“Custom, the king of everything,
Of mortals and immortal alike,
Guides them with the final hand
To the most violent kinds of justice.
I’ll prove this
With the deeds of Herakles
Since he drove the cattle of Geryon
To the Cyclopean gates of Eurystheus
Unpunished and unpaid.
“But when a person comes around with sufficient nature, he shakes off and shatters all these things [laws], escaping them. He tramples all over our precedents and edicts, our pronouncements and all the laws that a contrary to his nature, and our slave rises up to become our master and clearly shows the justice of nature. This is what Pindar seems to indicate in that song when he says…”
“Custom, the king of everything,
Of mortals and immortal alike,
Guides them with the final hand
To the most violent kinds of justice.
I’ll prove this
With the deeds of Herakles
Since he drove the cattle of Geryon
To the Cyclopean gates of Eurystheus
Unpunished and unpaid.
“But when a person comes around with sufficient nature, he shakes off and shatters all these things [laws], escaping them. He tramples all over our precedents and edicts, our pronouncements and all the laws that a contrary to his nature, and our slave rises up to become our master and clearly shows the justice of nature. This is what Pindar seems to indicate in that song when he says…”
The famously troublesome opening lines of Pindar’s second Isthmian Ode turn on a contrast between past and present poetic practices. In the noble past, Pindar says, poets spontaneously composed their songs when passion moved them. In the degraded present, however, they produce commissioned work when the fee is right.
A scholiast supposed that Pindar’s condemnation of his poetic contemporaries was chiefly a condemnation of Simonides. This isn’t particularly convincing given that Pindar himself “worked on commission” for an assortment of tyrants, and the lines in question belong to a commissioned work!
I suspect there’s a tongue-in-cheek aspect to Pindar’s critique:
Isthmian Ode 2 (lines 1-10)
In the old days, Thrasyboulus,
Men mounted the gold-wreathed Muses’ chariot
To partake of the glorious lyre.
Effortlessly they let fly sweet-voiced hymns to boys,
Provided one were beautiful
And had that most agreeable ripeness
Which calls to mind gorgeously throned Aphrodite.
Back then, the Muse was not a lover of profit,
And neither was she a working girl.
Sweet-voiced Terpsichore, Muse of the gladdening dance,
Did not sell her sweet soft-toned songs,
Their bodies covered in silver.
But Nowadays, she says observe the Argive’s maxim
As it best approximates truth:
“Money, money makes the man,” he said,
As he lost his wealth and lovers at the same time.
(Note: “Their bodies covered in silver”: the phrase may mean something like “wholly commercialized,” “completely bought and paid for,” etc. In contemporary language we might say “covered in dollar bills” or something of the like.)
In the old days, Pindar wrote at least one of those “hymns to boys.” Ancient sources regarded the lyric as autobiographical–something, as it were, which arose “effortlessly” from authentic feeling.
But praise poems of this type were highly conventional; I’m disinclined to read the fine fragment 123 below as verse confession. I’m sympathetic to scholars who suspect that the lyric was, like the poetry of “nowadays,” commissioned and paid for by a patron.
Pindar Fr. 123: Encomium for Theoxenus of Tenedos, Son of Hagesilas
You must pluck love in season, my heart,
At the fit age. Yet, a man who sees the sparkling rays
of Theoxenus’s eyes but doesn’t swell with lust
Has a black heart, one forged in a cold flame
From iron or steel. Aphrodite’s slighted him,
She of the curving eyelids,
So he works like mad for money,
Or he’s enchained to the impudence of women
And led down an altogether frigid path.
But I, by the grace of the goddess,
Melt like sacred bees-wax stung by the hot sun
When I see the fresh young limbs of boys.
In Tenedos, it’s true, Persuasion and Charm
Dwell in the son of Hagesilas.
Greek Anthology, 15.9: Ἐγκώμιον εἰς Θεοδόσιον τὸν βασιλέα (by the Poet Cyrus)
[A praise-poem for the Emperor Theodosius]
“You bear all of *Aiakos’ grandson’s famous deeds
Except for his illicit love; you shoot like Teucer,
But you weren’t born a bastard; you have a gorgeous form
Like Agamemnon, but wine doesn’t make you insane.
I compare your understanding to divine Odysseus in every way,
But you abstain from evil tricks. And you pour out a honeysweet voice,
King, equal to that of the old **Pylian, but before
You witness time wearing out a third generation of men.”
Greek Anthology, 15.9: Ἐγκώμιον εἰς Θεοδόσιον τὸν βασιλέα (by the Poet Cyrus)
[A praise-poem for the Emperor Theodosius]
“You bear all of *Aiakos’ grandson’s famous deeds
Except for his illicit love; you shoot like Teucer,
But you weren’t born a bastard; you have a gorgeous form
Like Agamemnon, but wine doesn’t make you insane.
I compare your understanding to divine Odysseus in every way,
But you abstain from evil tricks. And you pour out a honeysweet voice,
King, equal to that of the old **Pylian, but before
You witness time wearing out a third generation of men.”