THE FIRST OLYMPIC ODE. TO HIERO OF SYRACUSE, VICTOR IN THE HORSE RACE. CAN earth, or fire, or liquid air, O thou, my soul, whose choral song The circus of Olympian Jove; Whence borne on many a tuneful tongue, Over sheep clad Sicily Who the righteous sceptre beareth, Wove in various wreath he weareth,- Is the fairest flower of all; Which the bards, in social glee, Strow round Hiero's wealthy hall.The harp on yonder pin suspended, Sieze it, boy, for Pisa's sake, And that good steed's, whose thought will wake And earned the olive wreath of fame For that dear lord, whose righteous name Who loves the generous courser well: In Pelop's Lydian colony.— The youth an ivory shoulder bore. -Well, these are tales of mystery !— With men will easy credence gain; Can honor give to actions ill, Fall truest from posterity. But if we dare the deeds rehearse Of those that aye endure, 'T were meet that in such dangerous verse My song shall elder fables leave, And of thy parent say, That when in heaven a favored guest, Came golden-haired Ganymede, As bard in ancient story read, The dark-winged eagle's prey. And when no earthly tongue could tell Nor friends, who sought thee wide in vain, In distant hints, and darkly, said, That head was Lydia's lord. Yet, could not mortal heart digest And now, condemned to endless dread,- |