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And bold Belleroplion with speed won to his will the winged steed,

Binding that soothing spell his jaws around.

Mounting all mailed, his courser's pace the dance of war he taught to trace,

And, borne of him, the Amazons he slew,

Nor feared the bows their woman-armies drew,

Chimæra breathing fire, and Solymi,—

Swooping from frozen depths of lifeless sky.

Untold I leave his final fall!—

His charger passed to Zeus' Olympian stall."

Other legendary glories of Corinth find place in this Ode—the invention of the Aëtoma, an important feature in Greek architecture; the introduction of the Dionysiac festival, and of the Dithyramb which accompanied it; the prowess of Glaucus, king of Lycia, a descendant of Bellerophon; the tales of Sisyphus and Medea. And the poem ends with a long enumeration of Oligæthid victories, and anticipations of others yet to come. At Nemea and the Isthmus alone they had triumphed sixty times! Pindar's statement is positive; but he feels that it sounds incredible, and appeals for confirmation to the sworn heralds who had proclaimed these victories. Yet this was not all.

Well, ere now, my song hath told

Of their Olympic victories;

And what shall be, must coming lays unfold.

Yet hope have I,—the future lies

With Fate,—yet bless but Heaven still their line,

Ares and Zeus shall all fulfil! For, by Parnassus' frowning hill,

Argos, and Thebes, their fame how fair! And oh, what witness soon shall bear,