Ye Muses, we shall revel forth from Apollo's fane at Sicyon unto the newly-founded Aetna, where doors flung open wide are too narrow for all the guests, even unto the rich palace of Chromius; but do ye make a sweet strain of verse. For, mounting his chariot of victorious steeds, he proclaimeth a song in honour of the Mother (Létó) and of her twin offspring (Apollo and Artemis), who hold united sway over lofty Pytho. Now there is a saying among men, that it is not meet that a deed nobly done should be buried silently in the ground, and a lay divine of verse is well fitted for loud acclaim. But we shall wake the pealing lyre, shall wake the flute, in honour of the most exalted of all contests with the steed,— contests which Adrastus at the streams of Asépus founded in honour of Phoebus; and when I make mention thereof, I shall deck with loudly-sounding words of praise the hero who, erst, when he was monarch there, exalted and glorified his city with fresh festivals and contests that prove men’s strength, and with chariots of cunning work. For, of old
time, Adrastus had fled from his ancestral home, even from Argos, before the bold-hearted Amphiaraüs and the dread sedition. Thus the sons of Talaüs were no longer rulers, as they had been over-powered by civil strife, but, when a stronger man cometh, he doeth away with existing right. The man-quelling Eriphylé had been given as wife to Amphiaraüs, the son of Oicles, as a sure pledge, by the sons of Talaüs, and they then became the most mighty among the golden-haired Danai; and, once on a day, they led to seven-gated Thebes a brave host of men on a march attended by no happy omens; for the son of Cronus, by whirling his levin-bolt, urged them in their frenzy not to go forth from their home, but to abstain from the journey. And so that company was hastening to plunge into manifest doom, and, on the banks of Isménus, when they had laid down their longings for a happy return to their home, as blanched corpses they fed fat the smoke!; for seven funeral piles feasted on the limbs of the young men; but, for the sake of Amphiaraüs, Zeus, with his all-powerful thunder-bolt, clave asunder the broad breast of earth, and buried him with his steeds, before his warrior-soul could be dishonoured
by his being stricken in the back by the spear of Periclymenus. For, amid panics sent from heaven, even the offspring of gods betake themselves to flight. If it be possible, O son of Cronus, I would fain defer, as long as may be, this fierce arbitrament of empurpled spears, this contest for life and death, but I pray thee, O father Zeus, long to bestow on the men of Aetna the blessing of righteous laws, and to gladden the people by splendid celebrations in their city. There, as thou knowest, there are lovers of horsemanship, and heroes who have souls superior to wealth. My words are hard to believe ; for honour is secretly beguiled by greed, honour that bringeth renown. Hadst thou been shield-bearer to Chromius, amid footmen or horses, or in conflicts of ships, thou wouldest have marked the peril of keen conflict, because, in war, it was that honour divine who harnessed his warrior-soul to repel the onslaught of the god of battle. But few have the power of conspiring with hand and soul to turn back upon the ranks of the foe the rolling cloud of carnage at their feet; verily, for Hector did glory bloom beside the streams of Scamander, and, about the banks of the Helérus with their craggy cliffs, at the place which men
call the Passage of Rhea,’ this light hath dawned upon the son of Hagésidamus, in his earliest manhood ; and I shall tell of the honours he won at other times, many amidst the dust of dry land, and many on the neighbouring sea. But, out of labours undertaken with the aid of youth and right, there cometh a gentle life at the approach of eld. Let him know full well that he hath had wondrous bliss allotted him by the gods. For, if any man winneth famous glory, as well as goodly store of wealth, further than this it is no longer possible for a mortal to plant his feet on any higher eminence. But peace loveth the banquet, and a victor’s fame flourisheth anew by help of gentle song, and the voice waxeth brave beside the goblet. Let some one mix the wassail-bowl,—that sweet prompter of the triumph-song, and let him hand around the potent produce of the vine in those silver cups which the steeds erst won for Chromius, and sent to him, together with the duly twined garlands of Latona’s son, from holy Sicyon. O father Zeus, I pray that I may sound the praises of this deed of prowess by the favour of the Graces, and that I may excel many a bard in honouring victory by my verses, shooting my dart of song nearest of all to the mark of the Muses.
Cite This Text