Olympian

Pindar

Pindar. Arnson Svarlien, Diane, translator. Created for the Perseus Project, 1990.

he sings of your sacred grove, Pallas protector of the city, and of the river Oanis, and the local lake,
and the sacred canals with which Hipparis waters its people, and swiftly builds a tall-standing grove of steadfast dwellings, bringing this host of citizens out of helplessness into the light.
Always, when it is a question of excellence, toil and expense strive to accomplish a deed that is shrouded in danger; those who are successful seem wise, even to their fellow-citizens.
Savior Zeus, high in the clouds, you who dwell on the hill of Cronus and honor the wide-flowing Alpheus and the sacred cave of Ida! I come as your suppliant, singing to the sound of Lydian flutes,
entreating you to adorn this city with glorious hosts of noble men; and that you, Psaumis the Olympic victor, delighting in the horses of Poseidon, may carry on to the end a pleasurable old age
with your sons standing beside you. If a man cultivates both prosperity and health, being generous with his possessions and winning praise as well, let him not seek to become a god.

[*](On the two possible dates see C. M. Bowra, Pindar ( Oxford 1964), p. 409. ) Raising the fine-walled porch of our dwelling with golden pillars, we will build, as it were, a marvellous hall; at the beginning of our work we must place a far-shining front. If someone were an Olympic victor,
and a guardian of the prophetic altar of Zeus at Pisa, and a fellow-founder of renowned Syracuse, what hymn of praise would that man fail to win, by finding fellow-citizens ungrudging in delightful song?
Let the son of Sostratus know that this sandal fits his divinely-blessed foot. But excellence without danger
is honored neither among men nor in hollow ships. But many people remember, if a fine thing is done with toil. Hagesias, that praise is ready for you, which once Adrastus’ tongue rightly spoke for the seer Amphiaraus, son of Oicles, when the earth swallowed up him and his shining horses.
In Thebes, when the seven pyres of corpses had been consumed, the son of Talaus spoke in this way: “I long for the eye of my army, a man who was good both as a prophet and at fighting with the spear.” And this holds good as well for the man of Syracuse who is master of our victory-procession. Though I am not prone to quarrel, and not overly fond of victory,
I would even swear a great oath, and on this point at least I will clearly bear witness for him; and the honey-voiced Muses will give their consent.
Phintis, come now and yoke the strength of mules for me, quickly, so that we can drive the chariot along a clear path, and I can at last arrive at the race of these men.
For those mules above all others know how to lead the way along this path, since they have won garlands at Olympia, And so it is right to open for them the gates of song; and I must go today, in good time, to Pitana, beside the ford of Eurotas.
Pitana, who, it is said, lay with Poseidon son of Cronus,
and bore a child, violet-haired Evadne. But she hid her unwedded pregnancy in the folds of her robe. And in the appointed month she sent servants, and told them to give the baby to be tended by the hero, Aepytus son of Eilatus, who ruled over the Arcadians at Phaesana, and had his allotted home on the Alpheus,
where Evadne was raised, and first touched the sweets of Aphrodite beneath Apollo’s embrace.
She did not escape the notice of Aepytus in all the time that she was hiding the offspring of the god; no, he went to Pytho, pressing down the unspeakable anger in his spirit with intense concern, to consult the oracle about this unbearable disaster. And she laid down her purple and saffron girdle,
and her silver pitcher, and beneath a blue-shaded thicket gave birth to a god-inspired boy. The golden-haired god sent gentle-minded Eleithuia and the Fates to help her.
From her womb and her sweet birth-pangs Iamus came right away into the light. In her distress,