Pythian 4 lines 224-250

Pindar Pythian 4 – Arkesilas

by Pindar

Pindar, a Theban, was famous for his poetry in the period before and after the Persian Wars in the first half of the fifth century BCE. He wrote in many genres, but, by an accident of history, virtually all the poetry that survives complete celebrates victors in the Games at Olympia, Nemea, Delphi and the Isthmus of Corinth, who enjoyed enormous prestige throughout the Greek world.

Pindar, and this poem in particular, had influence on Roman poets including Horace and Catullus. It was commissioned in 462 BCE to celebrate the victory of Arkesilas, King of Cyrene, a Greek city in North Africa, in the chariot race at Delphi (he was the chariot’s owner, not the driver). The poem contains the first surviving version of the story of Jason and the Argonauts. Aeaetes is the King of Colchis, the location of the golden fleece. Jason has won over Medeia, the King’s daughter, with the help of a love-charm from Aphrodite, and it is thanks to the princess’s help that his mission will succeed. Pelias is the King of Iolchus, who has usurped his throne from Jason’s family and now, many years later, has challenged him to find and bring back the fleece.

When composed, the poem was sung to music, so no modern recitation will be fully authentic. Its Roman admirers, centuries on, would presumably have known it as a written or recited piece.

See more about Pindar on his poet page here; see what Horace said about him here; see the illustrated blog post here.

Metre: a lyric form known as dactylo-epitrite, in triads of three stanzas, two metrically identical and one different.

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Αλλ᾽ ὅτ᾽ Αἰήτας ἀδαμάντινον ἐν μέσσοις ἄροτρον σκίμψατο
καὶ βόας, οἳ φλόγ᾽ ἀπὸ ξανθᾶν γενύων πνέον καιομένοιο πυρός,
χαλκέαις δ᾽ ὁπλαῖς ἀράσσεσκον χθόν᾽ ἀμειβόμενοι,
τοὺς ἀγαγὼν ζεύγλᾳ πέλασσεν μοῦνος. ὀρθὰς δ᾽ αὔλακας ἐντανύσαις
ἤλαυν᾽, ἀνὰ βωλακίας δ᾽ ὀρόγυιαν σχίζε νῶτον
γᾶς. ἔειπεν δ᾽ ὧδε: ‘τοῦτ᾽ ἔργον βασιλεύς,
ὅστις ἄρχει ναός, ἐμοὶ τελέσαις ἄφθιτον στρωμνὰν ἀγέσθω,
κῶας αἰγλᾶεν χρυσέῳ θυσάνῳ.’
ὣς ἄρ᾽ αὐδάσαντος ἀπὸ κροκόεν ῥίψαις Ἰάσων εἷμα θεῷ πίσυνος
εἴχετ᾽ ἔργου: πῦρ δέ νιν οὐκ ἐόλει παμφαρμάκου ξείνας ἐφετμαῖς.
σπασσάμενος δ᾽ ἄροτρον, βοέους δήσαις ἀνάγκας
ἔντεσιν αὐχένας ἐμβάλλων τ᾽ ἐριπλεύρῳ φυᾷ
κέντρον αἰανὲς βιατὰς ἐξεπόνησ᾽ ἐπιτακτὸν ἀνὴρ
μέτρον. ἴϋξεν δ᾽ ἀφωνήτῳ περ ἔμπας ἄχει
δύνασιν Αἰήτας ἀγασθείς.
πρὸς δ᾽ ἑταῖροι καρτερὸν ἄνδρα φίλας
ὤρεγον χεῖρας, στεφάνοισί τέ νιν ποίας ἔρεπτον, μειλιχίοις τε λόγοις
ἀγαπάζοντ᾽. αὐτίκα δ᾽ Ἀελίου θαυμαστὸς υἱὸς δέρμα λαμπρὸν
ἔννεπεν, ἔνθα νιν ἐκτάνυσαν Φρίξου μάχαιραι:
ἤλπετο δ᾽ οὐκέτι οἱ κεῖνόν γε πράξεσθαι πόνον.
κεῖτο γὰρ λόχμᾳ, δράκοντος δ᾽ εἴχετο λαβροτατᾶν γενύων,
ὃς πάχει μάκει τε πεντηκόντορον ναῦν κράτει,
τέλεσαν ἃν πλαγαὶ σιδάρου.
μακρά μοι νεῖσθαι κατ᾽ ἀμαξιτόν: ὥρα γὰρ συνάπτει: καί τινα
οἶμον ἴσαμι βραχύν: πολλοῖσι δ᾽ ἅγημαι σοφίας ἑτέροις.
κτεῖνε μὲν γλαυκῶπα τέχναις ποικιλόνωτον ὄφιν,
ὦ Ἀρκεσίλα, κλέψεν τε Μήδειαν σὺν αὐτᾷ, τὰν Πελίαο φόνον …

But Aeetes pressed forward in their midst a plough of adamant, and oxen in which fire had been kindled, which breathed flame from their tawny jaws and churned up the ground with their brazen hooves, now one, now another, and all on his own Aeetes led them forward and forced them into the yoke-strap. And he drove them, stretching out long, straight furrows and clove into the loamy earth a fathom deep. And he said: “If your king, or whoever commands your ship, can do this deed for me, then let him take the deathless coverlet as his booty, the dazzling fleece with its golden tassel!” When he had spoken thus, Jason threw off his garment and, putting his faith in the God, set to the task. The fire had not engulfed him because of what Medeia his guest-friend, all-skilled in potions, had told him to do. Drawing up the plough, driving the necks of the oxen forcibly into the rig and forcing the unrelenting goad into the stocky flesh of their sides, Jason the man of force completed the allotted measure of work. Though he had no words to express his pain, Aeetes cried aloud in wonder at Jason’s might. Jason’s comrades stretched out loving hands to their staunch hero, decked him with crowns of leaves and celebrated him with honeyed words. And straight away the wondrous son of Helios told him about the shining hide, where the flaying-knives of Phrixos had spread it out, and he still had no expectation that Jason would pass through the trial. For it was lying in a grove and was kept by the jaws, as fierce as could be, of a dragon which outstripped in length and breadth a fifty-oared ship which the strokes of iron had crafted. It is a long way for me to go by the high road, but I know a short path, and I am ahead of many others in my craft. Jason killed the serpent with its green eyes and spotted back by stratagem, o Arkesilas, and with her own help stole away Medeia, the bringer of King Pelias’s death.

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More Poems by Pindar

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