Isthmian V

Theia of many names, O mother of the Sun,Men set their stamp on gold for love of thee,Of all things precious counting this the mightiest one;Yea, and in rivalry,Queen, for thy brightness on the sea do galleys clash in wars,And in the whirling fight are marvels wrought by battle-cars.

He in the contests of the Games achieves renownDesired of all, who hath won victory's meedBy hands that wreathed his head with many a crown,Or by his fleet foot's speed.'Tis Heaven awards each prize of strength: two things alone there beThat make life's loveliest blossoms blow in wealth's flower-spangled lea,

To have good hap and reputation fair.Seek not to be as Zeus; all things are thineIf to thee falls of these best gifts thy share;For mortal bounds must mortal men confine.But, O Phylakidas, for thee at Isthmus lies in storeA twofold meed of fadeless fame, at Nemea for you twain,For thee and Pytheas, crowns pankratian. Oh, mine heart no moreRapture of song can taste, except the Aiakids swell the strain.Led by the Graces I, by sons of Lampon summoned o'er,

To this, the city of fair governance, came. If sheTo the clear path of deeds that Gods inspireHath turned her steps, grudge not the wine of minstrelsy,Her valour's glory-hire.Yea, for in days heroic her brave sons earned glory's crown,And lyre and flute-notes manifold still peal out their renown

Through years past numbering. By Zeus Kronion's graceA new theme Oineus' mighty sons have foundFor bards inspired: Aetolians still with altar-blazeWorship the world-renowned;And chariot-speeding Iolaus still is Thebe's pride,Of Argos Perseus, Leda's sons Eurotas' stream beside.

And still Oenone worships the renownOf Aiakus and his sons high-hearted, theyWho in stern battle sacked the Trojans' townFirst, when with Herakles they faced the fray,Then, with the sons of Atreus:—upward wing, O Muse, thy flight!Tell who were they before whom Kyknus fell, and Hector died.Who smote the dauntless chief who led the Aethiop hosts to fight,Memnon the brazen-mailed? And who, Kaïkus' stream beside,Met valiant Telephus, and with resistless spear did smite?

Even they whose home my lips proclaim the glorious isleAegina!—that tower builded long agoFor heroism's feet to scale her stately pile.My tongue's true-aiming bowHath many a shaft whose flight shall sing their praise: yea, Aias' stateCan witness how her shipmen's prowess saved from thraldom's fate

Salamis in that ruin-tempest heaven-sent,When slaughter's hailstorm did on myriads fall—Yet hush, O lips of mine, the vaunt irreverent!Is not Zeus Lord of all?He ordereth this and that. These late-won honours gladly hailSweet song that hymns the victor's joy. Now, whoso hears the tale

Of this Kleonikus' house, e'en let him dareThe athlete-strife! Not dulled is yet the fameOf their long toils! Nought for the cost they care:No power hath this their fiery hopes to tame!Yea, also Pytheas do I praise, who schooled unerringlyHis brother's hands to deal the blows whereby Phylakidas bareTo earth the limbs of rivals—ah, a cunning fighter he!Ho, take for him a crown, and bring the fleecy fillet fair!With song fresh-pinioned speed him on his path of victory!