Nemean V

No carver of statues am I, to fashion images moveless abidingDumb on the pedestals where men set them! Nay, sweet song of mine,Forth do thou fare from Aegina's haven, on every tall ship riding,And on every pinnace, bearing the tidings over the far sea-lineHow Pytheas, son of Lampon the stalwart-thewed, hath won the crownOf victory at the Nemean Games, the All-overcomer's renown,Ere his cheeks were flushed with the summer bloom of the soft vine-cluster's down.

So to the Aiakids, hero-spearmen from Kronos and Zeus descendedAnd from the golden Nereid Sea-maids, honour hath Pytheas brought,And to the mother-city which alway the stranger-guest hath befriended.That peopled with heroes and famed for ships she might be, this was besoughtBy Endais' scions the far-renowned and by princely Phokus' mightWho of Psamatheia the Goddess was born on the sea-beach foam-flecked white.By the altar they stood of Zeus the Hellenian Sire, and to heaven's height

These all together uplifted their hands, and for that boon made supplication.I shrink with shame from telling the awful deed unrighteously dared,And the doom from Oenone that drave them forth to be men without a nation,And how from the far-famed island-home those mighty heroes fared.I refrain: not every perfect truth its face should prudently show,And how to be silent is oft the wisest thing that a man may know.

But and if the praise of riches or might of hands or of battleward-sweepingSteel-clad war-hosts kindle the heart of the bard, let them delve me the groundFor a long leap hence—O yea, for my knees are strung for lightsome leaping.Ay, an eagle am I, and the eagle's swoop is beyond the sea-line's bound.Yea, for those heroes the welcoming song upon Pelion's height was sungBy the choir most lovely of Muses nine; and the lyre with seven chords strungWith the golden quill in Apollo's hand was swept till melodies rung

Of strains ever changing in manifold wise. The praises of Zeus they chanted;Then sang they of Thetis and Peleus, and how Hippolyte, wanton childOf Kretheus, fain would have trapped his feet in the treachery-net that she planted;And her husband, the lord of the Magnete folk, by a tale of lies she beguiled,And by counsel of subtlety wrought upon him to share in her own dark plot;For a slanderous tale of her heart's devising, a web of deceit she wrought,How that Peleus had shamed her, Akastus' queen, and his bed's defilement sought.

But contrary thereunto was the truth, for with passionate heart she besought himOft with beguiling words; but her bold speech stirred him to wrath: straightwayHe refused her embraces; with awe of the anger of Guest-ward Zeus he bethought him.And Allfather, the King of Immortals, who marshals the host of the cloud-array,Was ware thereof, and pledged by his nod that his bride ere long should beOf the Maids of the Golden Distaff a child of the Ancient of the Sea.

For Poseidon their kinsman's consent would he win, who from Aigae on shores EuboeanOft rideth the ridges of sea to the world-famed Dorian Isthmus, whereGlad chorus-companies welcome the God with the reed-flutes' ringing paean,And men contend in the lists with the fearless strength of lithe limbs there.'Tis the Fate which is linked with the hour of our birth that controlleth our whole life longOur actions. Thou from Aegina twice, Euthymenes the strong,Hast leapt to the arms of Victory, and hast won the guerdon of song.

O Pytheas, still doth thy mother's brother honour his kin who followIn the steps of one of the selfsame blood. Upon thee did Nemea smile,And the Delphian festal month of Aegina, ever-beloved of Apollo.Triumphant wast thou o'er thine age-mates all, alike in thy native isle,And by Nisus' hill of the pleasant glades. I rejoice that for glory's crownIn the lists of honour contendeth still Aegina's every town.But forget not thy debt to Menander, through whom were thy toils repaid with renown.

It is meet that of Athens a trainer be lent! If thou art come condescendingTo praise Themistius, Muse, shrink not! Uplift thy voice! Hoist highThe sail to the topmast-yard! Proclaim him victor with fists contendingAnd in that strife all-overcoming, who won him a double victoryAt Epidaurus, and thence to the portals of Aiakus did he bearFlower-garlands with green sprays twined, led on by the Graces of golden hair.