ὦ φίλος, ἀλλὰ σὺ θᾶσσον ἔχ᾽ ἡνία φοινικόεντα
ἵππων ὠκυπόδων: μέγα δὲ φρεσὶ θάρσος ἀέξων
ἰθὺς ἔχειν θοὸν ἅρμα καὶ ὠκυπόδων σθένος ἵππων,
μηδὲν ὑποδδείσας κτύπον Ἄρεος ἀνδροφόνοιο,
ὃς νῦν κεκληγὼς περιμαίνεται ἱερὸν ἄλσος
Φοίβου Ἀπόλλωνος, ἑκατηβελέταο ἄνακτος:
ἦ μὴν καὶ κρατερός περ ἐὼν ἄαται πολέμοιο.
95-101 ‘Yet, come, friend, quickly take the red-dyed reins of the swift horses and raise high courage in your heart and guide the swift chariot and strong fleet-footed horses straight on. Have no secret fear at the noise of man-slaying Ares who now rages shouting about the holy grove of Phoebus Apollo, the lord who shoots form afar. Surely, strong though he be, he shall have enough of war.‘
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Introduction
