Pythian II

O Syracuse, city in greatness excelling,Precinct of Ares through gulfs of warWho plungeth, O nurse of the warrior and steedThat in clash of the steel of battle-weedExult, from radiant Thebes do I speedBearing a song of the great race, tellingOf the swift earth-shaking four-horsed car,The race wherein Hiero triumphward ridingFlashed down the course with his glorious team,And crowned with garlands that glowed far-seenOrtygia, the haunt of the River-queenArtemis—aided of her, I ween,His hands as with spells of enchantment were guidingThose steeds with a bridle of rainbow-gleam;

For she, the arrow-triumphant Maiden,And Hermes the Ruler of Contests, bring—Yea, the gifts of the Gods' linked hands they are—These harness-adornings that glitter afarWhen he yokes strong steeds to his shining carAnd its wheels rein-piloted, victory-laden,Invoking the wide-ruling Trident-king.The prowess-guerdon of song sweet-ringingFrom the lips of many a bard shall swellTo the feet of lords that o'er far lands reign;As the Cyprian bards in triumphant strainChant Kinyras' praises once and again,Aphrodite's priestly minion singingWhom Apollo the golden-haired loved well;

For their gratitude's praise for his kindness is gushingFrom the hearts in loving reverence bowed.O Deinomenes' son, the Lokrian maid—In the far west sings at her door unafraidThe delivering might of thine arm, that stayedWar's march of afflictions spirit-crushing,That her eyes no longer are terror-cowed.In old-time legend it stands recordedThat Ixion, the while on the fire-winged wheelBy the sentence of Gods he is endlessly whirled,Ever shrieketh his warning, a cry that is hurledUnto men's ears up from the underworld—' Be the kindness of thy benefactors rewardedWith all the love that thine heart can reveal!

That lesson he learned in uttermost measure;For, though he received a life of blissMid the Children of Kronos, the gracious-souled,He contented him not with its joys untold,But for Hera he lusted frenzy-bold,Of Zeus's couch the inviolate treasure;For presumption drave him on into thisHis overweening infatuation.But swiftly he reaped meet harvest of sinTo suffer of all hell's torments the worst:For his twofold transgression earned the AccurstThat vengeance—the one, that he was the firstWho stained mankind with contaminationOf the treacherous spilling of blood of kin;

The other, that in the recesses most holyOf the bride-bower of Zeus did he make essayOf the Queen of Heaven! Meet is it to knowOur mortality's limits, meet to foregoThe lawless loves that their victim throwInto gulfs of destruction. Such was his folly;For with nought but a cloud it was that he lay,Unknowing all, to his own confusionLured on by a sweetly-beckoning lie;For the cloud-wrought image the semblance bareOf Kronos' Child, Heaven's fairest fair;For the hands of Zeus had fashioned the snare,The beautiful bane, for his soul's delusion.So he compassed his own dire doom thereby,

Outstretched on the wheel's arms crucifying,Tangled in bonds whence escape is none,Shrieking that warning the whole world o'er.And his cloud-mate, unblessed of the Graces, boreA monstrous child—such dam never moreNor such offspring shall be, 'neath a black curse lyingOf menfolk, of godfolk—a thing to shun!And the cloud-mother reared that evil abortionAnd named Kentaurus. By Pelion's footIn Magnesia he mated with many a mare;And a horde of monsters was born of them thereWondrous to see, for the likeness they bareOf either parent; the upper portionAs man was shapen, the nether as brute.

What purpose soever God conceivethHe accomplisheth; none his intent may defy—God, who o'ertaketh the eagle's wing,Who outstrippeth the dolphin, o'er waves though it spring,And the pride of man to the dust can bring,While unto the lowly one glory he givethThat waxeth not old as the years fleet by.But for me is it well that I lack not discretionFrom slander's viper-fangs to refrain.Ay, venomous-tongued Archilochus' fateHave I known from of old, and his low estateWho with rancorous speech fed fat his hate.Of all things that Fortune can give in possessionRiches with wisdom are best to attain.

These blessings be thine, may all see plainly;And this thou showest, O liberal-souled,O princely ruler of many a streetFair-circled with towers where thy squadrons meet;And such riches and honour thy weal completeThat in fantasy's folly he striveth vainlyWho saith that any surpassed thee of oldAmong Hellene lords that be famed in story.On the prow of my galley with flowers hung roundWill I take my stand as the praises I singOf thy prowess. Young hearts win strengtheningFrom courage when trumpets for onset ring.Yea, thou, I proclaim it, hast won thee gloryTherefrom, a glory that knows no bound,

Now warring mid horsemen battleward racing:And now mid warriors afoot that fight.And thy wisdom now when thy locks be greyIs of all gainsaying unperilled—O yea,It giveth me fullest assurance ayeFor extolling thy name with manifold praising:All hail! This song o'er the sea-foam whiteLike Tyrian merchandise lo, I have brought thee.Let thine eyes then smile on the Kastor-strainThat my fingers from chords Aeolian drew:O greet it thou with the honour dueTo the seven-stringed lute. To thyself be true,To the royal wisdom the years have taught thee.'Tis from children alone that the ape doth gain

The praise of beauty, is beauteous ever!Rhadamanthus is homed in the Isles of the Blest,For the fruit of his soul was uncankered of guile:No pleasure he hath in the treacherous wileOf the whisperer working by calumnies vile.The secret speakings of slander neverCan be openly fought and for ever repressed.There is nothing of man in them—nay, 'tis the slinkingSpirit of foxes they show; and yetFrom his cunning what gain doth the sly fox reap?As for me—while the rest of the net-tackle deepIn the briny darkness doth toilsomely sweepThe sea-floor—I, like the float unsinkingAm riding the waves high over the net.

In a city of honest men unavailingIs the trickster's babble, yet still he essays,Fawning on all men, the toils to twineOf his subtlety. Never his vaunt shall be mine—' To a friend be I friend, to a foe malign!As a wolf will I covertly track him, assailingThis side and that side, by crooked ways.'In what state soever a people be dwelling,'Tis the man of straightforward speech alwayThat unto the foremost place attains;Whether it be where a despot reigns,Or where the rabble hot-headed strainsAgainst use and wont, or where sages excellingIn wisdom the helm of the commonweal sway.

Strive not against God, who exalts at his pleasureNow one, now setteth another on high.Yet doth not even His will seem rightUnto envious ones, but they strain over-tightThe line, and their own hearts so do they smiteWith a wound whose bitterness none may measure,Ere the prize be gained for the which they sigh.Nay, better it is that a man bear lightlyThe yoke of Fate on his neck that lies.But he makes for his feet a perilous roadWho backward lashes against the goad.But on me be this fair fortune bestowed,To dwell among them which walk uprightly,And to be well-pleasing in good men's eyes.