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PINDARIC ODES

The First Olymipionique to Hiero of Syracus,

Victorious in the Horse-race (476 B.C.)

 

Each element to water yields;

And gold, like blazing fire by night.

Amidst the stores of wealth that builds

The mind aloft, is eminently bright:

But if, my soul, with fond desire

To sing of games thou dost aspire,

As thou by day canst not descry.

Through all the liquid waste of sky,

One burnished star, that like the sun does glow,

And cherish everything below,

So, my sweet soul, no toil divine.

In song, does like the Olympian shine:

Hence do the mighty poets raise

A hymn, of every tongue the praise,

The son of Saturn to resound,

When far, from every land, they come

To visit Hiero's regal dome.

Where peace, where plenty, is for ever found:

 

Lord of Sicilians fleecy plains,

He governs, righteous in his power,

And, all excelling while he reigns,

From every lovely virtue crops the flower;

In music, blossom of delight,

Divinely skilled, he cheers the night,

As we are wont, when friends design

To feast and wanton o'er their wine:

But from the wall the Dorian harp take down.

If Pisa, city of renown,

And if the fleet victorious steed

The boast of his unrivalled breed,

Heart-pleasing raptures did inspire,

And warm thy breast with sacred fire,

When late, on Alpheus' crowded shore,

Forth-springing quick, each nerve he strained,

The warning of the spur disdained,

And swift to victory his master bore,

 

The loved Syracusian, the prince of the course,

The king, who delights in the speed of the horse:

Great his glory, great his fame.

Throughout the land where Lydian Pelops came

To plant his men, a chosen race

A land the ocean does embrace,

Pelops, whom Neptune, ruler of the main,

Was known to love, when into life again,

From the reviving cauldron warm,

Clotho produced him whole, his shoulder-blade.

And its firm brawn, of shining ivory made:

But truth, unvarnished, oft neglected lies,

When fabled tales, invented to surprise.

In miracles mighty, have power to charm,

Where fictions, happily combined,

Deceive and captivate the mind:

 

Thus Poesy, harmonious spell,

The source of pleasures ever new.

With dignity does wonders tell;

And we, amazed, believe each wonder true.

Day after day, brings truth to light,

Unveiled, and manifest to sight:

But, of the blessed, those lips, which name

Foul deeds aloud, shall suffer blame.

Thee, son of Tantalus, my faithful song

Shall vindicate from every wrong,

The glories of thy house restore.

And bafle falsehoods told before:

Now, in his turn, thy fire prepared

A banquet; when the gods appeared

At Sipylus, his sweet abode,

To grace the due proportioned feast:

There, first, the trident-bearing guest

Beheld thy lovely form; and now, he glowed;

 

And now, his soul subdued by love,

Thee in his golden car he bore

Swift to the lofty towers of Jove,

Whose name the nations all around adore:

Thus Ganymede was caught on high,

To serve the power who rules the sky.

When thou no longer didst appear,

And those, who sought a pledge so dear.

Without thee to thy widowed mother came.

Some envious neighbor, to defame

Thy father's feast, a rumor spread,

The rumor through the country fled,

That thou, to heighten the repast,

Wast into seething water cast,

Fierce bubbling o'er the raging fire,

Thy limbs without compassion carved,

Thy sodden flesh in messes served,

To gorge the gods and a voracious fire:

 

But, in thought ever pure, shall I deem it amiss.

Vile gluttons to call the partakers of bliss;

Let me then refrain, and dread:

A curse hangs over the blasphemer’s head.

If they, who supervise and ward

The heavens, did ever show regard

To mortal man this Tantalus might boast,

Of mortal men that he was honored most:

But he not able to digest

The glut, the surfeit, of immortal joys,

One heinous forfeit all his bliss destroys:

For over him the godhead hung, in air,

A ponderous stone, a dreadful poise of care!

From his head to remove it, with terror oppressed,

In vain he tries, and seeks in vain

One cheerful moment to regain:

 

A life of woe, beyond relief,

His portion now; ordained before

To torments of a three-fold grief,

This fourth was added to complete his store,

Since, high presuming in his soul.

He nectar and ambrosia stole, no

To give to men; by which he knew

That, tasting, he immortal grew:

But he not man deceived: the gods reveal

What most we labor to conceal:

For this the powers, who deathless reign,

To earth sent down his son again.

To dwell with men, a short-lived race.

Whose sudden fate comes on apace.

His flowery age in all its pride,

When, o^er his chin, a blackening shade

Of down was cast, a vow he made.

Deep in his soul, to win the proffered bride

 

Hippodamia, boasted name.

From her great fire the Pisan proud.

Alone, by night, the lover came

Beside the hoary sea, and called aloud

On him who sways the triple spear,

And fills with din the deafened ear;

When, at his feet, the god arose:

Then Pelops, eager to disclose

His mighty care, Neptune, if thy mind

In love did ever pleasure find.

Let not CEnomaiis prevail,

And let his brazen javelin fail:

Oh! bear me hence, on wheels of speed,

To Elis, to the glorious meed:

To victory, Oh! whirl me, strait:

Since, after ten, and other three.

Bold suitors slain, yet still we see,

From year to year, the promised nuptials wait

 

"Of his daughter. No perilous toil can excite

The dastard in heart, who despairs of his might.

Since we all are bom to die.

Who, overcast, would in oblivion lie,

In unreputed age decay,

And meanly squander life away.

Cut off from every praise? Then let me dare

This conflict, in the dusty lists, to share;

And prosper thou my glowing wheels/*

Thus Pelops spoke; nor was his fervent prayer

Poured forth in fruitless words, to waste in air:

The deity his whole ambition grants;

Nor shining car, nor coursers, now he wants:

In the golden bright chariot new vigor he feels,

Exulting in the horses' feet,

Unwearied ever, ever fleet:

 

CEnomaiis, he triumphs o'er

Thy prowess, and, to share his bed.

Claims the bright maid; who to him bore

Six princely sons, to manly virtues bred.

Now, solemnized with steaming blood,

And pious rites, near Alpheus' flood

Intombed, he sleeps, where the altar stands.

That draws the vows of distant lands:

And round his tomb the circling racers strive:

And round the wheeling chariots drive.

In thy famed courses, Pelops, rise

The Olympian glories to the skies,

And shine afar: there we behold

The stretch of manhood, strenuous, bold,

In sore fatigues, and there the strife

Of winged feet. Thrice happy he,

Who overcomes! for he shall see

Unclouded days, and taste the sweets of life,

 

Thy boon, O victory! thy prize.

The good that, in a day obtained,

From day to day fresh joy supplies,

Is the supreme of bliss to man ordained:

But let me now the rider raise,

And crown him with AEolian lays,

The victor's due: and I confide,

Though every welcome guest were tried.

Not one, in all the concourse, would be found

For fairest knowledge more renowned.

Nor yet a master more to twine,

In lasting hymns, each wreathing line.

The guardian god, who watchful guides

Thy fortunes, Hiero, presides

O’er all thy cares with anxious powV:

And soon, if he does not deny

His needful aid, my hopes run high

To sing more pleasing, in the joyful hour,

 

On thy chariot, triumphant when thou shalt appear,

And fly o'er the course with a rapid career.

Tracing paths of language fair,

As I to Cronion's sunny mount repair.

Even now the muse prepares to raise.

Her growth, the strongest dart of praise,

For me to wield. Approved in other things.

To others rise, conspicuous: only Kings,

High mounting, on the summit fix:

There bound thy view, wide-spread, nor vainly try

Farther to stretch the prospect of thine eye:

Be, then, thy glorious lot to tread sublime,

With steady steps, the measured tract of time:

Be mine, with the prize-bearing worthies to mix,

In Greece, throughout the learned throng,

Proclaimed unrivalled in my song.

 

-- Pindar (522-443 B.C.); translated by Ambrose Philips

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