far west
Where sunsets glow;
Some where through eastern skies
Dawn's bright rays flow;
These where the burning south
Feels the hot light,
Those where Rhipæan hills
Rise in dark night.
Not I alone;
As on far northern coast
Wild waters moan,
So without rest or hope,
Woes round him swarm,
Dread as the waves that rage,
Dark as the storm,—
Some from the far, far west
Where sunsets glow;
Some where through eastern skies
Dawn's bright rays flow;
These where the burning south
Feels the hot light,
Those where Rhipæan hills
Rise in dark night.
1447–1456.
Strophe.
New sorrows throng on me,
From new source come,
New evils from this blind man's misery,
This stranger to our home;
Unless it be that Destiny has brought
What shall at last prevail;
For lo! I dare not say that any thought
Of the high Gods shall fail.
Time ever sees these things, beholds them all,
Bringing full round his wheel,
Upraising in a day the things that fall:—
O Zeus! that thunder-peal!
From new source come,
437
This stranger to our home;
Unless it be that Destiny has brought
What shall at last prevail;
For lo! I dare not say that any thought
Of the high Gods shall fail.
Time ever sees these things, beholds them all,
Bringing full round his wheel,
Upraising in a day the things that fall:—
O Zeus! that thunder-peal!
1463–1471.
Antistrophe.
Lo! the loud thunder sweeps,
Heaven-sent and dread;
And panic terror through each white hair creeps
That crowns my aged head;
I shudder in my soul, for yet again
The flashing lightning gleams.
What shall I say? What issue will it gain?
Fear fills my waking dreams;
For not in vain do all these portents rise,
Nor void of end foreknown;
O flashing fire that blazest through the skies!
O Zeus, the Almighty One!
Heaven-sent and dread;
And panic terror through each white hair creeps
That crowns my aged head;
I shudder in my soul, for yet again
The flashing lightning gleams.
What shall I say? What issue will it gain?
Fear fills my waking dreams;
For not in vain do all these portents rise,
Nor void of end foreknown;
O flashing fire that blazest through the skies!
O Zeus, the Almighty One!
1477–1485.
Strophe.
Ah me! ah me! again
Resounds the crash that pierces in its might:
Be pitiful, be pitiful, O God!
If aught thou bringest black and dark as night,
To this our mother earth:
Yea, may I still find favour in thy sight
Nor gain boon little worth
Of seeing one on whom all curses fall!
King Zeus, on thee I call!
Antistrophe.
Resounds the crash that pierces in its might:
Be pitiful, be pitiful, O God!
If aught thou bringest black and dark as night,
To this our mother earth:
Yea, may I still find favour in thy sight
438
Of seeing one on whom all curses fall!
King Zeus, on thee I call!
My son, come on, come on,
E'en though thou dost thy sacred station keep
There on the valley's edge,
For great Poseidon, Lord of Ocean deep;
For now the stranger-guest
His thanks on thee and on thy state would heap,
And bless thee, being blest.
Come therefore quickly; come, O Prince and King,
And timely counsel bring.
E'en though thou dost thy sacred station keep
There on the valley's edge,
For great Poseidon, Lord of Ocean deep;
For now the stranger-guest
His thanks on thee and on thy state would heap,
And bless thee, being blest.
Come therefore quickly; come, O Prince and King,
And timely counsel bring.
1555–1578.
Strophe.
If right it be with prayers and litanies
To worship Her who reigns,
Goddess in darkness clad,
Or Thee, O King of those
Who dwell 'neath sunless skies,
Aidoneus, O Aidoneus, I implore!
Grant that the stranger tread the darkling plains,
The dwellings of the dead and Stygian shore,
With no long agony,
No voice of wailing cry;
For so, though many woes unmerited
Come on him, God, the Just, shall yet lift up his head.
Antistrophe.
To worship Her who reigns,
Goddess in darkness clad,
Or Thee, O King of those
Who dwell 'neath sunless skies,
Aidoneus, O Aidoneus, I implore!
Grant that the stranger tread the darkling plains,
The dwellings of the dead and Stygian shore,
With no long agony,
No voice of wailing cry;
For so, though many woes unmerited
Come on him, God, the Just, shall yet lift up his head.
Ye Goddesses who dwell in darkest gloom,
And thou, strange form and dread,
Monster untamed and wild,
Who crouchest, so they say,
By well-worn gates of doom,
And barkest from thy cavern, warder strong,
In Hades (so the rumours ever spread;)
Grant to our friend clear space to pass along;
(O Thou who owe'st to Earth
And Tartaros thy birth!)
There where he nears the chambers drear and dread;
Thee I implore, who still dost sleep as sleep the dead.
And thou, strange form and dread,
439
Who crouchest, so they say,
By well-worn gates of doom,
And barkest from thy cavern, warder strong,
In Hades (so the rumours ever spread;)
Grant to our friend clear space to pass along;
(O Thou who owe'st to Earth
And Tartaros thy birth!)
There where he nears the chambers drear and dread;
Thee I implore, who still dost sleep as sleep the dead.
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