THE SECOND OLYMPIC ODE OF PINDAR. Written in praise of Theron, prince of Agrigentum (a famous city in Sicily, built by his ancestors), who, in the seventyseventh Olympic, won the chariot-prize. He is commended from the nobility of his race (whose story is often touched on); from his great riches (an ordinary common-place in Pindar); from his hospitality, munificence, and other virtues. The Ode (according to the constant custom of the Poet) consists more in digressions than in the main subject: and the Reader most not be choked to hear him speak so often of his own Muse; for that is a liberty which this kind of poetry can hardly live without. QUEEN of all harmonious things, Dancing words, and speaking strings! What God, what Hero, wilt thou sing? What happy man to equal glories bring? Begin, begin thy noble choice, And let the hills around reflect the image of thy Pisa does to Jove belong; Jove and Pisa claim thy song. [voice. The fair first-fruits of war, the' Olympic games, Alcides offer'd up to Jove; Alcides too thy strings may move; [prove! But, oh! what man to join with these can worthy Join Theron boldly to their sacred names; Theron the next honour claims; Theron to no man gives place, Is first in Pisa's and in Virtue's race; Even his own swift forefathers has outgone. They through rough ways, o'er many stops they pass'd, Till on the fatal bank at last They Agrigentum built, the beauteous eye Of fair-faced Sicily: Which does itself i' the' river by With pride and joy espy. Then cheerful notes their painted years did sing, For the past sufferings of this noble race (Since things once past, and fied out of thine hand, Hearken no more to thy command) Let present joys fill up their place, And with Oblivion's silent stroke deface Of foregone ills the very trace. In no illustrious line Do these happy changes shine More brightly, Theron! than in thine. VOL. II. K So, in the crystal palaces Of the blue-eyed Nereides, Plays with lightnings as they fly, Nor trembles at the bright embraces of the Deity. But death did them from future dangers free; For living man's security, Or will ensure our vessel in this faithless sea? So healthful a fair-day beget, That travelling mortals might rely on it. E'er since the fatal son his father slew, And did old oracles fulfil Of Gods that cannot lie, for they foretell but their own will. Erynnis saw 't, and made in her own seed The innocent Parricide to bleed; She slew his wrathful sons with mutual blows: But better things did then succeed, And brave Thersander, in amends for what was past arose. Brave Thersander was by none, In war, or warlike sports, outdone. Thou, Theron, his great virtues dost revive; Loud Olympus happy thee, Isthmus and Nema does twice happy see; For the well-natured honour there, Which with thy brother thou didst share, Was to thee double grown By not being all thine own; And those kind pious glories do deface Greatness of mind and fortune too This without that is blind, that without this is lame. And on short man long cannot wait; [and know They, whilst life's air they breathe, consider well, The' account they must hereafter give below; In deep unlovely vaults, By the just decrees of Jove, The heavy necessary effects of voluntary faults. Whilst in the lands of unexhausted light, Where neither Want does pinch, nor Plenty cloy: For food, that whilst it nourishes does decay, Did thrice the trial undergo, Till all their little dross was purged at last, Soft-footed winds with tuneful voices there There silver rivers through enamel'd meadows glide, The' illustrious leaves no dropping autumn fear, For bracelets to the arm, and garlands to the head. Here great Achilles, wrathful now no more, Had try'd it on his body' in vain) Dipp'd now his soul in Stygian lake, Which did from thence a divine hardness take, That does from passion and from vice invulnerable make. |