star-land;
And Pallas and Zeus and her son, who is crowned with the ivy-garland,
Enfold her with love ever new.
With the Sea-maids, the daughters of Nereus, to Ino a life unending
In the deep is ordained for aye.
But to mortals no date is appointed whereon death’s bolt descending
Shall smite; nor can any man say
When one day, child of the sun, shall in calm peace close with unbroken
Blessing. With sorrow and joy run life’s streams, giving no token
How their mutable courses will stray.
So Destiny, she who the line of the fathers of Theron hath guided
To happiness, yet for their god-given bliss hath also provided
In its season a bitter reverse,
Since the hour when met in his journeying Laïus was, and killed
By his doom-driven son, and the word that from Pytho went forth was fulfilled,
The old-time prophecy-curse.
Swift Erinys beheld it, and slew by hands with a brother’s blood gory
His warrior sons. When died
Polyneikes, Thersander was left to win in a new war glory,
The Adrastids’ saviour and pride.
From him these trace their descent; and the son of a prince most meetly
With all praises of song triumphant and lyres outpealing sweetly
This day shall be magnified.
Olympia’s guerdon he won, and at Pytho and Isthmus the Graces,
Who his kindred have evermore blessed,
Brought to his brother the crowns of the twelve-course four-horse races.
Ay, triumph to pain bringeth rest.
Riches with nobleness graced of many things bring fruition,
And they kindle the deep-glowing fire of the huntress of honour, Ambition,
Within their possessor’s breast,
A lodestar that beacons afar, by whose light men steer most surely,
If he who doth hold by it knoweth what shall be—that they which impurely
Here lived, shall when they have died
Suffer the penalty: sins that in Zeus’s realm of light
Were committed shall One judge there in the underworld Kingdom of Night,
And their awful doom shall decide.
But through sunlitten nights and days a life of bliss untoiling
Is ordained for the righteous-souled.
No more for a meagre pittance they labour the land sore moiling,
Nor on stormy seas are they rolled;
But with them that be honoured of Gods, who had pleasure in leal oathkeeping,
They have joy of a tearless life, while the wicked are endlessly reaping
Sin-harvests too dread to behold.
But they that through those three lives have endured, their spirits refraining
From sin upon each side death,3
These traverse the pathway of Zeus, to the Tower of Kronos attaining,
Where the breezes of Ocean breathe
Round the Isles of the Blest, where flowers all-golden like flames are glowing,
Which are drooping from trees of splendour, or float on the flood soft-flowing;
And their heads and their hands they enwreathe,
As it standeth by just Rhadamanthus decreed, the eternal assessor
Of Kronos the husband of Rhea, of her who is throned possessor
Of dominion the universe o’er.
And Peleus and Kadmus are numbered amidst the glorified there;
And the heart of Zeus by Thetis’ petition was swayed, that she bare
Achilles to that blest shore,
Him who slew the invincible Hector, and Troy’s strong pillar did shiver,
And of whom was Kyknus slain
And the Dawn-queen’s Aethiop son. Many swift shafts lie in my quiver;
To the wise is their meaning plain;
For the common herd need they interpreters. Who is by nature discerning
Is the poet inspired; but the vehement babblers of other men’s learning
Croak vanity—crows be the twain!—4
At the hallowed eagle of Zeus! O my soul, on the bow be thou aiming—
And at whom in all love wilt thou speed
The renown-giving arrow? To Akragas send thou it, boldly proclaiming—
Bidding Truth of thine oath take heed—
That through years five-score no city on earth hath been known to rear on
Her breast any son more kindly in spirit to friends than Theron,
None of more liberal deed.
Yet praise is by spite ever dogged, wherein never is justice abiding,
But from grasping envy it springs; with its slanders it fain would be hiding
In darkness the good deeds done
By the noble of heart. But, as no man can number the great sea’s sands,
So the joys on his fellow-men showered by Theron with lavish hands,
Who telleth the tale of them? None!
III
For Theron of Akragas, on the same victory as the preceding ode, which was probably chanted in the palace of Theron; whereas this was sung in the temple of the Twin Brethren.
Oh Tyndarids, lords of all guest-welcoming,
Oh Helen of the tresses beauty-crowned,
Take pleasure in my praises, when I sing
Akragas far-renowned,
Chanting her son’s Olympian victory,
The glory of his tireless-footed team.
The Muse hath thrilled me with new harmony
Of wedded song and dance, in revelry
Where Dorian sandals gleam.
Garlands of victory twined in Theron’s hair
Exact of me this debt that Heaven ordains
For Ainesidamus’ son in order fair
To blend the varying strains
Of lyres with voice of flutes and ordering
Of chanted words; and Pisa bids proclaim
His glory—Pisa, poesy’s well-spring
Whence, by the Gods inspired, the great songs ring
That give men deathless fame,
Even they about whose hair the silvery-gleaming
Adorning of the olive-leaf is laid
By the Aetolian judge’s righteous deeming
The victor’s brows to shade,
According unto Heracles’ ancient hest.
From Ister’s shadowy springs he brought this tree,
When fared Amphitryon’s son on perilous quest
And gave Olympia’s games this fairest, best
Trophy of victory.
His courteous speech that Norland people swayed—
The folk who serve Apollo—to bestow
To his true-hearted prayer for Zeus’s glade,
Whither all Hellenes go,
A shadowing tree, a universal boon,
A wreath for prowess of the mighty given.
When hallowed were Zeus’ altars, lo, the Moon
Of midmonth flashed her splendour plenilune
Full in the face of Even.
Then for those great Games he ordained for ever
Just judgment and a Five-year Festival
By the steep banks of Alpheus’ hallowed river.
But of fair trees and tall
In Kronian Pelops’ glen, that chosen place,
His garden-close, was as a desert bare.
Him-seemed it lay unscreened
