The men of old, O Thrasybiélus, who mounted the car of the golden-wreathed Muses, taking up the sounding lyre, lightly shot forth their honey-sweet songs in honour of their loves, whensoever one fair in form had that precious bloom which turneth the thoughts to! Aphrodité on her beauteous throne. For, in those days, the Muse was not yet fond of gain, no, nor yet a hireling; nor did sweet warbling songs pass for sale, with their silvered faces, from out the hands of honey-voiced Terpsichoré. But now doth she bid us heed the Argive’s word that cometh nearest to the very truth. “Money, money maketh man,” quoth he, when reft of wealth and friends alike. But enough, for thou art wise! I sing the famous Isthmian victory with the steeds, by granting which to Xenocratés, Poseidon sent him to entwine about
his hair a wreath of the wild Dorian celery, thus honouring the hero of the goodly chariot, the light of the people of Acragas. And in Crisa also did the mighty Apollo look graciously upon him, and gave him glory even there. And in gleaming Athens, when he attained those famous, those gracious victories, among the sons of Erechtheus, he had no fault to find with the deftly driving hand of the man that lashed the steeds, the hand wherewith Nicomachus gave the horses full rein at the fittest moment—that very driver whom the heralds of the Olympian seasons, the Elean truce-bearers of Zeus, son of Cronus, knew once again,’ since they had won, I ween, some friendly favour from him. And with sweetly breathing voice they greeted him, when he fell upon the lap of golden Victory in their own land, which men call the precinct of Olympian Zeus; where the sons of Aenésidamus were linked with deathless honours. For the homes of your clan, O Thrasybilus, are not unfamiliar with gladsome triumph-songs, nor with sweet-voiced minstrelsy. For ’tis no hill, no, nor
is the path steep, if one bringeth the praises of the maids of Helicon to the homes of famous men. By a long throw may I fling my dart as far beyond all others,' as Xenocratés surpassed all men in sweetness of temper. Right gracious was he in his townsmen’s company, and he upheld the breeding of horses after the ordinance of all the Greeks. He welcomed too each banquet of the gods ; and never did the breeze, that blew around his hospitable board, cause him to furl his sail ; but, in the summer seasons, he passed as far as Phasis, and in his winter voyage, unto the banks of the Nile. What though the broodings of envy beset the minds of mortals? Let him never hush in silence, either his father’s prowess, no, nor yet these hymns of praise; for not to stand idle did I devise them. Give this message, Nicdsippus, when thou comest unto my trusty friend.
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