HIERO. On the death of Ge'lon, despot of Syracuse, a year after the battle of Him'era, the government fell into the hands of his brother Hi'ero, a man of great energy and determination. He founded the city of Ætna, of which PINDAR says: That city, founded strong In liberty divine, Measured by the Spartan line, Has Hiero 'stablish'd for his heritage; To whose firm-planted colony belong Their mother-country's laws, From many a distant age. He also added many cities to his government, and his power was not inferior to that of Gelon. The city of Cu'mæ, on the Italian coast, being harassed by the Carthaginians, the aid of Hiero was solicited by its citizens, and he sent a fleet which severely defeated and almost destroyed the squadron of their enemies. Says PINDAR of this event: That leader of the Syracusan host, With gallies swiftly-rushing, them pursued; And they his onset rued, When on the Cuman coast He dashed their youth in gulfy waves below, And rescued Greece from heavy servitude. Hiero was likewise a liberal patron of literature and the arts, inviting to his court many of the eminent poets and philosophers of his time, including Pindar, Simon'ides, Epichar'mus, Æs'chylus, and others; but his many great and noble qualities were alloyed by insatiable cupidity and ambition, and he became noted for "his cruel and rapacious government, and as the organizer of that systematic espionage which broke up all freedom of speech among his subjects." Although the eminent men who visited his court have much to say in praise of Hiero, Pindar, especially, was too honest and independent to ignore his faults. As GROTE says, "Pindar's indirect admonitions and hints sufficiently attest the real character of Hiero." Of these, the following lines from the Pythian ode may be taken as a sample: The lightest word that falls from thee, O King! Becomes a mighty and momentous thing: O'er many placed as arbiter on high, Many thy goings watchful see. Thy ways on every side A host of faithful witnesses descry; Then let thy liberal temper be thy guide. If ever to thine ear Fame's softest whisper yet was dear, Stint not thy bounty's flowing tide: Stand at the helm of state; full to the gale Spread thy wind-gathering sail. Friend! let not plausive avarice spread Its lures, to tempt thee from the path of fame: For know, the glory of a name Follows the mighty dead. --Trans. by ELTON.