some kind of twilight, not total darkness, or they
could hardly have missed their eye.]

[Footnote 2: Athene.]

[Footnote 3: One of the Gorgons.]

[Footnote 4: A certain [Greek: nomos aulaetikos] was known by this
name.]

THE NEMEAN ODES.

I.

FOR CHROMIOS OF AITNA,

WINNER IN THE CHARIOT-RACE.

* * * * *

This Chromios was a son of Agesidamos and brother-in-law of Hieron,
and the same man for whom the ninth Nemean was written. He had become
a citizen of Hieron's new city of Aitna, and won this victory B.C.
473.

This ode seems to have been sung before his house in Ortygia, a
peninsula on which part of Syracuse was built, and in which was the
fountain Arethusa. The legend of Arethusa and Alpheos explains the
epithets of Ortygia with which the ode opens. The greater part of the
ode is occupied with the story of Herakles, perhaps because Chromios
was of the Hyllean tribe and thus traced his descent to Herakles.

* * * * *

O resting-place august of Alpheos, Ortygia, scion of famous Syracuse,
thou that art a couch of Artemis and a sister of Delos[1], from thee
goeth forth a song of sweet words, to set forth the great glory of
whirlwind-footed steeds in honour of Aitnaian Zeus.

For now the car of Chromios, and Nemea, stir me to yoke to his
victorious deeds the melody of a triumphal song. And thus by that
man's heaven-sped might I lay my foundations in the praise of gods. In
good fortune men speak well of one altogether: and of great games the
Muse is fain to tell.

Sow then some seed of splendid words in honour of this isle, which
Zeus, the lord of Olympus, gave unto Persephone, and bowed his hair
toward her in sign that this teeming Sicily he would exalt to be the
best land in the fruitful earth, with gorgeous crown of citadels. And
the son of Kronos gave unto her a people that wooeth mailed war, a
people of the horse and of the spear, and knowing well the touch of
Olympia's golden olive-leaves. Thus shoot I arrows many, and without
falsehood I have hit the mark.

And now at the doors of the hall of a hospitable man I stand to sing
a goodly song, where is prepared for me a friendly feast, and not
unwonted in that house are frequent stranger-guests: thus hath he
found good friends to pour a quenching flood on the mouldering fire of
reproach.

Each hath his several art: but in straight paths it behoveth him to
walk, and to strive hard