STROPHE. And won them wives. That day, that night was sown In foreign soil the germ, with fate Instinct, of Libya's glittering state; Euphemus' race, that, planted then, hath greater ever grown; Whose children from their homes on Sparta's shore Spread to that isle, Callista named of yore. Thenceforth did Leto's son ordain, Your sway should bless the Libyan plain With sovereignty from heaven: for ye have found Counsels fraught with wisdom sound, 260 ANTISTROPHE. The golden-throned Cyrene's state to guide! Try now like Oedipus thy skill On riddles! When with keen-edged bill A woodman lops some mighty oak, and mars its leafy pride : E'en in decay it testifies its worth, Whether in flames it end on winter's hearth, Or, matched with comrade pillars tall, It prop a lordly palace wall, Painfully doomed in alien homes to toil, Banished from its native soil! EPODE. Grace to thee, apt healer of thy times, doth Paean lend, Duly with soothing touch each ulcerous wound to tend. For feebler hands a town may lightly shake; But hard indeed the task, once more Its tottering fabric to restore, 270 Save of its rulers Heaven the guidance take! Such task to thee hath Fate's fair web assigned, Then still for blest Cyrene's weal toil on with ready mind. STROPHE. Of all wise Homer's precepts, ponder thou This with the rest, "Good harbinger Doth grace on each behest confer." And sure, on righteous errand sped, Song's self doth nobler grow! Battus' proud palace knows it; with the youth 280 A very boy, yet every thought With a hoar century's wisdom fraught He silences the noisy tongue of spite, Schooled to loathe ungoverned might. ANTISTROPHE. Not his against the good in strife to rave, Or aught obstruct of Fate's sure plan: He knows Time stays not long for man, So waits on Opportunity, its follower, not its slave ! Yet his that sharpest pang,-at once to know The good, and yet perforce that good forego; Forth from his home, his country driven, He struggles, Atlas-like, with heaven. -But to the Titans gave great Zeus release, Sails may shift when tempests cease! 290 EPODE. Yet he prays, when to the dregs is drained his cup of ill, Give all his soul to joy ;-there, mid the throng Poetic of his townsmen, bear The carven lyre, their quiet share, And never more, or do, or suffer wrong! Then would he tell, what streams of deathless sound, PYTHIAN V. ON THE SAME VICTORY AS THE PRECEDING. A HYMN FOR THE TRIUMPHAL PROCESSION TO APOLLO'S TEMPLE AT CYRENE. STROPHE. POWER is Wealth's of wide extent, When mortals from the hand of destiny Thereto divine Arcesilas, In triumph mounting-who but he?— Of glorious life each proud degree, Yoked with sweet praise doth ever nearer come; By golden-charioted Castor's grace, That now with sunshine after storms makes bright his happy home. 10 ANTISTROPHE. Wise men wear with prudence meet The sovereignty that Powers of heaven bestow; And great the bliss that rings thy righteous feet : Supreme o'er many a mighty town. For in that honoured title most Standeth thy kinsmen's common boast, (And well therewith, thy wisdom's streams combine!) And next, to fill thy bliss, decked with renown From Pytho's course, and home arrived, this triumph train is thine, 20 EPODE. Such revel Phoebus loves! Then ne'er forget, As sounds thy praise round sweet Cyrene's grove, Before all else the helpful god to set, And of all friends Carrhotus most to love. Not he to cloke defeat hath brought Excuse, the child of Afterthought, To yon proud halls of Battid kings. But, by Castalia's springs A welcome guest, the chariot's crown Round thy triumphant locks hath thrown. STROPHE. Nor thy harness did he mar In twelve swift courses round the holy place : For all unbroken hangs the mighty car. Each plaited trace, Wherewith he flew past Crisa's hill, By hands of skilful workmen wrought 30 |