of the occurrence, for which he accepts the full responsibility.
"Newly thus, O son of Tantalus, I'll shape thy tale," &c.[1]
And in the Ninth Ode of the same Book, following an ancient myth, he finds himself describing a war between Heracles and certain other great gods—Poseidon, Apollo, and Hades. At once he starts back in horror:[2]—
"Nay, quit such theme of song,
Tongue mine! The craft that dares with impious taunts
Assail the gods, I loathe: and misplaced vaunts
Are songs for a madman's string!
Prate not thus: but from the gods sweep far the tale of fight!"
And therewith he passes instantly to a less dangerous subject, the legend of Deucalion's deluge.
But, if we regard Pindar's poetry as a whole, we shall scarcely be inclined to accept the view of the German critic, Dronke, who, on the strength of these occasional indications, describes the poet as deliberately deserting the old paths, and paving the way for a more spiritual religion by rejecting the authority of the myths. Pindar's criticisms are directed solely against details: anything like a systematic crusade against the old beliefs as a whole, had it occurred to him as practicable, would certainly have been condemned by him as an impiety. His occasional polemics against particular forms of an ancient legend are not enough to stamp him as a sceptic. Some degree
