Epinicians

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 283 sections

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Do not shoot a harsh arrow from your hands in vain against the souls of those who have perished. You have no need to fear. So he spoke. And the son of Amphitryon was astonished,
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and said, What god or mortal raised such a fine young plant as you? In what land? Who killed you? No doubt Hera with her beautiful belt will soon
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send that killer after me. But that must be the concern of golden-haired Pallas. And Meleager answered him, in tears, It is hard
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for men on earth to sway the minds of the gods;
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for otherwise my father, horse-driving Oineus, would have appeased the anger of holy, white-armed Artemis with her garland of buds,
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when he entreated her with sacrifices of many goats and red-backed cattle. But the maiden goddess' anger was unconquerable; she sent an immensely violent
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boar, a ruthless fighter, to Calydon, the place of lovely choruses; there, his strength raging like a flood, he cut down vine-rows with his tusk, and slaughtered flocks, and whatever mortals
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came across his path.
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We, the best of the Hellenes, fought hard to sustain the hateful battle against him, for six days continuously. But when some god gave the upper hand to the Aetolians,
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we buried those whom the loud-roaring boar had killed in his violent attacks: Ancaeus, and Agelaus, the best of my dear brothers, whom
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Althaea bore in the far-famed halls of Oineus.
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Ruinous fate destroyed For not yet did the hostile goddess, the savage daughter of Leto, [stop] her anger. We fought hard for the beast's fiery hide
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with the Couretes, steadfast in battle. Then I killed, among many others, Iphiclus and noble Aphares, my mother's swift brothers; for
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strong-spirited Ares does not discern a friend in battle—shafts fly blindly from the hands against the souls of the enemy, and bring death
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to whomever the god wishes.
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My mother, the hostile daughter of Thestius, did not take this into account; she brought about my evil fate, the fearless woman, and planned my destruction.
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She took the log of my swift doom out of the ornate chest, and burned it. Fate had marked off that this should be the boundary of my life. I happened to be slaying
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Clymenus, Daïpylus' valiant son, whose body was flawless; I had overtaken him in front of the towers. The others
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were fleeing to the well-built ancient city
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of Pleuron. And my sweet soul diminished; I knew that my strength was gone, aiai! I breathed my last breath in tears, as I left behind splendid youth.
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They say that was the only time that the son of Amphitryon, fearless in battle, ever wetted his eyes with tears, pitying the fate of the man who endured grief. And he answered him in this way:
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For mortals it is best never to be born,
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never to look on the light of the sun. But there is no profit in lamenting this; one must speak of what can be accomplished.
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Is there, in the halls of battle-loving Oineus, any daughter, unsubdued by love, whose appearance is like yours? I would gladly make her my splendid bride.
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And to him the soul of Meleager, steadfast in battle, answered: I left behind at home Deianeira, with her neck like a fresh olive; golden
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Cypris, charmer of mortals, is still unknown to her.
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White-armed Calliope, stop your well-made chariot right there. Sing of the Olympian ruler of the gods, Zeus son of Cronus,
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and the untiring stream of the Alpheus, and the strength of Pelops, and Pisa, where glorious Pherenicus won victory in the race with his feet, and returned to Syracuse with its fine towers,
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bringing to Hieron the leaf of good fortune. For the sake of truth we must give praise, pushing away envy with both hands,
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if any mortal man does well.
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A Boeotian man, Hesiod, attendant of the sweet Muses, said this: He whom the gods honor has a good name among men as well.
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I am easily persuaded to send to Hieron my illustrious voice, not from the path . For in this way the roots of fine fortune flourish; may the great father
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Zeus guard them, undisturbed, in peace.
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Lachon has won from greatest Zeus the best glory with his feet by the streams of the Alpheus [the victories] through which before
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Ceos rich in vines has been sung at Olympia as victorious in boxing and the foot race, by young men, luxuriant
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with garlands in their hair.
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And now by the will of Victory, the hymn of Ourania, ruler of song, honors you, wind-footed son of Aristomenes, in songs before your house,
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since by your triumph in the foot race you brought glory to Ceos.
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Shining daughter of Time and Night, the fifty [months have brought] you, sixteenth day of the month at Olympia by the will of
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to judge the speed of swift feet and preeminence in strength of limbs among the Greeks. The one to whom you give the most distinguished honor of victory is called glorious
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and much envied among men. You have adorned with garlands [the son] of Aristomenes, Lachon
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singing the praises of sheep-sacrificing Pytho, and Nemea and the Isthmus. I will make my boast, laying my hand on the earth—
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every debt of praise shines in the light of truth—no Greek, boy or man, has won more victories in his age-group.
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Zeus, whose spear is the thunderbolt, by the banks of the silver-whirling Alpheus may you also fulfill his prayers for great god-given glory, and place on his head a gray-green wreath
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of Aetolian olive in the famous games of Phrygian Pelops.
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Graces with golden distaffs, give fame, which moves the minds of men; for the divinely inspired prophet of the violet-eyed Muses is ready to sing the praises of Phlius and
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the flourishing plain of Nemean Zeus, where white-armed Hera reared the sheep-slaughtering, deep-voiced lion, the first of Heracles' far-famed labors.
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There the heroes with red shields, the best of the Argives, held games for the first time in honor of Archemorus, whom a fiery-eyed monstrous dragon killed in his sleep: a sign of the slaughter to come.
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Powerful fate! The son of Oicles could not persuade them to go back to the streets thronged with good men. Hope robs men [of their sense]:
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it was she who then sent Adrastus son of Talaus
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to Thebes to Polyneices The mortal men who crown their golden hair with the triennial garland from those glorious games in Nemea are illustrious;
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and now a god has given it to the victorious Automedes,
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for he stood out among the pentathletes as the shining moon in the mid-month night sky outshines the light of the stars.
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In such a way, amid the vast circling crowd of the Greeks, did he display his marvellous body, hurling the wheel-shaped discus, and raise a shout from the people as he flung the shaft of the dark-leaved elder-tree
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from his hand into the steep sky.
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He executed the flashing movement of wrestling, and brought strong-limbed bodies down to the earth with such high-spirited strength, then returned to the dark-whirling waters of the Asopus,
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whose fame has reached every land, even the farthest reaches of the Nile. And the women skilled with the spear who live by the fair-flowing stream of Thermodon, daughters of horse-driving Ares,
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have met with your descendants, much-envied lord of rivers, and so has Troy, the city of high gates. Countless reports of your offspring tread wide paths everywhere, of your daughters
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with shining belts, whom the gods established, with good fortune, as founders of cities that were never to be sacked.
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Who does not know the well-built city of dark-haired Thebes,
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or renowned Aegina, who went to the bed of great Zeus and bore the hero who the land of the Achaeans trials
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with beautiful robe
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and Peirene with her twisted garland, and as many other
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honorable daughters of the ancient resounding river who were overcome in the glorifying beds of gods. city victory the cries of flutes
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to speak well of golden, violet-haired Cypris, the glorious mother of unbending passions for mortals
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hymn
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even for one who is dead
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everlasting time, would always declare to later generations your victory at Nemea. A fine deed which attains genuine songs of praise is stored up on high with the gods.
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With the true remembrance of men, the finest adornment of the [deep-waisted] Muses is left behind even [after death].
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There are many of men; but the mind of the gods distinguishes
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what is hidden in the darkness of night and the better
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few men what will be.
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gave grace and Dionysus city honored by the gods to dwell
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golden-sceptered whoever takes a fine thing praise for the son of Timoxenos sing praises, with processions [of young men], for his victory in the pentathlon.
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Fame, you visit the races [of men?], and
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eyes peaceful respite now for him his sister's husband
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has moved the clear-voiced island bee
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so that the immortal ornament of the Muses will be at hand as a common joy for men, revealing your excellence to men on earth,
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by the will of Victory you have crowned your golden head with blossoms and brought glory to broad Athens and fame to the Oeneidae, when, in Poseidon's far-famed games,
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you displayed to the Greeks the swift surge of your feet.
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For when he reached the finish-line of the racecourse, breathing out a storm of hot breath, and again moistened the cloaks of the spectators with olive oil, rushing into the close-packed crowd
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when he rounded the fourth turn of the course, the spokesmen of the wise judges proclaimed him twice an Isthmian victor,
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and twice in Nemea, beside the sacred altar of Zeus son of Cronus.
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Glorious Thebes also welcomed him fittingly, and spacious Argos, and Sicyon, and those who dwell in Pellene, and in Euboea rich in grain, and on the holy
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island Aegina. Each man seeks a different path on which to walk to attain conspicuous glory; and the forms of knowledge among men are countless.
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Indeed, a man is skillful if he has a share of honor from the Graces
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and blooms with golden hope, or if he has some knowledge of the prophetic art; another man aims his artful bow at boys; others swell their spirits with fields and herds of cattle.
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The future begets unpredictable results: which way will fortune's scale incline? The finest thing is to be envied by many people as a noble man.
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I know also the great power of wealth,
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which makes even a useless man valuable. Why have I steered my song in its straight course so far off the road? Delight is appointed for mortals after victory of flutes
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mix must
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Victory, giver of sweet gifts—to you alone the father seated on high in golden Olympus,
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standing beside Zeus, you judge the achievement of excellence for immortals and mortals alike. Be gracious, daughter of Styx with her long hair, the upright judge. For your sake
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even now Metapontion, the city honored by the gods, is filled with delight and with victory processions of young men with fine limbs. They sing the praises of the Pythian victor, the marvellous son of Phaiscus.
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The Delos-born son of deep-waisted Leto received him with a propitious eye; and many garlands of flowers fell around Alexidamus on the plain of Cirrha
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because of his all-conquering powerful wrestling. The sun did not see him, on that particular day, falling to the ground. And I will declare that in the sacred precinct
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of revered Pelops, beside the beautiful stream of the Alpheus, if someone had not turned aside the straight path of justice, the gray-green olive for which all compete would have crowned his head
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as he returned to his fatherland, calf-nurturing Italy. [For down to the earth?] he brought the young man, by his crafty wits, in the the land of lovely choruses. But either a god was responsible, or else
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the wandering judgment of men took the highest honor out of his hands. But now Artemis of the wilds with her golden distaff, the Soother, famous for the bow, gave him shining victory.
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To her once the son of Abas and his daughters with beautiful robes set up an altar where many prayers are offered. All-powerful Hera drove these daughters in fear from the lovely halls

Perseus Greek. CTS URN tlg0199.tlg001.perseus-eng2. Via the Perseus Digital Library / Open Greek and Latin TEI corpora. Licence: Available under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Source.