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| Translation | Lines 160-183 (CHORUS) |
|---|---|
| Sommerstein (LCL) | Zeus — whoever he may be, if it pleases him to be so called, then I address him by that name: I have nothing to compare, though I weigh everything in the balance except Zeus, if one is truly to cast away the vain burden of anxiety. The one who was formerly great, swelling with proud confidence he could fight any foe, will now not even be spoken of as existing in the past; and he who was born later has met his conqueror, and is gone. One who gladly utters loud songs of victory to Zeus will score a perfect hit on the target of wisdom — Zeus who set mortals on the road to understanding, who made “learning by suffering” into an effective law. There drips before the heart, instead of sleep, the misery of pain recalled: good sense comes to men even against their will. This favour from the gods who sit on the august bench of command comes, one must say, by force. |
| Lloyd-Jones | Whoever Zeus may be, if this name is pleasing to him, by this name I address him. I can compare with him, measuring all things against him, none but Zeus, if from my mind the vain burden may be cast in sincerity. Not even he who in time past was great, abounding in boldness irresistible, he shall not even be counted, since he was of the past; and he who then came into being is gone, having met his victor in three falls. But he who gladly sings the triumph of Zeus shall hit full on the target of understanding: of Zeus who put men on the way to wisdom by making it a valid law that by suffering they shall learn. There drips before the heart instead of sleep pain that reminds them of their wounds; and against their will there comes discretion. There is, I think, a grace that comes by violence from the gods seated upon the dread bench of the helmsman. |
| Lattimore (Chicago) | Zeus: whatever he may be, if this name pleases him in invocation, thus I call upon him. I have pondered everything yet I cannot find a way, only Zeus, to cast this dead weight of ignorance finally from out my brain. He who in time long ago was great, throbbing with gigantic strength, shall be as if he never were, unspoken. He who followed him has found his master, and is gone. Cry aloud without fear the victory of Zeus, you will not have failed the truth: Zeus, who guided men to think, who has laid it down that wisdom comes alone through suffering. Still there drips in sleep against the heart grief of memory; against our pleasure we are temperate. From the gods who sit in grandeur grace comes somehow violent. |
| Fagles (Penguin) | Zeus, great nameless all in all, if that name will gain his favour [favor Bantam], I will call him Zeus. I have no words to do him justice, weighing all in the balance, all I have is Zeus, Zeus — lift this weight, this torment from my spirit, cast it once for all. He who was so mighty once, storming for the wars of heaven, he has had his day. And then his son who came to power met his match in the third fall and he is gone. Zeus, Zeus — raise your cries and sing him Zeus the Victor! You will reach the truth: Zeus has led us on to know, the Helmsman lays it down as law that we must suffer, suffer into truth. We cannot sleep, and drop by drop at the heart the pain of pain remembered comes again, and we resist, but ripeness comes as well. From the gods enthroned on the awesome rowing-bench there comes a violent love. |
| Campbell, prose (1893) | Zeus! — howsoever he be named; — assuming this to be the name that pleases him, I so address him. Scanning all powers, and weighing them together with my need, I find none other on whom to cast with full assurance the burden of vain cares — save Zeus alone.
Not he that aforetime was the Mighty One, abounding with all-daring violence, shall even be named, since his day is over. And he that rose up afterward, he too is gone, for he hath found his vanquisher. But they who call on Zeus with a zealous mind, and celebrate his victories, shall attain wisdom to the height, — Zeus who hath paved a way for human thought, by ordaining this firm law — ‘He learns, who suffers.’ In sleep there steals before the heart the pain of remembered grief, and submission comes to men who thought not of it. For this one ought to thank the Powers, who man resistlessly the dread rowing-bench above. |
| Campbell, verse (1890) | Zeus — by what name soe’er He glories being addressed, Even by that holiest name I name the Highest and Best. On Him I cast my troublous care, My only refuge from despair: Weighing all else, in Him alone I find Relief from this vain burden of the mind. One erst appeared supreme, Bold with abounding might, But like a darkling dream Vanished in long past night, Powerless to save; and he is gone Who flourished since, in turn to own His conqueror, to whom with soul on fire Man crying aloud shall gain his heart’s desire, — Zeus, who prepared for men The path of wisdom, binding fast Learning to suffering. In their sleep The mind is visited again With memory of affliction past, Without the will, reflection deep Reads lessons that perforce shall last, Thanks to the power that plies the sovran oar, Resistless, toward the eternal shore. |
| Blackie (1850) | Jove, or what other name The god that reigns supreme delights to claim, Him I invoke; him of all powers that be, Alone I find, Who from this bootless load of doubt can free My labouring mind. Who was so great of yore, With all-defiant valour brimming o’er, Is mute; and who came next by a stronger arm Thrice-vanquished fell; But thou hymn victor Jove: so in thy heart His truth shall dwell. For Jove doth teach men wisdom, sternly wins To virtue by the tutoring of their sins; Yea! drops of torturing recollection chill The sleeper’s heart; ‘gainst man’s rebellious will Jove works the wise remorse: Dread Powers, on awful seats enthroned, compel Our hearts with gracious force. |
| Buckley (1849) | Jove — whosoever he be, if this name be well-pleasing to him when invoked, by this do I address him; balancing all reasons, I am not able to make any further guess, except Jove, if in truth it behoves me to cast off the groundless burthen of anxiety. Nor can he who before was great, flourishing in unconquerable boldness say aught, as one that has passed away; and he who existed next has passed away, having found his third thrower. But any one that cheerfully celebrates Jove in songs of triumph shall completely attain to understanding; him that leads mortals the way to wisdom, that places knowledge upon suffering, firmly to remain. But e’en in slumber the pang of the memory of ills keeps dripping before the heart, and Wisdom hath come to the wayward. But ’tis a gift, I ween, of the divinities who sit severely on the awful bench. |
| Anon. [Blomfield?] (1822) | Jove, whosoever he is, if this is agreeable to him invoked, by this name I address him. I cannot hit on another name by comparing, having weighed all, save this of Jove, if in truth it is proper to cast off (αποβαλειν) a useless load of conjecture (or, thought). Neither he (i.e. Caelus) who was mighty heretofore, flourishing (or, abounding) in boldness ready to contend with all, can tell anything being before: and he (i.e. Saturn) who was next, is gone having met with a conquerer. But one cheerfully (or, readily) celebrating Jove in triumphal strains, shall altogether obtain wisdom: (i.e. judges rightly:) Jove who guides mortals in to the way of being wise, who causes them signally to have instruction by affliction. But grief from the recollection of ills drops even in sleep over the heart, and prudence comes even to the unwilling: but the reverence due to the Gods who sit on a dread seat is forced. |
| Potter (1777) | O thou, that sit’st supreme above, Whatever name thou deign’st to hear, Unblam’d may I pronounce thee Jove! Immers’d in deep and holy thought, If rightly I conjecture ought, Thy pow’r I must revere: Else vainly tost the anxious mind Nor truth, nor calm repose can find. Feeble and helpless to the light The proudest of man’s race arose, Tho’ now, exulting in his might, Dauntless he rushes on his foes; Great as he is, in dust he lies; He meets a greater, and he dies. He that, when conquest brightens round, Swells the triumphal strain to Jove, Shall ever with success be crown’d. Yet often, when to wisdom’s seat Jove deigns to guide man’s erring feet, His virtues to improve; He to affliction gives command To form him with her chast’ning hand: The memory of her rigid lore, On the sad heart imprinted deep, Attends him thro’ day’s active hour, Nor in the night forsakes his sleep. Instructed thus thy grace we own, O thou, that sit’st on Heav’n’s high throne! |