“The god authorizes every outcome on his own expectations–
the god who races the winged eagle,
Outdoes the sea-dwelling dolphin and
Brings the arrogant mortals to their knees,
And then grants unaging glory to other people.
I need to escape the gnawing bite of bad gossip–
I have watched from afar while Archilochus,
That shit-talker, is pressed to helplessness
Thanks to hateful words.
Getting rich with luck
Is the best allotment of wisdom.”
“A man who has done proper things,
Certainly forgets about Hades.”
Ἀίδα τοι λάθεται
ἄρμενα πράξαις ἀνήρ.
Schol. ad Pin. Ol. 8.72
“He certainly forgets about Hades.” For every man who has accomplished fitting things obtains forgetfulness of Hades by his own choice, and this in fact means death. For, I guess, this is naturally just the thought of those who are troubled: for this sort of thing is the fine action of a fantasy for those who do well.”
“Just as the Homeridae in fact,
Those singers who stitch songs together,
Begin with a prayer to Zeus
So too has this man welcomed the first of his victories
In the holy contests in the much-sung grove of Nemean Zeus.”
Just as the Homeridae”: They used to say in ancient times that the Homeridae were the descendants of Homer who used to sing his poetry in turns. But later on, the rhapsodes no longer attributed their lineage to Homer. But once the performers around Kynaithos became well-known—those ones who people claim composed many verses and inserted them into Homer’s poetry. Kynaithos’ was from Khios and he is said to have composed the Hymn to Apollo among those poems attributed to Homer. This Kynaithos was the first to sing the poems of Homer as a rhapsode among the Syracusians during the sixty-ninth Olympiad, as Hippostratus claims.
“In addition: The rhapsodes etymologize “rhapsodes” because they proceed through Homeric poetry with the rhabdos . Callimachus writes, “I am forever singing the story woven on a rhabdos as a received it…”
Other people claim that Homeric poetry was not brought together into one corpus, but that it was spread around and separated into pieces. When they would act as rhapsodes, they would make something like a series or a stitch as they brought it together into the same composition.
This is what Pindar means too. Some people claim that previously each of the competitors sang whatever part of the separated poem he wanted and that the prize for the victors was a lamb which is why the performers was called “lamb-singers” but that once each of the poems was introduced, the competitors would listen to one another’s parts and go through the whole poem, they were called rhapsodes. Dionysios the Argive claims these things. But Philokhoros says that they were called this from the collocation and stitching of song. Hesiod clearly writes: “Homer and I were then the first singers / who performed at Delos, stitching together song among the new hymns / for Phoibos Apollo, of the golden sword whom Leto bore”. Nikokles says that Hesiod was the first to rhapsodize. Menaikhmos records that rhapsodes were called stikhodes because rhabdoi are called stikhoi by some.
“Another version is this: the Homeridai were once the children of Homer and then later on the rhapsodes around Kunaithos. These are the people who remembered the Homeric poetry that had been scattered around and they performed it. But they totally ruined it. They always begin their poems by making a proem to Zeus. And sometimes the Muses.
Pindar, Paean, fr. 8a [=52i(A) P. Oxy. 841 (5, 1908)]
[She felt him] hurrying and her divine heart
Wailed with horrible groans
And she explained the reason
With words like this: So wholly…
Wide-browed son of Kronos–
You are bringing about the fated
Pain from when Hekabe [informed]
The Dardanian women when she
Was carrying this man in her body,
She believed that she would give birth
To a fire-breathing hundred-hander
One who would drag all Ilion
To the ground with his wicked [ways]
And she spoke [of him] [confessing]
The sign that came into her dreams
[shuddering in fear] at her foreknowledge.”
“Drinking toasts that stretch beyond reason bring
Pleasure for the moment but pain for all time.
The Spartan style is one of moderation:
To eat and drink with limits so people can still
Work and think. They don’t set apart a day
To soak the body with excessive drinking.”
“Pittacus’ saying doesn’t sound right
To me, even though spoken by a wise person.
He said it is hard to be good.
Only god can have that prize, it is impossible
For a human to not be bad,
When unalterable misfortune grips them.
When things are going well,
Anyone can be noble–
And anyone breaks bad in bad times.
And the people who are best?
They’re mostly the ones the gods favor.
That’s why I am not going to throw my life away
Searching out the impossible, an impractical
Empty hope–a person free of all fault,
Not a one of all those who eat the harvest of the broad earth
But if I find one, I will let you know.
For now, I praise all people who
Do nothing shameful willingly.
Not even the gods battle necessity.
I don’t love blame–it seems enough to me
For someone not to be evil, and not too untrustworthy
And to know something of the justice that keeps a city safe.
That’s a safe man–I will not fault
Him, since there’s no limit
To the parade of fools.
All things not completely mixed with shame,
Are fine indeed.”
“Pittacus’ saying doesn’t sound right
To me, even though spoken by a wise person.
He said it is hard to be good.
Only god can have that prize, it is impossible
For a human to not be bad,
When unalterable misfortune grips them.
When things are going well,
Anyone can be noble–
And anyone breaks bad in bad times.
And the people who are best?
They’re mostly the ones the gods favor.
That’s why I am not going to throw my life away
Searching out the impossible, an impractical
Empty hope–a person free of all fault,
Not a one of all those who eat the harvest of the broad earth
But if I find one, I will let you know.
For now, I praise all people who
Do nothing shameful willingly.
Not even the gods battle necessity.
I don’t love blame–it seems enough to me
For someone not to be evil, and not too untrustworthy
And to know something of the justice that keeps a city safe.
That’s a safe man–I will not fault
Him, since there’s no limit
To the parade of fools.
All things not completely mixed with shame,
Are fine indeed.”
“As I slept through the night
Under sea-purple blankets,
Stretched out, drunk,
I was dreaming I stretched out
Mid-run on a fast course,
On the very tips of my toes.
I was enjoying myself with the girls
But some boys younger
Than Luaios were mocking me,
Teasing me harshly,
Because of those pretty girls.
Then, they all ran away from my dream
When I reached out to kiss them.
They left me alone and poor me,
I only wanted to sleep again.”