Victory Odes quotes

But Phalaris, ruthlessly joying in rending Men’s lives from the tortured in brass glowing red, He is compassed with infamy’s hate unending, Nor lutes nor young voices in harmony blending In the hall of the casters his name shall greet.

Best of all is fair fortune; yet fame is sweet.

Who wins both, life’s chief crowns all meet To engarland his head.

What are we?—what not?—things in one day ending!

Man is a dream through shadows dimly seen.

But when a glory shines from God descending Then rests on men a sunbright splendour-sheen And life serene. Speed thou, Aegina, mother love-adored, This city on her voyage of freedom onward! May Zeus’ and Aiakus’ blessing lift her sunward, Peleus, Achilles, valiant Telamon ward!

sweetest, dearest To all his friends, to their hearts ever nearest. Nomeus, ‘flock-warder,’ Agreus, these shall name Thy son, as Aristaius those acclaim.” His words spurred on the God’s heart passion-thrilling To bring to pass the bridal’s sweet fulfilling.

Swift are the acts of Gods, and short their ways

Whose purposes to their fulfilment race. That selfsame day saw Love his goal attain; For in a golden chamber were the twain Made one, in Libya’s bower, whence she looks down On a fair city famed in athlete-rings.

For, O Thrasybulus, known from of old To the halls of thine ancient line Is the winsome charm of the song that leaps From the lips, as on the procession sweeps In triumph for victory—thine!

For not uphillward nor steep is the path, if the bard is fain to guide

The feet of the praises of Helicon’s Maids with famous men to abide. May song’s shaft sped from mine hand as far past all else fly As in sweetness of spirit unto Xenokrates none came nigh. Amidst of his townsmen ever a prince of courtesy,

Well know ye the fame Which Kleonymus won, as the old lay singeth How his chariot raced victorious. By the mother akin to the Labdakid Clan, they walked in the ways of wealth, and they trained With manifold toil the yoke of four.

But time with its onward-rolling days bringeth change upon change: unscarred, unpained

Are none but the Gods’ seed evermore.

Nor yet at the national contests failed they to ride the curved car; But they joyed in contending with all the Hellenes, in spending on steeds their treasure.

But unhonoured, unsung, is the man that spareth his might against others to measure.

Yea, even when champions in strife be contending, Till the end in uncertainty Her face Queen Fortune veileth; For triumph now giveth she And anon defeat; but at whiles in the ending The craft of the weaker prevaileth To cast to the earth the stronger.

But lo, he is honoured of Homer the wide world over, who set on high All knightly prowess of Aias; and his god-gifted poesy Hath taught the measure whereby all other bards must frame the lay:

For a noble song passeth down the years with a voice that liveth for aye,

And over the harvest-abounding earth, and across the sea for ever Goeth the sunbright shining of noble deeds, to be quenchèd never.

for he showeth in conflict’s toil The courage of roaring lions, and coupled therewith the fox’s guile Who lies on his back, so holding at bay the eagle’s swoop down-rushing.

So cunning and strength must alike be used for the adversary’s crushing.

For not by nature was this man dowered With Orion’s giant height; Mean was he to outward showing, But with iron-heavy might In the grapple his foe he overpowered.

Salamis in that ruin-tempest heaven-sent, When slaughter’s hailstorm did on myriads fall— Yet hush, O lips of mine, the vaunt irreverent!

Is not Zeus Lord of all?

He ordereth this and that. These late-won honours gladly hail Sweet song that hymns the victor’s joy. Now, whoso hears the tale

So he brings to his city glory, the weal of the whole state serving. He is loved for his kindness to strangers: the golden mean alway In purpose, the golden mean in action he follows unswerving.

His tongue is at one with his thoughts.

Amid athletes he is, thou canst say, As the Naxian stone that in grinding of bronze all other excelleth.

Or when thou didst set the feet of the Dorian Spartans again Firm in the ancient home, and when by a warrior-band, Even thy sons of the Aegeid House, was Amyklae ta’en Because they obeyed the Pythian oracle’s command?

But alas! it sleepeth, the olden glory,

And mortals forget the heroic story,

As onward I follow to taste the sweetness of this my day, And peacefully journey to eld and the bourne that Fate doth ordain For my life.

For we all must die: alike are we passing away,

Though our fortune be diverse. How far soever one’s gaze may strain, Too frail is man to attain to the heaven brazen-floored. Even so did wingèd Pegasus fling his earthly lord,

When Bellerophon fain would have winged his flight to the mansions on high, And have entered the glorious conclave of Gods with Zeus throned there.

Bitter the end is of pleasure attained unlawfully.

But to us, O Loxias, thou with thy glory of golden hair Ever blooming in youth, do thou with a gift of thy grace draw nigh, From Pytho’s contests on us bestowing A garland of bright flowers lovely-blowing.