who dared defy
Her father, chose at her own heart’s behest
A bridegroom, and the saviour was thereby
Of Argo and the Heroes of the Quest.
Again of old when dashed the war’s red seas
Against Troy’s walls, ’twas ever Corinth’s sons
That swayed to either side war’s balance, these
Helping Atreides and his mighty ones
To win back Helen, those to make resistance
Unto the uttermost, when Danaans quailed
Before strong Glaukus, who from the far distance
Of Lycia’s highlands flashed on them bronze-mailed,
And vaunted of his father’s empery
Over the city of Peirene there,
And of his heritage of deep-loamed lea,
And of his stately palace royal-fair,
That sire who sorely suffered by the spring
Where he would fain bind snake-haired Gorgon’s son
Pegasus. Dreaming, he saw Pallas bring
The bridle that with golden frontlet shone:—
And lo, ’twas no dream! “Aiolid prince, awake thee!”
She cried—“Receive this spell to charm yon steed.
To thine horse-taming Sire with this betake thee;
There let a white bull on his altar bleed.”
Thus as he slumbered in the gloom of night,
The Maid of the Dark Aegis seemed to say.
Upleaping, on his feet he stood upright,
And seized the marvel that beside him lay.
Then joyously to Corinth’s seer he wended,
And to the son of Koiranus he showed
How that strange venture of the night had ended,
How, trusting all the prophet did forebode,
He laid him down to sleep all through the night
Upon the altar in Athene’s fane;
How she, the Child of Him whose lance of light
Is levin, with her own hands did she deign
To bring to him the spirit-taming gold.
The seer bade haste that vision to obey;
To the Wide-ruler who doth earth enfold
The bull, the mighty-footed beast, to slay;
And then to rear to Pallas chariot-reining
An altar. Ah, by power of Gods is brought
To pass a thing transcending prayers’ attaining,
Transcending all hope—effortlessly wrought!
So was it now; for strong Bellerophon
With haste impetuous hied him forth to quell
That winged steed—lo, the victory was won
When touched his jaws the fury-stilling spell!
He sprang on Pegasus’ back; in brazen mail
Arrayed to play the play of swords he sped;
And riding on that steed did he assail
From the chill cloudland’s folds untenanted
The Amazon host, the maids that bear the quiver;
Fire-breath’d Chimaera slew and Solymi.
That steed in Zeus’s stalls abideth ever:—
His rider’s doom I pass in silence by.
But, as I hurl the whizzing casting-spear,
My shaft beside the mark I may not speed.
To Song-queens splendour-throned with joy draws near
Their champion, and to Oligaithus’ seed.
How oft at Nemea these have shone victorious
And at the Isthmus, all will I comprise
In few words: of the record passing-glorious
My tale a truthful witness ratifies—
Ay, under oath—that noble herald’s tongue
Which published threescore victories in the names
Of this House—welcome-sweet his accents rung!—
When Nemea and the Isthmus held their games.
Touching their victories at Olympia won,
Meseems, the tale already hath been told;
And of the great deeds that shall yet be done,
Their tale hereafter shall my song unfold
Clearly. I hope now: with God lies the issue;
But, if this House’s fortune speed, I trow,
Zeus and the War-god’s hands shall weave the tissue
Of that bright future. ’Neath Parnassus’ brow
Six triumphs won they: all at Argos gained
And Thebes, and where by that Lykaian height
The altar royal unto Zeus ordained
Shall witness in Arcadia’s people’s sight,
And in Pellene, Megara, Sikyon,
And in the Aiakids’ close fair-walled around,
And at Eleusis, shining Marathon,
And towns by Etna’s huge mass overfrowned,
Euboea—nay, all Hellas through, thy questing
Shall prove them countless. Zeus, who answerest prayer,
Light let their feet glide on! Be honour resting
On these, all bliss be theirs and fortune fair!
XIV
For Asopichus of Orchomenus, in Boeotia, on his victory in the Boys’ short foot-race, BC 488 (?).
O ye who your lot by Kephisus have found,
Ye who dwell in the land where the swift horse races,
O bright Orchomenus’ queens, ye Graces
Who compass the ancient Minyans round
With your guardian arms, O song-renowned,
Now hearken my prayer! By your bounty all pleasure,
All sweet things on menfolk descend in full measure,
All wisdom, all beauty, all fame with its splendour.
’Tis with help that the Graces, the worshipful, render
That the Gods’ own dancings and feastings be holden;
Yea, these be dispensers of all things in Heaven.
By the side of the Lord of the bow all-golden,
Pythian Apollo, be thrones to them given;
The Olympian Sire are they ever adoring,
And his majesty’s fountain for aye outpouring.
O Daughters of Zeus of the Gods most high,
Euphrosyne lover of song, and Aglaia,
And thou who dost joy in the chant, Thalia,
Hearken ye now to our suppliant cry!
Look down as our triumphing troop sweeps by,
As onward with lightsome foot it is pacing
The victor’s fortune of happiness gracing.
I come hither the praise of Asopichus singing,
In Lydian measure my chant outringing,
For that now is the Minyan House victorious
By your grace at Olympia. Fly, Echo, telling
Unto old Kleodamus the tidings glorious
That shall brighten Persephone’s dark-walled dwelling,
How his son in the Vale far-famous in story
Hath enwreathed his tresses with garlands of glory.
The Pythian Odes
I
For Hiero, ruler of Syracuse, on his victory in the chariot-race, 470 BC, in which he was proclaimed as “of Etna,” a new city founded by him near Mt. Etna. In 480 BC he had defeated the Carthaginian invaders in the battle of Himera, and in 474 BC, the Etruscans in a sea-fight of Cumae. In BC 475 there was a great eruption of Mt. Etna. All these events are referred to in this Ode.
O golden Lyre, who art Phoebus’ treasure
Which he shares with the dusk-haired Song-queens aye,
The light feet hear thee beating the measure
As the revellers marshal their dance-array.
O Lyre, thy signals the singers obey
When in preludes of choral song low-dreaming
O’er thy strings quick-throbbing the harmonies glide.
Thou quenchest the thunderbolt’s self red-gleaming
Javelined
