Standalone HTML example for a strict triadic ode: paired strophe/antistrophe columns, narrower epodes, and optional scansion overlays.
Click a colon to pin its scansion note.
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Triad 1
Strophe 1
Antistrophe 1
My songs, lords of the lyre, awake || answer, and speak true now.Which god, which hero, which man || shall the hymn name and set in song?Zeus holds Pisa; Herakles || from war-spoil built these sacred games.
From battle spoil he founded, he ordained || race, altar, judges, crown.But Theron, chariot-four victor, || claims song; to him we turn.Guest-loving, Akragas' tower, he stands || choice bud of a high line.
Epode 1
Taut string, speak now and name him clear.Theron, whose house still flowers from old ancestral stock.
Triad 2
Strophe 2
Antistrophe 2
In hard soul-labor they stood out || Sicilia's watchful seeing eye.Beside the river, they kept the sacred house || and held the threshold clean.And fate drew on; by valour in their blood || wealth with delight came near.
Rhea's son, Kronios, who guards || Olympos, games, Alpheus' ford,for song's sake keep, in gentleness, their land || and all their future line.What's done, just or unjust, no Time the father || can ever leave undone.
Epode 2
Yet still good fortune sometimes brings forgetfulness.and grief, once quiet, can rise, then sink beneath abundance.
Triad 3
Strophe 3
Antistrophe 3
Grief, breaking out from quiet, dies at last || beneath fair fortune's weight.When God's decree lets wealth fall deep from heaven || and makes the burden sink.So speaks the story of Kadmos' daughters: || as goods wax, grief grows numb.
Semele, soft-haired, thunder-struck, lives still || on Olympos, loved of Zeus.By Pallas loved, and dearest to her son || who bears the ivy bough.They say Ino, deep with Nereus' daughters, gains || deathless life.
Epode 3
No mortal knows the fixed term set by death,when sun-child day may close in whole unbroken quiet.
Triad 4
Strophe 4
Antistrophe 4
Stream after stream of pleasures mixed with toil || comes down on mortal men.So Fate, father-guided to this line, || still bestows pain in turn.With wealth from God as well; later the blow || comes home to us again.
Thus Laios' destined son, once met, slew him || fulfilling old Pytho.The word long foretold there; and Erinys || looked on, and hated him.She cut the mighty race down, hand by hand, || in kindred blood and wrath.
Epode 4
After Polyneikes fell, Thersandros stood for honor.a living branch to shield Adrastos' house again.
Triad 5
Strophe 5
Antistrophe 5
From that same stock, Ainesidamos' son || may win lyre, praise, and hymn.He took Olympia's prize himself; || the garlanded strain is due.His brother, equal-born, the Graces crowned || at Pytho, Isthmos, twelve-lap race.
Success can wash the striver's striving clean || of strain and dust and ache.Wealth wrought with virtue opens many doors || to manifold deeds.It shoulders care's deep cruelty, and shines || star-bright, man's truest light.
Epode 5
Keep wealth, and know the coming judgment well.For under earth a judge still waits, severe.
Triad 6
Strophe 6
Antistrophe 6
Here, dying, the heart without curb || pays back old debts in vengeance.And for offences in God's realm below || a judge sits under earth.He gives sentence under wrath's constraint || hard, final, without pleading.
But nights forever equal, days alike || beneath one equal sun.They live without hard labor, troubling neither || earth nor sea for need.Beside the high gods, faithful souls rejoice || and live a tearless life.
Epode 6
The others face blank evil, featureless, mute.But thrice-enduring souls, from sin kept clear, go Kronos-ward.
Triad 7
Strophe 7
Antistrophe 7
There by Kronos' tower Ocean winds || blow across the Blessed Isle.Gold flowers burn on land, in trees; || the water feeds them too.From these they bind bright bracelets on their arms || and go garlanded, heads high.
Under Rhadamanthys' straight decrees || they walk beside the chair of state.Whom Rhea's husband, throned above them all, || keeps near, great father.There Peleus is, they say, and Kadmos too; || Achilles brought by softening prayer.
Epode 7
He felled great Hektor, Troy's unshaken prop,and killed Kyknos, and Memnon, child of Dawn, too.
Triad 8
Strophe 8
Antistrophe 8
Many keen shafts beneath my crooked arm || crowd close in quiver.They speak to understanding; most men still || need interpreters.The wise know much by nature in the blood; || the coarse learn from teachers.
They say whatever comes; they clack like crows || against Zeus' sacred bird.No inward measure guides them; drilled, they pose || as masters over all.Come then, my heart, draw to the mark; bend || the bow with gentler purpose.
Epode 8
Whom shall mild, merciful shafts now strike gently?Toward Akragas we bend, and swear a straight word.
Triad 9
Strophe 9
Antistrophe 9
No city in a hundred years gave forth || a freer, friendlier hand.No man more kind to friends, more open-handed, || has stood than Theron here.Yet envy rides on praise, though not with justice; || slander dogs noble deeds.
Reviling scandal would draw curtains round || fair deeds of noble men.But sand escapes all numbering; who can count || what Theron gave?What mortal tongue could take the full measure || of joy to others given?
Epode 9
Then let straight song answer back to envy.For where he gave delight, no measure holds.