Pastorals Epistles Odes (1748)/The Second Olympionique of Pindar
THE
SECOND OLYMPIONIQUE.
To Theron of Agrigentum, victorious
in the Chariot-race.
The ARGUMENT.
He praises Theron king of Agrigentum, on account of the victory obtained in the Olympic Games, with a chariot and four horses, likewise for his justice, his hospitality, his fortitude, and the illustriousness of his ancestors; whose adventures are occasionally mentioned: then he interweaves digressions to Semele, Ino, Peleus, Achilles, and others, and describes the future state of the righteous and of the wicked. Lastly, he concludes with extolling his own skill in panegyrick, and the benevolence and liberality of Theron.
The sounding harp, what god, what hero, say,
What man, shall we resound?
Is not Pisa Jove's delight?
And did not Hercules, with conquest crown'd, 5
To him ordain
The Olympiad for an army slain,
Thank-offering of the war?
And must we not, in Theron's right,
Exert our voice, and swell our song? 10
Theron, whose victorious car
Four coursers whirl, fleeting along,
To stranger-guests indulgent host,
Of Agrigentum the support and boast,
Cities born to rule and grace, 15
Fair blossom of his antient race,
Till wandering far they found, what long they sought,
A sacred seat, fast by
Where the stream does rapid run, 20
And reign'd, of Sicily the guardian eye,
When happy days,
And wealth, and favour, flow'd, and praise,
That in-born worth inflames.
Saturnian Jove, O! Rhea's Son, 25
Who o'er Olympus dost preside,
And the pitch of lofty games,
And Alpheus, of rivers the pride,
Rejoicing in my songs, do thou
Incline thine ear, propitious to my vow, 30
Blessing, with a bounteous hand,
The rich hereditary land
Whether deeds of right or wrong,
As things not done recall, 35
Not even time, the father, who produces all;
Yet can Oblivion, waiting long,
Gathering strength
Through the length
Of prosperous times, forbid those deeds to last: 40
Such force has sweetly-healing joy
The festering smart of evils to destroy,
Down by the will supreme with full content:
Thy Daughters, Cadmus, they 45
Greatly wretched here below,
Bless'd ever more, this mighty truth display.
No weight of grief,
But, whelm'd in pleasures, finds relief,
Sunk in the sweet abyss. 50
Thou, Semele, with hair a-flow,
Thou by thunder doom'd to dy,
Mingling with the gods in bliss,
Art happy, for ever, on high:
Thee Pallas does for ever love, 55
Thee chiefly Jupiter, who rules above;
Thee thy son holds ever dear,
Thy son with the ivy-wreathed spear.
With the sea-daughters dwells of Nereus old, 60
And has, by lot, obtain'd
Lasting life, beneath the deep,
A life within no bounds of time restrain'd.
The hour of death,
The day when we resign our breath, 65
That offspring of the sun,
Which bids us from our labours sleep,
In vain do mortals seek to know,
Or who destin'd is to run
A life unintangled with woe; 70
For none are able to disclose
The seasons of the uncertain ebbs and flows
Now of pleasures, now of pains,
Which hidden fate to men ordains:
Portions out a pleasing share
Of heaven-sprung happiness,
Does, ceasing in another turn of time to bless,
Distribute some reverse of care,
As from years 80
Pass'd appears,
Since the predestin'd son, at Pytho named,
Did Laius, blindly meeting, kill,
And the oracle, of old pronounc'd, fulfil:
The deed, his warlike sons in battle slew,
Each by the other's rage:
But to Polynices slain
Survived Thersander, glory of his age,
For feats of war, 90
And youthful contests, honour'd far,
The Scion, kept alive
To raise the Adrastian house again:
From whence Ænesidamus' heir
Does his spreading root derive, 95
To branch out a progeny fair;
Who, springing foremost in the chace
Of fame, demands we should his triumph grace,
Tuning lyres to vocal lays,
Sweet union of melodious praise; 100
The Olympian prize, but, with his brother, worn
The garland of renown,
At Pytho and at Isthmus; where,
Victorious both, they shar'd the allotted crown, 105
Joint-honour, won
In twelve impetuous courses, run
With four unwearied steeds.
To vanquish in the strife severe
Does all anxiety destroy: 110
And to this, if wealth succeeds
With virtues enamell'd, the joy
Luxuriant grows; such affluence
Does glorious opportunities dispense,
Giving depth of thought to find 115
Pursuits which please a noble mind,
The possessor of this store.
Far-future things discerning, knows
Obdurate wretches, once deceas'd, to immediate Woes
Consign'd, too late their pains deplore; 121
For below
'E're they go,
Sits one in judgment, who pronounces right
On crimes in this wide realm of Jove; 125
Whose dire decree no power can e'er remove:
Alike by day, the sun's unclouded light
Beholding, ever bless'd,
Live an unlaborious life, 130
Nor anxious interrupt their hallow'd rest
With spade and plow,
The earth to vex, or with the prow
The briny sea, to eat
The bread of care in endless strife. 135
The dread divinities among
The few unaccustom'd to wrong,
Who never broke the vow they swore,
A tearless age enjoy for ever-more:
While the wicked hence depart 140
To torments which appall the heart:
Thrice try'd in either state, to persevere
From all injustice pure,
Journeying onward in the way 145
Of Jupiter, in virtue still secure,
Along his road
Arrive at Saturn's rais'd abode;
Where soft sea-breezes breathe
Round the island of the bless'd; where gay 150
The trees with golden blossoms glow;
Where, their brows and arms to wreathe,
Bright garlands on every side blow;
For, springing thick in every field,
The earth does golden flowers spontaneous yield; 155
And, in every limpid stream,
The budding gold is seen to gleam:
Who, coequal, takes his seat
With Saturn sire divine, 160
Thy consort, Rhea, who above the rest dost shine,
High-thron'd, thou matron-goddess great:
These among
(Blissful throng!)
Does Peleus and does Cadmus find regard; 165
And, through his mother's winning prayer
To Jove, Achilles dwells immortal there:
The pillar firm, the whole support, of Troy,
And Cycnus gave to dy, 170
And Aurora's Æthiop son.
My arm beneath yet many darts have I,
All swift of flight,
Within my quiver, sounding right
To every skillful ear: 175
But, of the multitude, not one
Discerns the mystery unexplain'd.
He transcendent does appear
In knowledge, from nature who gain'd
His store: but the dull-letter'd croud, 180
In censure vehement, in nonsense loud,
Clamour idly, wanting skill,
Like crows, in vain, provoking still
But, to the mark address thy bow, nor rove, 185
My soul: and whom do I
Single out with fond desire,
At him to let illustrious arrows fly?
My fix'd intent,
My aim, on Agrigentum bent, 190
A solemn oath I plight,
Sincere as honest minds require,
That through an hundred circling years,
With recorded worthies bright,
No rivalling city apppears 195
To boast a man more frank to impart
Kind offices to friends with open Heart,
Or, with hand amidst his store,
Delighting to distribute more
Did the men of rancour raise
Against his fair renown,
Defamers who by evil Actions strove to drown
His good, and to conceal his praise.
Can the sand, 205
On the strand,
Be numbered o'er? Then, true to Theron's fame,
His favours showering down delight
On thousands who is able to recite?
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
Original: |
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse |
---|---|
Translation: |
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse |