O Pallas,*protector of cities, he has come
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from the beautiful dwellings of Pelops and Oenomaus,*
and he sings in praise of your sacred grove
and Oanos your river and its neighbouring lake,
and the holy channels through which the Hipparis*
brings water to your people.
Swiftly he constructs a lofty grove of well-built houses*
and leads your townspeople here from despair into the light.
Always, when men strive for excellence,
toil and expense struggle towards an accomplishment
in which risk lies concealed.
But the successful are judged to be wise,
even by their fellow citizens.
O saviour Zeus, high above us in the clouds,
inhabitant of the hill of Cronus,
you who honour broad-flowing Alpheus and Ida’s holy cave,*
to you I come as suppliant, accompanied by Lydian pipes,*
to beg you to adorn this city with a noble race of men,
and to ask that you, Olympic victor,
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delighting in the horses of Poseidon, may bring your old age to a serene end
with your sons, Psaumis, by your side.
If a man waters a healthy prosperity
and is content with a sufficiency of possessions,
and adds to this good repute,
he should not strive to become a god.
OLYMPIAN 6
For Hagesias of Syracuse, winner of the mule race
Golden are the pillars we shall set beneath the chamber’s well-made porch, | |
as if we were building a marvellous palace. | |
When a work is begun its outward face must be made to gleam afar; | |
and if a man should be victorious at Olympia, | |
and is a steward of the prophetic altar of Zeus*at Pisa, | |
and moreover a joint founder*of famous Syracuse— | |
how could such a man escape a celebratory hymn, | |
if he chances to live among townsmen | |
who do not stint their tribute of pleasing songs? | |
Let Sostratus’ son*know that this is the sandal | |
to which the heavenly powers have fitted his foot. | |
Success without labour is not honoured among men, | 10 |
either on land or in hollow ships; | |
but if noble deeds are accomplished through toil | |
many people remember them. | |
Men are ready to praise you, Hagesias, | |
as once Adrastus justly spoke out in praise of Amphiaraus,* | |
son of Oecles, when the earth swallowed him and his shining horses. | |
Later, when the corpses had been burnt on their seven pyres, | |
Talaus’ son spoke in Thebes as follows: | |
a man skilled as a seer and also as a spear-fighter.’ | |
This too can be said of the Syracusan master of this revel. | |
I am not disputatious, nor over-eager for victory, | 20 |
but I will swear a great oath and testify | |
that this is true, and the sweet-voiced Muses will bear me out. | |
Come, Phintis,*quickly yoke me the strong mules, | |
that I may drive my chariot on an open road | |
and arrive at this family’s true origin. These mules, | |
more than others, know how to take the lead on this road, for they have won crowns at Olympia. | |
We must therefore throw wide the gates of song for them | |
and come today in good time to Pitane,* | |
beside the waters of Eurotas.* | |
She it was, men say, who coupled with Cronus’ son Poseidon | |
and bore a daughter, Euadne of the violet-coloured hair. | 30 |
She concealed the fruit of her unwedded labour | |
by the folds of her dress, and in her birth-month | |
despatched her maids to Aepytus, the hero son of Eilatus,* | |
with orders to deliver the child into his keeping. | |
He was king of the Arcadians of Phaesane, | |
and had his allotted home beside the Alpheus. | |
Here Euadne was raised, and here she gave herself to Apollo | |
and first tasted the delights of Aphrodite. | |
But she could not hide the god’s seed from Aepytus for ever; | |
with painful self-control he thrust down in his heart | |
the anger he could not speak of, and went to Pytho | |
to consult the oracle concerning his intolerable grief. | |
Meanwhile she had laid aside her purple belt and silver jug, | 40 |
and in a dark copse began the birth of a son with the spirit of a god. | |
To help her, the golden-haired god*sent the Fates | |
and Eleithyia, giver of gentle counsel. | |
Without delay, in joyful birth-pangs | |
Iamus issued from her womb into the light. | |
In her distress she left him there on the ground, | |
but by the gods’ designs two grey-eyed snakes nurtured him, | |
feeding him on the blameless venom of bees. |