Then come antistrophe, and again strophe and antistrophe, but without the intervening epode, by which it is known that this was a processional ode. The poet weaves into his strain numerous allusions to myths which were in common acceptance, and fully understood by his hearers, and acclaimed forthwith. Needless, however, to be given here, although scholars still find interest in them. Pindar goes on to state how Maiden Athene fashioned the flute with its varied strain, and bestowed it on man, and concludes with this ANTISTROPHE. Through slender brass it flows, through many a reedy quill, That grew by the Graces town, for choral dance renowned, In nymph Cephisis’ hallowed haunts; true witness of the dancers’ skill. Ne’er, save by toiling, mortal aught of bliss hath found; But all that lacks in our brief day can destiny’s power supply, What fate ordains none may avoid; needs must a day befall Of chances unforeseen that spite of all Man’s scheming, part will grant, and part deny! So ends he, with the poet’s right to moralize, by which we may infer that our glorious Midas had to toil at the pipes, and practice some hours daily as the price of attaining his great renown. Pindar’s lines have been variously translated; one reading is thus given:— Through vocal vent its music flows, Of brass with slender reed combined, That near the festive city grows, Where with light steps the graces move, Marking the measured dance they wind In cool Cephisis’ flowery grove. That reads pleasantly; but what of this more stately flow in prose? When it passes through the slender brass and through the reeds, which grew near the city Charites, the city with beautiful places for the dance. How charmingly that lingers on the tongue, “the city with beautiful places for the dance.” When will it be so said of our great city? Is it a picture past praying for;—past hoping for?