With eager, anxious step he came}
A wound so near his heart Shook with dismay his inmost frame, And rous'd the active spirits in every part. To our own sorrows serious heed we give; But for another's woe soon cease to grieve.
Amaz'd the trembling father stood, While doubtful pleasure, mixt with wild surprise, Drove from his troubled heart the vital flood: His son's stupendous deed with wondering eyes He view'd, and how the gracious will Of Heaven to joy had chang'd his fear And falsified the messengers of ill.
Then straight he calls th' unerring seer, Divine Tiresias, whose prophetic tongue
Jove's sacred mandates from the tripod sung; Who then to all th' attentive throng explain'd What fate th' immortal gods for Hercules ordain'd.
What fell despoilers of the land
The prophet told, what monsters of the main, Should feel the vengeance of his righteous hand: What savage, proud, pernicious tyrant slain, To Hercules should bow his head, Hurl'd from his arbitrary throne, Whose glittering pomp his curs'd ambition fed, And made indignant nations groan. Last, when the giant sons of Earth shall dare To wage against the gods rebellious war, Pierc'd by his rapid shafts on Phlegra's plain
With dust their radiant locks the haughty foe shall stain.
Then shall his generous toils for ever cease, With fame, with endless life repaid; With pure tranquillity and heavenly peace: Then led in triumph to his starry dome,
To grace his spousal bed shall come, In Beauty's glowing bloom array'd, Immortal Hebe ever young.
In Jove's august abodes
Then shall be hear the bridal song; Then, in the blest society of gods,
The nuptial banquet share, and, rapt in praise And wonder, round the glittering mansion gaze.
THE ELEVENTH NEMEAN ODE. This ode is inscribed 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 colleagues, 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.
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 pryta
rums, as the Greeks called them); beseeching her to receive favourably Aristagoras and his colleagues, 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 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 clothing of flesh is perishable, and that he must ere long be clothed 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 Olympic 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 men's 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 enterprises, in which they would, in all probability, have come off with honour. This reflection he applies to 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
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, aud forming enterprises, without previously consulting Prudence or Wisdom, whose streams, says he, lie 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,
DAUGHTER of Rhea! thou, whose holy sire Before the awful seat of Justice flames!
But hail, Arcesilas! all hail To thee! bles. father of a son so great!
Thou, whom on Fortune's highest scale The favourable hand of Heaven hath set, Thy manly form with beauty hath refin'd, And match'd that beauty with a valiant mind. Yet let not man too much presume, Though grac'd with beauty's fairest bloom; Though for superior strength renown'd; Though 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 mouldering urn, To earth, the end of all things, he return.
Yet should the worthy from the public tongue Receive their recompense of virtuous praise;
By every zealous patriot sung,
And deck'd with every flower of heavenly 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: Mixt with the great pancratiastic crown, Which from the neighbouring youth thy early va lour won.
And (but his timid parents' cautious love, Distrusting over 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 valorous 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 heme had he return'd; While by his fame eclips'd his vanquish'd foes had mourn'd.
Then his triumphal tresses bound With the dark verdure of th' Olympic grove, With joyous banquets had be crovin'd
The great quinquennial festival of Jove; And cheer'd the soleman pomp with choral lays, Sweet tribute which the Muse to Virtue pays. But, such is man's preposterous fate! Now with o'er-weeping pride elate, Too far he aims his shaft to throw, And straining bursts his feeble bow,
Now pusillanimous, deprest with fear, He checks his virtue in the mid-career; And, of his strength distrustful, coward flies The contest, though impower'd to gain the prize.
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 Amycle to the Lesbian shore And Tenedos, colleagued 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'
Though 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; While Nature's vigour, working at the root, In after-ages swells, and blossoms into fruit.
Nor hath Jove given 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.
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 Spira or elegies of Pindar.
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 about it, but proceed to celebrate the victories of Xenocrates: after an enumeration of which, he passes on to the mention of the virtues of Xenocrates, whom he praises for his benevolence, his public spirit, his devo tion to the gods, and his constant uninterrupted course of hospitality in all changes of fortune. These virtues of his father he encourages Thrasybulus not to conceal throngh the fear of exciting the envy of mankind, and bids Nicasippus (by whom this ode was sent to Thrasybulus) to tell him to publish it; concluding with observing, that a poem is not made to continue always, like a mute and motionless statue, in one place.
THEY, Thrasybulus, who in ancient days Triumphant mounted in the Muses' car, Tuning, their harps to soft and tender lays, [fair;
Aim'd their sweet numbers at the young and Whose beauties, ripe for love, with rapturous fires Their wanton hearts inflam'd, and waken'd strong desires.
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.
But now she suffers all her tuneful train Far other principles to hold; And with the Spartan sage maintain,
That man is worthless without gold. This truth himself by sad experience prov'd, Deserted in his need by those he lov'd. Nor to thy wisdom is this truth unknown. 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 generous cares with honour to repay.
Him too, his Agrigentum's brightest star, Latona's son with favourable eyes
At Crisa view'd, and bless'd his conquering car; Nor, when, contending for the noble prize, Nichomachus, on Athens' craggy plain,
With dextrous art control'd the chariot-steering rein,
Did Phoebus blame the driver's skilful hand, But with Athenian palins his master grac'd; His master, greeted in th' Olympic sand;
And evermore with grateful zeal embrac'd By the great priests, whose herald voice proclaims Th' Elean feasts of Jove, and Pisa's sacred games.
Him, on the golden lap of Victory Reclining his illustrious head, They hail'd with sweetest melody; And through the land his glory spread, Through the fam'd Altis of Olympic 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.
In smooth and flowery 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.
To all benevolent, revered, belov'd,
In every social virtue he excell'd;
And with his conquering 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.
Nor did he e'er when rose a stormy gale Relax his hospitable course, Or gather in his swelling sail: But, finding ever some resource
The fierce extremes of fortune to allay, Held on with equal pace his constant way. Permit not then, through dread of envious tongues, Thy father's worth to be in silence lost; Nor from the public 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.
On Saturn's head Ophion's honours plac'd, And with his consort's glories Rhea grac'd. Thence to old Ocean's watery kingdoms hurl'd, Thus they resign'd the sceptre of the world: And Saturn rul'd the blest Titanian gods, While infant Jove possess'd the dark abodes Of Dicte's cave; his mind yet uninforın'd With heavenly wisdom, and his hand unarin'd': Forg'd by the Cyclops, Earth's gigantic race, Flam'd not as yet the lightning's scorching blaze, Nor roar'd the thunder through the realms above, The strength and glory of almighty Jove."
This said, the tuneful bard his lyre unstrung, And ceas'd th' enchanting music of his tongue. But, with the sound entranc'd, th' attentive ear Thought him still singing, still stood fixt to hear. In silent rapture every chief remains, And feels within his heart the thrilling strains. Forthwith the bowl they crown with rosy wine, And pay due honours to the power divine. The pure libations on the fire they pour, While rising flames the mystic tongues devour. Now sable Night ascends her starry throne, And Argo's chiefs her drowsy influence own. But when the bright-ey'd Morning rear'd her head, ·And look'd o'er Pelion's summits ting'd with red; Light skimm'd the breezes o'er the watery plain, And gently swell'd the fluctuating main. Then Tiphys rose, and, summon'd by his care, Embark'd the heroes, and their oars prepare. Portentous now along the winding shores Hoarse-sounding Pagasaan Neptune roars. Impatient Argo the glad signal took,
While from her vocal keel loud murmurs broke; Her keel of sacred oak divinely wrought Itonian Pallas from Dodona brought.
On their allotted posts now rang'd along In seemly order sate the princely throng: Fast by each chief his glittering armour flames; The midmost station bold Ancæus claims, With great Alcides, whose enormous might Arm'd with a massy club provokes the fight, Now plac'd beside him: in the yielding flood The keel deep-sinking feels the demi-god.
Their hausers now they loose, and on the brine
THE SONG OF orpheus, anD THE SET- To Neptune pour the consecrated wine.
TING OUT OF THE ARGO.
THEN too, the jarring heroes to compose, Th' enchanting bard, Oeagrian Orpheus rose, And thus, attuning to the trembling strings His soothing voice of harmony, he sings:
"In the beginning how heaven, earth, and sea, In one tumultuous chaos blended lay; Till Nature parted the conflicting foes, And beauteous order from disorder rose : How, roll'd incessant o'er th' ethereal plain, Move in eternal dance the starry train;
How the pale orb of night, and golden Sun, [run; Through months and years their radiant journeys Whence rose the mountains clad with waving woods, The rushing rivers, and resounding floods, With all their nymphs; from what celestial seed The various tribes of animals proceed. Next how Ophion held his ancient reign, With his fam'd consort, daughter of the main: On high Olympus' snowy head enthron'd, The new-created world their empire own'd: Till force superior, and successless war, Divested of their crowns the regal pair;
Then from his native shores sad Jason turns His oft-reverted eye, and silent mourns. As in Ortygia, or the Delphic Fane, Or where Ismenus laves Boeotia's plain, Apollo's altars round, the youthful choir, The dance according with the sounding lyre, The hallow'd ground with equal cadence beat, And move in measure their harmonious feet: Together so Thessalia's princes sweep With well-tim'd oars the silver-curling deep: While, raising high the Thracian harp, presides Melodious Orpheus, and the movement guides. On either side the dashing surges broke, And fierce remurmur'd to each mighty stroke; Thick flash'd the brazen arms with streaming light, While the swift bark pursues her rapid flight. And ever as the sea-green tide she cleaves, [waves: Foams the long track behind, and whitens all the So shines the path, across some verdant plain, Trac'd by the footsteps of the village swain.
Jove on that day from his celestial throne, And all th' immortal powers of Heaven look'd down, The godlike chiefs and Argo to survey,
As through the deep they urg'd their daring way.
Then too on Pelion's cloud-topt summit stood The nymphs, and fauns, and sisters of the wood, With wonder viewing the tall pine below, That shaded once the mountain's shaggy brow, Now fram'd by Pallas o'er the sounding sca Thessalia's mighty heroes to convey. But, lo! from Pelion's highest cliff descends, And downward to the sea his footsteps bends The centaur Chiron; on the beach he stood And dipp'd his fetlocks in the hoary flood. Then waving his broad hand, the bark he hales, And speeds with prosperous vows the parting sails. With him advanc'd his consort to the shore; The young Achilles in her arms she bore: Then, raising high in air the pleasing load, To his fond sire the smiling infant show'd.
THE STORY OF PHINEUS.
THE following day Bithynia's coast they reach, And fix their hausers to the sheltering beach. There on the margin of the beating flood The mournful mansions of sad Phineus stood, Agenor's son; whom Heaven ordain'd to bear The grievous burthen of unequal care. For taught by wise Apollo to desery Th' unborn events of dark futurity, Vain of his science, the presumptuous seer Deign'd not Jove's awful secrets to revere; But wantonly divulg'd to frail mankind The sacred purpose of th' omniscient mind. Hence Jove indignant gave him length of days, But quench'd in endless shade his visual rays. Nor would the vengeful god permit him taste The cheerful blessings of the genial feast; Though the large tribute of the nations round Their prophet's boardwith wealth and plenty crown'd.
For, lo! descendling sudden from the sky, Found the pil'd banquet shrieking harpies fly, Who with rapacious claws incessant tear Forth from his famish'd lips th' untasted fare. Yet would some slender pittance oft remain, What might suffice to keep up life and pain. But then such odours the foul scraps exhal'd, That with the stcuch the loathing stomach fail'd, Aloof the hungry guests and wondering stood, While their sick hearts abhorr'd the putrid food.
But now the princely crew approaching near, The welcome sound invades the prophet's car. Taught by th' inspiring god, that now was come The long-wish'd period of Heaven's vengeful doom, That by these heroes destin'd aid restor'd, Peace should thenceforward bless his feas:ful board. Then heaves he from the couch his haggard head, Like some pale, lifeless, visionary shade, And leaning on his staff, with faltering steps Along the walls his way exploring creeps. Diseas'd, enfeebled, and by age unbrac'd, Trembled his tottering limbs as forth he pass'd. Shrunk was his form, adust with want and care, And bursting through his hide the pointed bones
But faint and breathless as he reach'd the gate, Down on the threshold over-toil'd he sate. In dizzy fumes involv'd, his brain runs round, And swims beneath his feet the solid ground. No more their functions the frail senses keep, And speechless sinks the seer in death-like sleep.
This saw the chiefs amaz'd, and gather'd round; When from his labouring lungs a hollow sound, With breath and utterance scarce recover'd, broke, And thus th' enlighten'd seer prophetic spoke:
"Princes of Greece, attend; if ye be they Whom o'er the main Thessalia's pines convey, And Jason leads to Colchos' magic land, Such is your cruel tyrant's stern command. Yes, ye be they; for yet my mental eye Undimm'd past, present, future, can descry. Thanks to thy son, Latona, who bestows This grace, this only solace of my woes.
By Jove, to whom the suppliant's cause belongs, Who hates the merciless, who avenges wrongs, By Phoebus, by Saturnia, wife of Jove, By all the blest immortal powers above, Who lead you o'er the main with watchful care, O help! O save from famine and despair A wretch ill-fated, to affliction born, Nor leave me here unpitied and forlorn. For not these orbs alone depriv'd of sight Vindictive Heaven hath veil'd in doleful night; But to extreme old age his cruel law Dooms me th' unwasting thrcad of life to draw. Nor end my sorrows here; a heavy chain Of woes succeeds, and pain still link'd to pain. From secret haunts aërial, unexplor'd, Flights of devouring harpies vex my board. Swift, instantaneous, sudden they descend, And from my mouth the tasteful morsel rend. Meanwhile my troubled soul, with woes opprest, No means of aid, no comfort can suggest. For when the feast 1 purpose to prepare, They see that purpose, and prevent my care. But cloy'd and glutted with the luscious spoil, With noisome ordure, parting, they defile Whate'er remains, if aught perchance remain, |That none approaching may the stench sustain, Though his strong heart were wrapt in plated mail, The filthy fragments such dire steams exhale: Yet me fell Hunger's all-subduing pain Compells, reluctant, loathing, to remain; Compells the deadly odours to endure, And gorge the craving maw with food impure. From these invaders (so hath Fate decreed) By Boreas' offspring shall my board be freed. Nor on a stranger to your house and blood, O sons of Boreas, is your aid bestow'd! Phineus behold, Agenor's hapless son, Once for prophetic skill and riches known; Who, while I sway'd the Thracian sceptre, led Your dower'd sister to my spousal bed.” Here Phineus eras'd; each pitying hero groans, But chief, O Boreas, thy relenting sons Feel kind compassion swelling in their souls, While down their cheeks the generous torrent rolls. Then Zetes near approaching closely press'd His band, and thus the labouring seer address'd: "O most disastrons of all human kind, Whence sprung the evils that o'erwhelm thy mind? Hast thou, intrusted with the book of Fate, By folly merited celestial hate? Hence falls this indignation on thy head? Fain would the sons of Borcas give thee aid; Fain would they execute what Heaven ordains, But awful dread their willing hands restrains. To frighted mortals well thy sufferings prove, How tierce the vengeance of the gods above. Then swear, or never shall this righteous sword, Though drawn for thy deliverance, aid afford;
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