ing in
sweet sounds, and look down upon this triumphal company, moving with
light step under happy fate. In Lydian mood of melody concerning
Asopichos am I come hither to sing, for that through thee, Aglaia,
in the Olympic games the Minyai's home is winner. Fly, Echo, to
Persephone's dark-walled home, and to his father bear the noble
tidings, that seeing him thou mayest speak to him of his son, saying
that for his father's honour in Pisa's famous valley he hath crowned
his boyish hair with garlands from the glorious games.

THE PYTHIAN ODES.

I.

FOR HIERON OF AITNA,

WINNER IN THE CHARIOT-RACE.

* * * * *
The date of this victory is B.C. 474

In the year 480, the year of Salamis, the Syracusans under Hieron had
defeated the Carthaginians in the great battle of Himera.

In 479 a great eruption of Etna (Aitna) began. In 476 Hieron founded,
near the mountain but we may suppose at a safe distance, the new city
of Aitna, in honour of which he had himself proclaimed as an Aitnaian
after this and other victories in the games.

And in this same year, 474, he had defeated the Etruscans, or Tuscans,
or Tyrrhenians in a great sea-fight before Cumae.

Pindar might well delight to honour those who had been waging so well
against the barbarians of the South and West the same war which the
Hellenes of the mother-country waged against the barbarians of the
East.

* * * * *

O golden Lyre, thou common treasure of Apollo and the Muses
violet-tressed, thou whom the dancer's step, prelude of festal mirth,
obeyeth, and the singers heed thy bidding, what time with quivering
strings thou utterest preamble of choir-leading overture--lo even the
sworded lightning of immortal fire thou quenched, and on the sceptre
of Zeus his eagle sleepeth, slackening his swift wings either side,
the king of birds, for a dark mist thou hast distilled on his arched
head, a gentle seal upon his eyes, and he in slumber heaveth his
supple back, spell-bound beneath thy throbs.

Yea also violent Ares, leaving far off the fierce point of his spears,
letteth his heart have joy in rest, for thy shafts soothe hearts
divine by the cunning of Leto's son and the deep-bosomed Muses.

But whatsoever things Zeus loveth not fly frighted from the voice of
the Pierides, whether on earth or on the raging sea; whereof is he who
lieth in dreadful Tartaros, the foe of the gods, Typhon of the hundred