Epinicians

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 283 sections

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of Proetus; she yoked their minds to a violent maddening compulsion. For, while still virgins, they entered the sanctuary of the purple-belted goddess,
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and said that their father far surpassed in wealth the golden-haired consort of holy, widely powerful Zeus. In anger at them, she put a twisted thought into their minds,
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and they fled to the wooded mountain with terrible screams, leaving behind the city of Tiryns and its god-built streets. For it was now the tenth year since the heroes with their bronze shields, fearless in battle,
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had left Argos, the city loved by the gods, and lived in Tiryns with their much envied king, because an insurmountable quarrel
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had arisen, from a slight beginning, between the brothers Proetus and Acrisius. They were destroying their people with lawless feuding and grievous battles, and the people entreated the sons of Abas
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that, since they had as their share a land rich in barley, the younger one should be the founder of Tiryns, before they fell under ruinous compulsion. And Zeus son of Cronus, honoring the race of Danaus
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and of horse-driving Lynceus, was willing to put an end to their hateful woes. And the mighty Cyclopes came, and toiled to build a most beautiful wall for the glorious city, where the godlike
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far-famed heroes lived when they had left behind horse-pasturing Argos. It was from Tiryns that the dark-haired unsubdued daughters of Proetus rushed in their flight.
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And woe overcame Proetus' heart, and an alien thought smote him. He decided to plant a double-edged sword in his chest; but his spearmen restrained him
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with calming words and with the force of their hands. For thirteen whole months his daughters roamed wildly through the shadowy forests and fled through sheep-nurturing Arcadia.
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But when their father came to the beautiful stream of Lusus, he washed his skin with its water and called on Leto's daughter with her crimson headdress, the ox-eyed goddess,
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stretching his hands to the rays of the steed-swift sun, and asked her to deliver his children from their deranged miserable madness. I will sacrifice to you twenty
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unyoked red oxen. And the huntress, whose father is the highest god, heard him praying. She persuaded Hera, and stopped the godless mania of the bud-garlanded girls.
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They built her a sanctuary and an altar right away, and stained it with the blood of sheep, and set up choruses of women. From there you accompanied battle-loving Achaean men to their horse-nurturing city;
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and with good fortune you dwell in Metapontion, golden mistress of the people. And a lovely precinct beside the fine waters of the Casas
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~ their ancestors established? ~ when at last, by the counsels of the blessed gods, they sacked the well-built city of Priam together with the Atreidae with their bronze breastplates. Whoever has a just mind will find,
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throughout all time, countless deeds of valor done by the Achaeans.
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Like a skillful helmsman, Clio , mistress of song, guide my thoughts now in a straight course, if you ever did before. For to the prosperous
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island of Aegina queenly Victory commands me to go, to my hospitable friends, and adorn the god-built city
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and the strong-limbed wrestling at Nemea
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friend
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in the competitions of the neighboring people. They were honored with celebrations for thirty splendid victories, some in [ Pytho,]
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others in the neck of Pelops' holy island, full of pine,
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others in the precinct of Nemean Zeus, god of brilliant lightning flashes these and at the silver-whirling [Alpheus?]
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Clio
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He shall stop them from arrogant violence, bringing about judgments of law for mortals:
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look how the descendant of Perseus brings his hand down heavily on the neck of the bloodthirsty lion with every type of skill!
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For the gleaming, man-subduing bronze refuses to pierce the lion's fearsome body; the sword was bent back. Someday, I prophesy,
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[in this place] there will be a strenuous toil for the Greeks, competing for garlands in the pancratium.
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beside the altar of Zeus, the greatest ruler, the blossoms of glory-bringing Victory
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nurture for men golden, conspicuous fame throughout their lives—for a select few—and when the dark cloud of death covers them,
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the undying glory of their fine deed is left behind, secure in its destiny.
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You too have attained this at Nemea, son of Lampon;
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your hair crowned with garlands of flourishing blossoms, [you walk] the lofty streets of the city [of Aeacus, so that] your ancestral island [teems] with gentle-voiced victory processions, in which mortals delight,
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revealing your overweening strength in the pancratium. Kindly Aegina, daughter of the whirling river,
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[the son of Cronus]
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gave you great honor, shining [your new victory?] like a torch among all Greeks. And a proud maiden [sings the praises of your strength?]
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often lightly springing with her feet like a carefree fawn on the flowery [hills]
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with her far-famed [companions] who live nearby.
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The maidens wear garlands of crimson blossoms and rushes, the native decoration, and sing of your [child],
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mistress of the all-hospitable [land], and of rosy-armed Endaïs, who bore [godlike Peleus] and the helmeted warrior Telamon, having gone to bed with Aeacus.
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Of their battle-rousing sons I shall sing, and of swift Achilles, and the high-spirited son of beautiful Eriboea, Aias, the shield-bearing hero,
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who stood on the stern of his ship and stopped bold-hearted, bronze [helmeted] Hector in his rush to burn the ships with dread fire,
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at the time when the son of Peleus stirred fierce wrath [in his breast]
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and released the [Dardanians from ruin]. Before they had not left the [many-towered]
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marvellous town of Ilium, but had cowered, dazed by fear, before the fierce battle, when Achilles raged destructively across the plain,
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shaking his murderous spear. But when the fearless son of the violet-garlanded Nereid withdrew from battle,
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—as when the North wind, on the dark-blossoming sea,
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afflicts the spirits of men beneath the waves, when it comes upon them as night begins, but it withdraws with the break of Dawn, who shines on mortals, and a gentle breeze smooths the sea;
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they billow their sail with the breath of the South wind, and eagerly reach unhoped-for dry land—
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in such a way, when the Trojans heard that the spearman Achilles
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was remaining in his tent because of the golden-haired woman Briseis with lovely limbs, they raised their arms to the gods, seeing a bright
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gleam from out of the storm. With all speed they left the walls of Laomedon and rushed onto the plain, bringing violent battle,
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and roused terror in the Danaans. Ares, god of the spear, urged them on, and Loxias Apollo, lord of the Lycians. And they came to the shore of the sea,
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and fought beside the ships with their fine sterns, and the dark earth ran red with the blood of men slain by the hand of Hector,
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heroes through the onslaught of godlike
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with great hopes, and arrogant shouts,
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the Trojan horsemen the dark-eyed ships the god-built city would have and feasts, in But before that could be they were doomed after all
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to redden with blood the whirling Scamander,
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dying at the hands of the tower-destroying [Aeacidae.] Of these, if or on a [pyre] piled high with wood
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for all-shining Excellence is not hidden and effaced in the lightless [veil?] of night,
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but always abounding in unfailing glory
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she roams the earth and the shifting seas. And truly she honors the fame-bringing [island] of Aeacus; she guides the state with garland-loving Eucleia
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and sound-minded Eunomia, to whom festivities belong, and who guards the cities of pious men in peace.
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Sing, young men, of the very glorious victory of Pytheas, and the helpful care of Menander, which often by the streams of the Alpheus has been honored by
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holy, great-spirited Athena of the golden chariot; before now she has garlanded the hair of countless men with crowns in the panhellenic contests.
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Let every man
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who is not bullied by bold-tongued envy praise the man who is skillful, as is just. All works of mortals are open to fault-finding. But truth tends
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to win the victory, and all-subduing time always [preserves] a fine deed. The [vain speech] of enemies diminishes, unseen
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warms the spirit with hope. With such hope I too, trusting in the [Muses] with their crimson headdresses,
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present a [crown] of songs, [of newly-combed wool],
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and honor the splendor-loving hospitality which [you], Lampon, [have provided] for me; may you not regard [my gift for your son] as slight. And if it truly is flourishing Clio who has distilled this gift in my [mind],
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songs filled with words of delight will proclaim him to all the people.
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To have a good allotment from the gods is the best thing for men. Fortune can destroy even a noble man, if she comes as a grievous burden,
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and can make a worthless man shine on high, if she works out well. Different people have different honors.
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There are countless forms of excellence among men, but one stands out among all of them:
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when a man has conducted whatever lies at hand with a just mind. The voice of the lyre and clear-sounding choruses do not harmonize with the deep griefs of battle,
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nor does the clang of clashing bronze with festivities. For every work of men [appropriateness] is the finest thing. When someone does well, a god [advances?] him too. In gratitude to Cleoptolemus,
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we must now sing of the precinct of Poseidon Petraios, and of the glorious son of Pyrrichus, victorious with his horses,
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who of hospitable and just
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Golden-throned Hestia, you who increase the great prosperity of the rich Agathocleadae, seated in the midst of city streets
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near the fragrant river Peneius in the valleys of sheep-nurturing Thessaly. From there Aristoteles came to flourishing Cirrha, and was twice crowned,
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for the glory of horse-mastering Larisa

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.