Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE SECOND OLYMPIQUE ODE OF PINDAR, by ABRAHAM COWLEY


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THE SECOND OLYMPIQUE ODE OF PINDAR, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Queen of all harmonious things
Last Line: Is equally impossible.
Subject(s): Olympic Games


1.

QUEEN of all Harmonious things,
Dancing Words, and Speaking Strings,
What God, what Hero wilt thou sing?
What happy Man to equal Glories bring?
Begin, begin thy noble choice,
And let the Hills around reflect the Image of thy Voice.
Pisa does to Jove belong,
Jove and Pisa claim thy Song,
The fair First-Fruits of War, th' Olympique Games,
Alcides offer'd up to Jove;
Alcides too thy strings may move;
But, oh, what Man to joyn with these can worthy prove?
Joyn Theron boldly to their sacred Names;
Theron the next honour claimes;
Theron to no man gives place,
Is first in Pisa's, and in Virtue's Race;
Theron there, and he alone,
Even his own swift Fore-fathers has out-gone,

2.

They through rough ways, o'er many stops they past,
'Till on the fatal bank at last
They Agrigentum built, the beauteous Eye
Of fair-faced Sicilie,
Which does it self i' th' River by
With Pride and Joy espy.
Then chearful Notes their Painted Years did sing,
And Wealth was one, and Honor th' other Wing.
Their genuine Virtues did more sweet and clear,
In Fortune's graceful dress appear.
To which great Son of Rhea, say
The Firm Word which forbids things to Decay.
If in Olympus Top, where thou
Sit'st to behold thy Sacred Show,
If in Alpheus silver flight,
If in my Verse thou dost delight,
My Verse, O Rhea's Son, which is
Lofty as that, and smooth as this.

3.

For the past Sufferings of this noble Race
(Since things once past, and fled out of thine hand,
Hearken no more to thy command)
Let present joys fill up their Place,
And with Oblivion's silent Stroke deface
Of foregone Ills the very Trace.
In no illustrious Line
Do these happy Changes shine
More brightly Theron than in thine.
So in the Crystal Palaces
Of the blue-ey'd Nereides,
Ino her endless Youth does please,
And thanks her Fall into the Seas.
Beauteous Semele does no less
Her cruel Midwife Thunder bless,
Whilst sporting with the Gods on high,
She 'enjoys secure their Company,
Plays with Light'nings as they fly,
Nor trembles at the bright Embraces of the Deity.

4.

But Death did them from future Dangers free,
What God (alas) will Caution be
For living Man's Security,
Or will ensure our Vessel in this faithless Sea?
Never did the Sun as yet
So healthful a fair Day beget,
That travelling Mortals might rely on it.
But Fortune's Favour and her Spight
Roll with alternate Waves like Day and Night.
Vicissitudes which thy great Race pursue,
E'er since the fatal Son his Father slew,
And did old Oracles fulfil
Of Gods that cannot lie, for they foretel but their own Will.

5.

Erynnis saw't, and made in her own Seed
The innocent Parricide to bleed,
She slew his wrathful Sons with mutual Blows;
But better things did then succeed,
And brave Thersander in amends for what was past arose.
Brave Thersander was by none
In War, or warlike Sports out-done.
Thou Theron his great Virtues dost revive,
He in my Verse and thee again does live,
Loud Olympus happy thee,
Isthmus and Nemea does twice happy see.
For the well-natur'd Honour there
Which with thy Brother thou didst share,
Was to thee double grown
By not being all thine Own.
And those kind pious Glories do deface
The old Fraternal Quarrel of thy Race.

6.

Greatness of Mind and Fortune too
Th' Olympique Trophies shew.
Both their several Parts must do
In the noble Chase of Fame,
This without that is blind, that without this is lame.
Nor is fair Virtue's Picture seen aright,
But in Fortune's golden Light.
Riches alone are of uncertain Date,
And on short-Man long cannot wait.
The Virtuous make of them the best,
And put them out to Fame for Interest.
With a frail Good they wisely buy
The solid Purchase of Eternity.
They whilst Life's Air they breath, consider well and know
Th' Account they must hereafter give below.
Whereas th' Unjust and Covetous above,
In deep unlovely Valuts,
By the just Decrees of Jove
Unrelenting Torments prove,
The heavy Necessary Effects of Voluntary Faults.

7.

Whilst in the Lands of unexhausted Light
O're which the God-like Sun's unwearied Sight,
Ne'er winks in Clouds, or sleeps in Night,
A endless Spring of Age the Good enjoy,
Where neither Want does pinch, nor Plenty cloy,
There neither Earth nor Sea they plow,
Nor ought to Labour owe
For Food, that whil'st it nour'ishes does decay,
And in the Lamp of Life consumes away.
Thrice had these Men though Mortal Bodies past,
Did thrice the Trial undergo,
'Till all their little Dross was purg'd at last,
The Furnace had no more to do.
Then in rich Saturn's peaceful State
Were they for sacred Treasures plac'd,
The Muse-discovered World of Islands Fortunate.

8.

Soft-footed Winds with tuneful Voices there
Dance through the perfum'd Air.
There Silver Rivers through enamell'd Meadows glide,
And golden Trees enrich their side.
Th' illustrious Leaves no dropping Autumn fear,
And Jewels for their Fruit they bear.
Which by the Blest are gathered
For Bracelets to the Arm, and Garlands to the Head,
Here all the Hero's, and their Poets live,
Wise Radamanthus did the Sentence give,
Who for his Justice was thought fit
With Sovereign Saturn on the Bench to sit.
Peleus here, and Cadmus reign,
Here great Achilles wrathful now no more,
Since his blest Mother (who before
Had try'd it on his Body' in vain)
Dipt now his Soul in Stygian Lake,
Which did from thence a divine Hardness take,
That does from Passion and from Vice Invulnerable make.

9.

To Theron, Muse, bring back thy wandring Song,
Whom those bright Troops expect impatiently;
And may they do so long.
How, noble Archer, do thy wanton Arrows fly,
At all the Game that does but cross thine Eye?
Shoot, and spare not, for I see
Thy sounding Quiver can ne'er emptied be;
Let Art use Method and good Husbandry,
Art lives on Nature's Alms, is weak and poor;
Nature her self has unexhausted store,
Wallows in Wealth, and runs a turning Maze,
That no vulgar Eye can trace.
Art instead of mounting high,
About her humble Food does hov'ring fly,
Like the ignoble Crow, Rapine and Noise does love,
Whilst Nature, like the sacred Bird of Jove,
Now bears loud Thunder, and anon with silent Joy
The beauteous Phrygian Boy,
Defeats the Strong, o'ertakes the Flying Prey;
And sometimes basks in th' open Flames of Day,
And sometimes too he shrowds
His soaring Wings among the Clouds.

10.

Leave, wanton Muse, thy roving Flight,
To thy loud String the well-fletch'd Arrow put,
Let Agrigentum be the But,
And Theron be the White.
And lest the Name of Verse should give
Malicious Men pretext to misbelieve.
By the Castalian Waters swear
(A sacred Oath no Poets dare
To take in vain,
No more than Gods do that of Styx prophane)
Swear in no City e'er before,
A better Man, or greater-soul'd was born,
Swear that Theron sure has sworn
No Man near him should be poor.
Swear that none e'er had such a graceful Art,
Fortune's free Gifts as freely to impart
With an unenvious Hand, and an unbounded Heart.

11.

But in this thankless World the Givers
Are envy'd ev'n by the Receivers.
'Tis now the cheap and frugal Fashion,
Rather to hide than pay the Obligation.
Nay 'tis much worse than so,
It now an Artifice does grow,
Wrongs and Outrages to do,
Lest Men should think we owe.
Such Monsters, Theron, has thy Virtue found,
But all the Malice they profess,
Thy secure Honour cannot wound:
For thy vast Bounties are so numberless,
That them or to Conceal, or else to Tell,
Is equally Impossible.





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