[Footnote 6:  Snakes.]

[Footnote 7:  Or ‘on vile things feed.’]

IV.

For Timasarchos of Aigina,

Winner in the boys’ wrestling-match.

* * * * *

The date of this ode is unknown:  we can only infer, from the way in which Athens is spoken of, that it was written before the war between that state and Aigina.  It seems to have been sung on the winner’s return home, very likely in a procession through the streets.

* * * * *

Best of physicians for a man’s accomplished toil is festive joy:  and the touch of songs, wise daughters of the Muses, hath power of comforting.  Less doth warm water avail to bathe limbs for soothing than words of praise married to the music of the lyre.  For speech is longer-lived than act, whensoever by favour of the Graces the tongue hath drawn it forth out of the depth of the heart.

Be it the prelude of my hymn to dedicate it to Zeus the son of Kronos, and to Nemea, and to the wrestling of Timasarchos; and may it have welcome in the Aiakids’ stronghold of goodly towers, the common light of all, which aideth the stranger with justice[1].

Now if thy sire Timokritos were still cheered by the quickening sun, full oft with music manifold of the lute would he have bent him unto this my theme, and sounded a hymn for the fair triumphs that have brought thee a chain of wreaths, even from the games of the Kleonaians[2] now, and erewhile from the bright and famous Athens, and at seven-gated Thebes:  for beside Amphitryon’s splendid sepulchre the sons of Kadmos nothing loth sprinkled the winner with flowers for Aigina’s sake.  For thither as a friend to friends he came, though to a city not his own, and abode in the fortunate hall of Herakles.

With Herakles on a time did mighty Telamon destroy the city of Troy, and the Meropes, and the man of war, the great and terrible Alkyoneus, yet not until by hurling of stones he had subdued twelve four-horse chariots, and horse-taming heroes twice so many thereupon.  Unversed in battles must he be who understandeth not this tale, for whoso will do aught is like to suffer also.

But to tell the tale at length custom forbiddeth me, and the constraining hours:  and a love-spell draweth me to put forth my hand to the feast of the new moon.

Albeit the deep brine of the sea hold thee even to thy waist, nevertheless bear bravely up against conspirings; assuredly shall we shine forth above our enemies as we sail home in open day; while another man of envious eye turneth about in darkness an empty purpose that falleth to the ground.  For me I know certainly that whatsoever excellence Fate that is our lord hath given me, time creeping onward will bring to its ordained fulfilment.

Weave then this woof too presently, sweet my lute, a strain with Lydian harmony that shall be dear to Oinone[3], and to Cyprus, where Teukros, son of Telamon, holdeth rule in a new land.