Victory Odes

For Hiero, ruler of Syracuse, on a victory won by his horse Pherenikus, 476 BC.

Strophe 1

Chiefest is water of all things, for streaming Therefrom all life and existence came; And all proud treasure of princes the gleaming Splendour of gold outshines, as the flame Of a great fire flings through the night its rays. But, heart of mine, if thou fain wouldst praise Triumphs in athlete-contests won, Search not, when day with his glory is glowing, For a radiant star more life-bestowing In the whole void sky, than the kingly sun. Even so shall we find no brighter crown Than Olympia giveth whereof to sing; For thence doth the chant of high renown O’er the spirits of bards its perfume fling, When, the praise of Kronion in song resounding, Unto Hiero’s blest hearth wealth-abounding The hymn of his praise they bring.

Antistrophe 1

Antistrophe 3

Hippodameia, the glorious daughter Of the Lord of Pisa, a prize for him Who could win her. Alone by the surf-white water Of the sea he stood in the darkness dim. To the Thunder-voiced he cried o’er the wave, To the Lord of the Trident mighty to save: And lo, at his side did the God appear. And “O Poseidon,” he spake imploring, “If the gifts of the Cyprian Queen’s outpouring To thy spirit, O King, be in any wise dear, His bronze lance let not Oenomaus lift To mine hurt, but cause me to Elis to ride On a god-given chariot passing swift: There throne thou me by victory’s side. For lovers by that spear merciless-slaying Have died thirteen, and he still is delaying To bestow his child as a bride.

Epode 3

In the path doth a mighty peril lie; To the craven soul no welcome it gives. But, seeing a man must needs once die, Wherefore should I unto old age screen From peril a life that only lives, Sitting nameless and fameless in darkness unseen, In the deeds of the valiant never sharing? Nay, lies at my feet the challenge now: I will accept it for doing and daring! Good speed to mine heart’s desire grant thou!” Not fruitless the cry of his heart’s desiring Was uttered. The God heard gracious-souled, And crowned him with honour. Winged steeds untiring He gave, and a chariot of gold.

Strophe 4

Antistrophe 4

At the last was he come, a hero of wondrous-mighty frame; With lances twain that quivered in his iron grasp he came. And twofold vesture arrayed him; the garb of the Magnete folk To his goodly limbs close-lapping clung; but tossed like a cloak O’er his shoulders a pard’s fell screening from arrowy showers lay. From the glory of his bright tresses nought had been shorn away, But unminished, a rippling splendour, adown his back they shone. With feet unfaltering straightway and swiftly strode he on, And he stood, as one that proveth a spirit of peril uncowed, In the midst of the place of folkmote filled with its thronging crowd.

Epode 4

And no man knew him; but awestruck they gazed, and one spake word: “Of a surety is this not Apollo, nor Aphrodite’s lord Of the chariot of brass! And Otus, and Ephialtes thou The dauntless, in gleaming Naxos perished long ere now, Ye sons of Iphimedeia; nor Tityos could outrun The arrow as lightning leaping the heart of the quarry that won, Which Artemis out of her quiver invincible sped, that man Might be warned to grasp not at dalliance beyond our mortal span.”

Strophe 5

Strophe 3

Then Hera the gold-enthroned marked well where the babe mid his saffron swaddlings lay; And the Queen of the Gods, with anger stung, two serpents against him sent straightway. Into the chamber, when opened its portal, they slid, those servants of hate immortal, Ravening-eager to coil their swiftly-darting jaws round the children twain. But Heracles straightway uplifted his head, and was first to essay the battle-strain,

Antistrophe 3

And of either serpent he gripped the throat in the hands wherefrom escape there was none, Till the breath of life from their monstrous frames was breathed as the feet of time stole on. But the arrow of horror soul-overpowering smote the maids round the bed of Alkmena cowering. Yea, even she from her couch of the night had leapt of her tunic disarrayed, And with weak woman-hands to beat the monsters’ tyrannous onslaught back she essayed.