glad acclaiming shout.
Then straightway the wondrous scion of Helios pointed out
The place where the golden-gleaming Fleece was hung, wide-strained
By the falchion of Phrixus: he trusted the goal should ne’er be attained
Of that last toil by the stranger: in a tangled thicket it lay
In a ravening dragon’s warding whose jaw-teeth gripped it aye;
And in length and in breadth was he greater than a galley fifty-oared
Welded by iron mallets with blow upon blow down-poured.
Too long for me is the wheel-rutted track, for the sands run low
Of time; moreover a certain short bypath I know
Who am leader in song unto many. The serpent lurid-eyed,
Iridescent-scaled, by the magic spells of the hero died—
O Arkesilas;—and aided of Medea, he stole her, and fled
With her who was Pelias’ death-snare. Through Ocean’s deeps they sped
And the Red Sea; thence to the husband-slayers in Lemnos they came.
There strove they for guerdons of raiment in many an athlete-game,
And they couched with the women: in alien furrows there did they sow
By night or by day the fateful seed of the bright sun-glow
Of your line’s fair fortune. Planted there was Euphemus’ race,
Destined to fadeless increase through ever-during days.
In the homesteads of Lacedaemon the wanderers tarried awhile;
In Thera thereafter abode they, once named Kalliste’s Isle.
Thence was it the Son of Leto led your sires oversea,
And gave them the plains of Libya, to bring prosperity
To the land by god-given honours, and to rule o’er the hallowed town
Of golden-throned Kyrene, the Nymph of old renown,
Having devised for it counsel that ruleth in righteousness aye.
Now learn thou of Oedipus’ wisdom:20—“If one should shear away
With the axe keen-cleaving the branches of a stately oak, and bring
To shame its glorious beauty, even in the perishing
Of its fruitage, it still giveth token of that which it was of old,
Yea, though it should come to the hearth-fire at last in the winter’s cold,
Or whether, a great beam resting athwart the columns tall
That bear the weight of the rafters of a proud lord’s feasting-hall,
It doeth slavish service walled in ’twixt roof and floor,
And the place that knew it aforetime shall know it again no more.”
A physician thou art most timely; the light that from thee doth pour
The Healer-god honours. For tending a deeply festering sore
One needeth a hand most gentle. The weakest fool may shake
A state to its very foundations; but hard is the struggle to make
It again in its place stand firmly, unless God hasten to be
Unto its rulers a pilot o’er discord’s stormy sea.
But for thee is the vesture woven of such fair fortune. Be strong
In thy striving to stablish Kyrene in weal to continue long;
And of Homer’s sayings ponder thou this with diligent heed:—
“A prudent messenger bringeth,” he saith, “unto every deed
Honour exceeding goodly.” By a message rightly told
The Muse herself is exalted. Now Kyrene knoweth of old,
And the world-famed hall of Battus knoweth, how righteously
Demophilus ruled his spirit: a youth mid the youths was he
In years, albeit in counsel was he as an elder of days,
Yea, as one that through years a hundred hath run life’s weary race.
He silenceth slander; her blatant tongue is loud no more;
And insolence overweening hath he throughly learned to abhor:
He contendeth not with the noble; he lingereth no long space
In bringing a work to fulfilment;—for Opportunity stays
By a man but a fleeting moment: well is it marked of him still
How it waiteth on him as a helper, not as the slave of his will.
Of all gifts this is the saddest, to know what is best for man,
And yet that Fate the tyrant thy winning thereto should ban.
Ay, Atlas still stands straining beneath heaven’s crushing load,
From all his possessions exiled, from his ancestral abode.
Yet by Zeus ever-living the Titans were unchained; and as on time fleets,
With the lulling and veering of breezes may the shipmen shift the sheets.
And this thy banished one prayeth that, now that his cup of pain
Hath been drained to the dregs, he may look on the home of his youth again,
May have part by Apollo’s fountain in the feast, may yield his heart
To the joyance of youth, and mid burghers wise in the minstrel’s art
May hold in his hands the cithern cunningly carved, and to peace
May attain, doing hurt unto no man, and injured by none of these;
And shall tell how fair a fountain of song immortal he found
For Arkesilas, late welcomed by a friend on Theban ground.
V
For Arkesilas of Kyrene, on the same victory as the preceding ode. It was sung at Kyrene on the return of the charioteer Karrhotus, the king’s brother-in-law, and leader of his armies (according to the scholiast). He brought back his horses, but his chariot remained at Delphi, consecrated to Apollo.
Far-reaching power has wealth for him to whom
It comes, a gift that Destiny sends
With stainless honour linked: so leads he home
A charm that wins him friends.
Thon, O Arkesilas the heaven-blest,
Since from its first steps glory crowned
Thy life, hast held that boon of Heaven in quest,
Hast sought fair fame, and found,
With aid of Kastor of the chariot golden,
Who bade the wintry tempest cease,
And sheds upon thine hearthstone bliss-enfolden
Sunlight of skies of peace.
Whoso are noble bear with fairest grace
Such power as God bestows on thee;
And thou on paths of righteousness dost pace
Crowned with prosperity;
For over mighty cities king thou art;
And thy discernment eagle-eyed,
Inborn with thee, hath wedded to thine heart
Honour as to a bride.
And this day crowns thy bliss with triumph glorious
In Pythian Games by fleet steeds won.
Now hast thou welcomed home the chant victorious
As sweeps the revel on,
Phoebus’ delight. So, when the song they raise
Around Kyrene’s garden fair
Of Aphrodite, to give God the praise
For all, have thou a care.
And hold Karrhotus dearest friend, who brought
Not back, to cloak disaster’s shame,
Excuse, the child of late-wise Afterthought,
When to the halls he came
Of Battus’ sons, whose just rule lives in story;
But,
