Victory Odes

Τι κερδίζεις ρισκάροντας μια ζωή στην αφάνεια;

In the path doth a mighty peril lie;To the craven soul no welcome it gives.But, seeing a man must needs once die,Wherefore should I unto old age screenFrom peril a life that only lives,Sitting nameless and fameless in darkness unseen,In the deeds of the valiant never sharing?Nay, lies at my feet the challenge now:I will accept it for doing and daring!Good speed to mine heart’s desire grant thou!”Not fruitless the cry of his heart’s desiringWas uttered. The God heard gracious-souled,And crowned him with honour. Winged steeds untiringHe gave, and a chariot of gold.

Χωρίς τραγούδι, ακόμη κι ο άθλος ξεχνιέται.

Even so, Agesidamus, when from emprise nobly wroughtA man descendeth all unsung to mansions of the dead,Scant pleasure all his toil hath won, his breath was spent for nought.But upon thee the sweet-voiced lyre and dulcet flute have shedThe grace of all their winsomeness: like some wide-spreading treeBy those Zeus-born Pierian Maids thy fame shall fostered be.

Πού τελειώνει η φιλοδοξία και πού αρχίζει η έπαρση;

To chant a triumph than all more sweet,Inspiration-wafted, as one that fliesIn a chariot, on paths of utterance meet,Till I win unto Kronos’ Hill sunbright.O yea, in my Muses’ quiver liesA song-arrow winged for stronger flight.By diverse paths men upward aspire:Earth’s highest summit by kings is attained.Thou therefore look to attain no higherThan earth. Be it thine on the height thou hast gainedTo pace mid splendour of royal achievingThy life through: mine be it no less longTo consort with victors, from Hellas receivingThe world o’er praise for my song.