The antitheses are wrought with consummate skill; the fate of the heroes is glorious, their doom honorable. So far the eulogy is commonplace; then the same thought receives a bolder turn: their grave is an altar. We do not lament for them so much as hold them in eternal memory; our very songs of sorrow become pæans of praise. What follows is a still further expansion of the leading theme: rust and time cannot affect their fame; Hellas confides her glory to their tomb. Then generalities are quitted; and Leonidas, the protagonist of Thermopylæ, appears. In his threnoi Simonides has generally recourse to the common grounds of consolation, which the Ionian elegists repeat _ad nauseam_, dwelling upon the shortness and uncertainty and ills of life, and tending rather to depress the survivors on their own account than to comfort them for the dead.[102] In one he says, "Short is the strength of men, and vain are all their cares, and in their brief life trouble follows upon trouble; and death, that no man shuns, is hung above our heads--for him both good and bad share equally." It is impossible, while reading this lachrymose lament, to forget the fragment of that mighty threnos of Pindar's which sounds like a trumpet-blast for immortality, and, trampling under feet the glories of this world, reveals the gladness of the souls who have attained Elysium: For them the night all through, In that broad realm below, The splendor of the sun spreads endless light; 'Mid rosy meadows bright, Their city of the tombs with incense-trees, And golden chalices Of flowers, and fruitage fair, Scenting the breezy air, Is laden. There with horses and with play, With games and lyres, they while the hours away. On every side around Pure happiness is found, With all the blooming beauty of the world; There fragrant smoke, upcurled From altars where the blazing fire is dense With perfumed frankincense, Burned unto gods in heaven, Through all the land is driven, Making its pleasant place odorous With scented gales and sweet airs amorous. The same note of melancholy reflection upon transient human life may be traced in the following fragment ascribed to Simonides. He is apparently rebuking Cleobulus of Lindus in Rhodes for an arrogant epigraph inscribed upon some stelé. Those who are wise in heart and mind, O Lindian Cleobulus, find Naught in thy shallow vaunt aright; Who with the streams that flow for aye, The vernal flowers that bloom and die, The fiery sun, the moon's mild rays, The strong sea's eddying water-ways, Matchest a marble pillar's might-- Lo, all things that have being are To the high gods inferior far; But carven stone may not withstand Even a mortal's ruthless hand. Therefore thy words no wisdom teach More than an idiot's idle speech.