worthy of Epharmostus's triumph than the antique and simple strains of Archilochus, which had been deemed sufficient to greet it on the actual occasion of its achievement. And in a similar tone he proceeds to describe its purposed character:—
"His city dear will I adorn
With fiery songs of loudest strain.
Swifter than noblest courser borne,
Or sail-fledged ships that cleave the main:
Afar will I the tale recite.
If, Graces sweet, 'tis mine in humblest share
To cull the blossoms of your garden rare—
For yours is all that charms: and Heaven sends skill and might."
From this prelude he dashes at once into the world of mythology with a tale of "war in heaven"—Heracles resisting the combined assault of Apollo, Hades, and Poseidon. But the introduction of this legend is a "feint." The poet is purposely delaying the myths which are to form the real substance of the Ode, in order to introduce them at last with greater effect. And soon in one of his favourite bold transitions he reveals his scheme. "Quit such theme, tongue of mine!" he cries, and springs forthwith to the local legends of Opus,—the tale of Deucalion's deluge, and of the glorious reign of a mythical prince, to whom the Opuntian Locrians loved to trace the name of their city, Opus, the son of Zeus by a princess of Elis, who afterwards became the wife of the Locrian monarch Locrus. The following is Pindar's version of the well-known legend of Deucalion, who with his wife Pyrrha escaped the deluge
