Chapter_19

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Songs, lords of the lyre! what God shall we hymn?⁠—what hero’s praises?⁠—

What man’s fame publish afar?

Pisa doth Zeus own; Heracles stablished Olympia’s races

With the regal spoils of his war;

Theron, who honours the guest, whose four steeds raced victorious,

Akragas’ stay, let us chant, full flower of an ancestry glorious,

His city’s saviour-star.

Toils bravely his fathers endured, and a hallowed home by the river

They reared: they were Sicily’s eye.

And to crown their inborn worth, Fair Fortune attended them, giver

Of wealth and of dignity.

Son of Kronos and Rhea, enthroned in Olympus, thou lord of the choicest

Of contests by Alpheus’ ford, guard, since in our song thou rejoicest,

For their sons ever graciously

Their fatherland-soil! When for right or for wrong hath been woven the tissue

Of our deeds, not Time the father of all can reverse the issue.

Yet oblivion may come of the past

With the dawn of a happier day; for overmastered and slain

By the sunlight of happiness oft is memory’s rankling pain,

When broad and high at the last

Prosperity grows by the fiat of God. Yea, of Kadmus’ daughters

This thing I have said proved true:⁠—

Sore anguish they suffered, yet mightier blessings from out the waters

Of affliction the stricken ones drew.

Mid thunder-crash Semele perished, yet lives in the heavenly star-land;

And Pallas and Zeus and her son, who is crowned with the ivy-garland,

Enfold her with love ever new.

With the Sea-maids, the daughters of Nereus, to Ino a life unending

In the deep is ordained for aye.

But to mortals no date is appointed whereon death’s bolt descending

Shall smite; nor can any man say

When one day, child of the sun, shall in calm peace close with unbroken

Blessing. With sorrow and joy run life’s streams, giving no token

How their mutable courses will stray.

So Destiny, she who the line of the fathers of Theron hath guided

To happiness, yet for their god-given bliss hath also provided

In its season a bitter reverse,

Since the hour when met in his journeying Laïus was, and killed

By his doom-driven son, and the word that from Pytho went forth was fulfilled,

The old-time prophecy-curse.

Swift Erinys beheld it, and slew by hands with a brother’s blood gory

His warrior sons. When died

Polyneikes, Thersander was left to win in a new war glory,

The Adrastids’ saviour and pride.

From him these trace their descent; and the son of a prince most meetly

With all praises of song triumphant and lyres outpealing sweetly

This day shall be magnified.

Olympia’s guerdon he won, and at Pytho and Isthmus the Graces,

Who his kindred have evermore blessed,

Brought to his brother the crowns of the twelve-course four-horse races.

Ay, triumph to pain bringeth rest.

Riches with nobleness graced of many things bring fruition,

And they kindle the deep-glowing fire of the huntress of honour, Ambition,

Within their possessor’s breast,

A lodestar that beacons afar, by whose light men steer most surely,

If he who doth hold by it knoweth what shall be⁠—that they which impurely

Here lived, shall when they have died

Suffer the penalty: sins that in Zeus’s realm of light

Were committed shall One judge there in the underworld Kingdom of Night,

And their awful doom shall decide.

But through sunlitten nights and days a life of bliss untoiling

Is ordained for the righteous-souled.

No more for a meagre pittance they labour the land sore moiling,

Nor on stormy seas are they rolled;

But with them that be honoured of Gods, who had pleasure in leal oathkeeping,

They have joy of a tearless life, while the wicked are endlessly reaping

Sin-harvests too dread to behold.

But they that through those three lives have endured, their spirits refraining

From sin upon each side death,

These traverse the pathway of Zeus, to the Tower of Kronos attaining,

Where the breezes of Ocean breathe

Round the Isles of the Blest, where flowers all-golden like flames are glowing,

Which are drooping from trees of splendour, or float on the flood soft-flowing;

And their heads and their hands they enwreathe,

As it standeth by just Rhadamanthus decreed, the eternal assessor

Of Kronos the husband of Rhea, of her who is throned possessor

Of dominion the universe o’er.

And Peleus and Kadmus are numbered amidst the glorified there;

And the heart of Zeus by Thetis’ petition was swayed, that she bare

Achilles to that blest shore,

Him who slew the invincible Hector, and Troy’s strong pillar did shiver,

And of whom was Kyknus slain

And the Dawn-queen’s Aethiop son. Many swift shafts lie in my quiver;

To the wise is their meaning plain;

For the common herd need they interpreters. Who is by nature discerning

Is the poet inspired; but the vehement babblers of other men’s learning

Croak vanity⁠—crows be the twain!⁠—

At the hallowed eagle of Zeus! O my soul, on the bow be thou aiming⁠—

And at whom in all love wilt thou speed

The renown-giving arrow? To Akragas send thou it, boldly proclaiming⁠—

Bidding Truth of thine oath take heed⁠—

That through years five-score no city on earth hath been known to rear on

Her breast any son more kindly in spirit to friends than Theron,

None of more liberal deed.

Yet praise is by spite ever dogged, wherein never is justice abiding,

But from grasping envy it springs; with its slanders it fain would be hiding

In darkness the good deeds done

By the noble of heart. But, as no man can number the great sea’s sands,

So the joys on his fellow-men showered by Theron with lavish hands,

Who telleth the tale of them? None!