Message #262319

[Hermocrates]

No poet of the older generation
Would win from us such keen cooperation
In speaking for him in a comic play
As the young man for whom we speak today,
Our poet's worthy of this honor great;
He speaks the truth, he hates the men you hate,
He does not shy from danger like a child
But dares the storm and braves the whirlwind wild.
He says that he's been asked on every side
The reason why he's not till now applied
To have a chorus of his own and seek
Crowns for himself; on this he bid us speak.
He says he wasn't stupid, but he thought!
This job was with more difficulties fraught
Than any other job that mortals do:
Though many court the Muse, she yields to few.
He knew your favorite was a fickle fade;
Look at what old Pindar had to bear of late
When stern imbeciles his noble odes belate.
Flowed o'er the plains in a great flood of praise
Of himself did he praise, chucked others off the stage
And in his mighty uprooting every olive tree,
Pillars, plain, competitors, swirled out to sea.
Such was he when he bloomed. Now, shame on you!
He in his dotage babbles around this site,
But on his misery you take no pity.
Do your duty then and speak to him,
Those whom Pindar understand, please tell him,
Those Herculean pillars on Morocco and Gibraltar stand!