Victory Odes

with hand of iron.
So Peleus quenched the violence of fire,
And quelled the keen claws and the furious ire
Of lions dauntless-hearted, and the grim
Edge of the terrible teeth that threatened him,

Strophe 9

And won to wife the Child of Nereus hoary,
Thetis the bright-throned, saw the enringing glory
Of seats whereon the Lords of sky and sea
Were throned, their bridal gifts of sovranty
To him and his seed after him revealing,
Even the mighty kingdoms that should be.
But past Gadeira and the gloom concealing
The outsea none press. Turn the sail again
Of the ship backward unto Europe’s main.
The whole tale of the sons of Aiakus’ line
To tell throughout transcends all powers of mine.

Strophe 10

I with the Clan Theandrid covenanted
To be their herald: lo, my lips have chanted
Their prowess! Of those contests is my song
Which make the thews of champions passing strong.
Olympia, Isthmus, Nemea⁠—wheresoever
They prove their might amid the athlete-throng,
Without renown for fruit they turn back never
Home, Timasarchus, where thy clan, ’tis told,
In victory-crowns pre-eminence doth hold.
If thou wouldst bid me rear, besides all these,
Unto thy mother’s brother Kallikles

Strophe 11

A pillar more than Parian marble splendid⁠—
As gold when the refiner’s work is ended
Shows all its brightness forth, so by the lay
That chants great deeds in war or athlete-play
A man is raised to heights of bliss excelling
The pomp of kings⁠—let him then, though to-day
On Acheron’s shore thy Kallikles be dwelling,
Yet catch the sound of this my voice that sings
On earth his praise who in the athlete-rings
Of the great Trident-wielder thunder-voiced
With brows at Corinth garland-crowned rejoiced.

Strophe 12

His praise did Euphanes thy grandsire hoary
Sing, fain to tell, my son, his prowess’ story.
Hymned by the old bards men of old have been;
But, whatsoe’er each singer’s self hath seen,
That trusteth he that best of all he singeth.
So he that chants Melesias’ praise, I ween,
Would be as one who every rival flingeth
To earth, with words like wrestlers’ limbs that twine;
In grapple of speech yields never his mighty line⁠—
A courteous conqueror of a noble foe,
He deals the churl relentless overthrow.

V

For Pytheas, son of Lampon, of Aegina, (trained by Menander of Athens), on his victory in the Boys’ Pancration, BC 485 (?).

Strophe 1

No carver of statues am I, to fashion images moveless abiding
Dumb on the pedestals where men set them! Nay, sweet song of mine,
Forth do thou fare from Aegina’s haven, on every tall ship riding,
And on every pinnace, bearing the tidings over the far sea-line
How Pytheas, son of Lampon the stalwart-thewed, hath won the crown
Of victory at the Nemean Games, the All-overcomer’s renown,
Ere his cheeks were flushed with the summer bloom of the soft vine-cluster’s down.

Antistrophe 1

So to the Aiakids, hero-spearmen from Kronos and Zeus descended
And from the golden Nereid Sea-maids, honour hath Pytheas brought,
And to the mother-city which alway the stranger-guest hath befriended.
That peopled with heroes and famed for ships she might be, this was besought
By Endaïs’ scions the far-renowned and by princely Phokus’ might
Who of Psamatheia the Goddess was born on the sea-beach foam-flecked white.
By the altar they stood of Zeus the Hellenian Sire, and to heaven’s height

Epode 1

These all together uplifted their hands, and for that boon made supplication.
I shrink with shame from telling the awful deed unrighteously dared,
And the doom from Oenone that drave them forth to be men without a nation,
And how from the far-famed island-home those mighty heroes fared.
I refrain: not every perfect truth its face should prudently show,
And how to be silent is oft the wisest thing that a man may know.

Strophe 2

But and if the praise of riches or might of hands or of battleward-sweeping
Steel-clad war-hosts kindle the heart of the bard, let them delve me the ground
For a long leap hence⁠—O yea, for my knees are strung for lightsome leaping.
Ay, an eagle am I, and the eagle’s swoop is beyond the sea-line’s bound.
Yea, for those heroes the welcoming song upon Pelion’s height was sung
By the choir most lovely of Muses nine; and the lyre with seven chords strung
With the golden quill in Apollo’s hand was swept till melodies rung

Antistrophe 2

Of strains ever changing in manifold wise. The praises of Zeus they chanted;
Then sang they of Thetis and Peleus, and how Hippolyte, wanton child
Of Kretheus, fain would have trapped his feet in the treachery-net that she planted;
And her husband, the lord of the Magnete folk, by a tale of lies she beguiled,
And by counsel of subtlety wrought upon him to share in her own dark plot;
For a slanderous tale of her heart’s devising, a web of deceit she wrought,
How that Peleus had shamed her, Akastus’ queen, and his bed’s defilement sought.

Epode 2

But contrary thereunto was the truth, for with passionate heart she besought him
Oft with beguiling words; but her bold speech stirred him to wrath: straightway
He refused her embraces; with awe of the anger of Guest-ward Zeus he bethought him.
And Allfather, the King of Immortals, who marshals the host of the cloud-array,
Was ware thereof, and pledged by his nod that his bride ere long should be
Of the Maids of the Golden Distaff a child of the Ancient of the Sea.

Strophe 3

For Poseidon their kinsman’s consent would he win, who from Aigae on shores Euboean
Oft rideth the ridges of sea to the world-famed Dorian Isthmus, where
Glad chorus-companies welcome the God with the reed-flutes’ ringing paean,
And men contend in the lists with the fearless strength of lithe limbs there.
’Tis the Fate which is linked with the hour of our birth that controlleth our whole life long
Our actions. Thou from Aegina twice, Euthymenes21 the strong,
Hast leapt to the arms of Victory, and hast won the guerdon of song.

Antistrophe 3

O Pytheas, still doth thy mother’s brother honour his kin who follow
In the steps of one of the selfsame blood. Upon thee did Nemea