This ode is the earliest entire poem of Pindar's which survives. He
wrote it when he was twenty years old. The simplicity of the style and
manner of composition are significant of this. But there can scarcely
be said to be traces here of Pindar's early tendency in dealing with
mythological allusions to 'sow not with the hand but with the whole
sack,' which Korinna advised him to correct, and which is conspicuous
in a fragment remaining to us of one of his Hymns.

* * * * *

Happy is Lakedaimon, blessed is Thessaly: in both there reigneth a
race sprung from one sire, from Herakles bravest in the fight. What
vaunt is this unseasonable? Nay, now, but Pytho calleth me, and
Pelinnaion[1], and the sons of Aleuas who would fain lead forth the
loud voices of a choir of men in honour of Hippokleas.

For now hath he tasted the joy of games, and to the host of the
dwellers round about hath the valley beneath Parnassos proclaimed him
best among the boys who ran the double race[2].

O Apollo, sweet is the end when men attain thereto, and the beginning
availed more when it is speeded of a god. Surely of thy devising were
his deeds: and this his inborn valour hath trodden in the footsteps
of his father twice victor at Olympia in panoply of war-affronting
arms[3]: moreover the games in the deep meadow beneath Kirrha's cliff
gave victory to the fleet feet of Phrikias[4].

May good luck follow them, so that even in after days the splendour of
their wealth shall bloom. Of the pleasant things of Hellas they