Πιερίδων προφάταν, Musarum sacerdos: Pindar's Sixth Pæan und Horace's Third Book of Odes

or, Horace as a Pindaric Poet

Disclaimer: This is meant as a post for a niche audience of fellow classicists. Any Greek or Latin text that appears in the body of the essay is thus left untranslated: ut linguam teneas unicast lectio continua!

Novem vero Lyricorum longe Pindarus princeps spiritus magnificentia, sententiis, figuris, beatissima rerum verborumque copia et velut quodam eloquentiae flumine; propter quae Horatius eum merito credidit nemini imitabilem.

Of the nine lyric poets, Pindar is far and away the leader in terms of grandeur of spirit, thought, figures of speech, and the most blessed abundance of things and words, as though by a certain flood of eloquence; for which reason Horace justifiably believed that no one could imitate him.

— Quintilian, Institutio Oratoria 10.1.61

Wenn er die Pfeile ein übern andern nach dem Wolkenziel schiest steh ich freylich noch da und gaffe; doch fühl ich indess, was Horaz aussprechen konnte, was Quintilian rühmt, und was tätiges an mir ist lebt auf da ich Adel fühle und Zweck kenne.

When he shoots arrows one after another at the target in the clouds, I indeed still stand here and gaze; yet I feel, as Horace could express, what Quintilian praises, and that which is active within me is enlivened when I sense nobility and understand purpose.

— Goethe, Letter to Herder (1772)

At the beginning of Ode 4.2, Horace comments on the inimitability of Pindar’s style: Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari, / Iulle, ceratis ope Daedalea / nititur pinnis, uitreo daturus / nomina ponto (Carm. 4.2.41-43). This concise bon mot may, when considered in isolation, be accurate. However, what is remarkable is the immediate incorporation of myth—an element characteristic of Pindar—to illustrate not only Pindar’s preeminent and unsurpassable position among canonical lyric poets but also Horace’s implicit confession of his own inadequacy. The doomed flight of Icarus is, however, in the overall context of Horace's Odes, by no means to be taken as a serious admonition to aspiring Pindar imitators to desist from such efforts, but rather as a conventional topos of modesty: For Horace must first present himself as an epigone, as a σκιὰ Πινδάρου, in order to even dare to attempt to follow the heights of his poetic achievements. That this passage is to be understood as a recusatio—and thus as a covert confession of Horace’s imitation of Pindar, which he undertakes particularly in the subsequent odes is widely accepted. That traces of Pindar can be heard in Horace’s Odes, as Horace himself reveals with slight self-irony in the recusatio, is no new insight; however, the fact that Pindar’s influence is not only scattered throughout the Fourth Book but is also traceable in the First Book is noteworthy. J.H. Waszink, in Horaz und Pindar, in: Antike und Abendland B. 12 (1966), p. 111-24. succinctly summarizes characteristics of Pindar imitation as follows:

Elements consciously imitating Pindar include: first, a freer sentence structure, with often strikingly long sentences in which, frequently to increase suspense, the subject is placed as far as possible towards the end of the sentence; secondly, a block-like composition, with often rather abrupt transitions between the various parts of the poem; and finally, the gradual incorporation of historical narratives, usually leading to a core maxim or gnomic statement at the end, which expresses the essential content of the poem in the most succinct form.

While these criteria are apt, a significant disadvantage is that the majority of analyses (with few exceptions) focus solely on the influence of the Epinikia, rather than the entire corpus of Pindar’s work. This does not imply that the Epinikia had a greater influence on Horace, but only that their relatively intact transmission compared to the fragmented papyrus remains and citations of, among others, the Dithyrambs and Paianes, allows for such an analysis. This elevated status of the Epinikia among Horace’s Pindaric sources, granted mainly by their preservation, is contradicted, in my opinion, even by Horace himself, immediately after the recusatio in the Pindar ode. Horace’s preference for certain genres or at least stylistic directions in his emulation of Pindar may be inferred from his categorization of Pindaric genres (Carm. 4.2.10ff) - which, for example, does not classify them by their addressees but rather by the sense and effect each genre achieves. This reveals two things: first, which characteristics of Pindar’s style Horace most admires and thus seeks to emulate, and second, that as a poeta doctus—substituting the term vatis docilis —he was indeed familiar with the achievements of the “constantly quarreling … book critics” in Alexandria, from whose “cage” he metaphorically liberates the emaciated Muses, glorifies them, and finally incorporates them into his own poetic creation. If Horace read Pindar’s Dithyrambs with the eyes of an Alexandrian scholar, he likely also examined Pindar’s Paianes and their related matters.

Pindar Fr. 122 and Horace Carm. 1.19: On Extra-Epinician Influence and Its Characteristics

Whether the comparison criteria established so far, using the Epinikia and the odes, can be applied to those odes that certainly have no victory hymn as a model remains to be seen. However, having outlined the epinician influence on the odes and the interpretive pitfalls of an analysis limited to the Epinikia, we turn next to a rather straightforward ode, which, due to its purely cultic-festive content, surely has no victory hymn as its model, namely Ode 1.19 and its Pindaric counterpart, Fr. 122. A cursory examination of the points of contact and differences in content and style will help us establish additional criteria by which the poetic approach of Horace, the flower-gatherer, and the role of extra-epinician influence can be identified.

First, let us consider the content of Horace’s emulation in Ode 1.19. The first aspect of the extra-epinician emulation in this ode, which we must note, is the marked emphasis on the lyrical I, which I will term poeta loquens. In Fr. 122, each actor is given a distinct voice, clearly separate from that of the poet:

ὑµῖν ἄνευθ’ ἐπαγορίας ἔπορεν,
ὦ παῖδες, ἐρατειναῖς <ἐν> εὐναῖς
µαλθακᾶς ὥρας ἀπὸ καρπὸν δρέπεσθαι

Without a herald’s call,
O youths, to the charming grove,
pluck the fruit of soft season
from the tender boughs.

Whereas Horace disempowers the actors, allowing them to function as mouthpieces for the poet, who is prominently featured:

urit me Glycerae nitor
splendentis Pario marmore purius,
urit grata protervitas
et uultus nimium lubricus aspici.

The radiance of Glycera burns me,
purer than gleaming Parian marble;
I am burned by her pleasing wantonness
and by her excessively slippery gaze.

The fact that Horace can be associated with both the main character and the poet of Fr. 122 aligns well indeed with Horace’s assumption of both roles in Ode 1.19.

The privileging of the poet and his role as an instance of poetic omnipresence can be interpreted, on one hand, as a compensatory gesture of a self-assured epigone, as a symptom of the derivative literature’s ‘anxiety of influence’ in Harold Bloom’s sense of the term. On the other hand, it can also be seen as an inevitable consequence of the fundamentally different performance practices and cultic-festive customs that both poets had to adhere to in presenting their works to the public.

The second aspect that emerges from the latter is the expanded range of actions granted to the poeta loquens, which I will term poeta agens. Pindar merely describes the sacrificial act:

ὦ Κύπρου δέσποινα, τεὸν δεῦτ’ ἐς ἄλσος
φορβάδων κορᾶν ἀγέλαν ἑατόγγυι-
ον Ξενοφῶν τελέαις
ἐπάγαγ’ εὐχωλαῖς ἰανθείς.

O Mistress of Cyprus, come to the grove,
bring the flock of virgin lambs
and Xenophon's completed rites
with vows, blooming.

In contrast, Horace presents himself as the initiator of the ritual:

hic vivum mihi caespitem, hic
verbenas, pueri, ponite turaque
bimi cum patera me.

Here, boys, place for me a living sod,
here, sprigs, and a double libation with a dish.

In both poems, the speakers are removed from the act of sacrifice itself: Pindar merely describes the event, while Horace directs and commissions it.

Having outlined the features of the content emulation, let us now turn to Horace’s use of Pindaric language, imagery, and the influence on the function of the ode within the First Book. Overall, Horace in this ode employs similar techniques to those used in the Epinikian-influenced odes with few significant modifications. These include, for instance, the highlighting and incorporation of particularly vivid images or passages, such as Pindar’s στάλαν θέμεν Παρίου λίθου λευκοτέραν (N.4, v. 81) and Horace’s response, Pario marmore purius; Pindar’s ἰανθείς (or is it just a topos? cf. Backh. Dith. 17, 130-3) and Horace’s me urit, sometimes maintaining certain structures: for example, both poets personally address the sacrificers (νεανίδες, pueri) and place the completion of the sacrificial act at the end. Regarding the function of Ode 1.19 in the First Book, Pindar plays a special role: Ode 1.12, which opens the lyrical parade—and by referring to the opening verses of Ode 2.2: τίνα θεόν, τίν᾽ ἥρωα, τίνα δ᾽ ἄνδρα κελαδήσομεν; (“Which god, which hero, which man shall we sing?”)—marks itself as a Pindaric pillar and is closed by a sort of ring composition by Ode 1.19, also indicated by a reference to an Epinikion.

Such a ring composition, marked by a reference to Pindar, is indeed not limited to the macro-compositional level but also manifests at the micro-level of the individual ode: an especially successful example of such a ring composition in Ode 3.1 will be demonstrated in the final section.

Now that we have established the necessary criteria for the adequate analysis of extra-epinician influence, namely the categories of poeta loquens and poeta agens, and briefly described the expanded poetological scope they allow, we turn our attention to the influence of the Sixth Paean on Ode 4.6. This examination will not only validate the aforementioned aspects of poeta loquens and poeta agens in the emulative character of extra-epinician odes but also provide a clear view of the performance conditions and the impact of ritual and practice on the poetics of both poets.

Paean VI and Ode 4.6: The Aims of the poeta loquens and poeta agens

In the Sixth Paean, Pindar announces in a prayer to Pytho that he has come to Delphi to lead the chorus for the Panhellenic festival of the Theoxenia. By doing so, he aims to present himself as an intermediary between the world of the gods and that of mortals. His goal is to assert the moral and religious unity of the Hellenes, which otherwise, as described in Fr. 109b (ὥσπερ … βατράχους περὶ τὴν θάλατταν οἰκοῦντας), is often expressed through sacrifices to local deities (τῷ προσήκοντι θεῷ). Toward the end of Ode 4.6, there are some literal borrowings from the opening verses of the Paean, yet they still reflect particular features of Horace’s emulation. Thus, we should address the aspect of Pindaric influence in Ode 4.6. Like Ode 4.6, Ode 4.6 highlights the lyrical I (4.6.29-30; 41-4), this time even through a kind of spragidion: spiritum Phoebus mihi, Phoebus artem/ carminis nomenque dedit poetae; nupta iam dices ‘ego dis amicum’,/ saeculo festas referente luces,/ reddidi carmen, docilis modorum/ vatis Horati. The special status of the poet that Horace explicitly expresses here is not present in the Sixth Paean but is already hinted at through Pindar’s appeal to Aphrodite and the Charites: Πρὸς Ολυμπίου Διός σε χρυ[σέ]α /κλυτόμαντι Πυθοῖ,/λίσσομαι Χαρίτεσ-/σί⟨ν⟩ τε καὶ σὺν Άφροδίτᾳ … This continued presence of the poet derives from the poet’s voice in the original text.

Now, a few words on the aspect of poetic activity: Horace, acting as chorodidaskalos, emphasizes the steps he has taken to reconcile or harmonize two opposites—both on a thematic and choreographic level (Virginum primae puerique claris / patribus orti). This increased activity on the part of Horace as the choragus is primarily due to the independence of his poetry, which is freed from the distinction between occasion (ritual) and independence that underlies the composition and performance of archaic works like Pindar’s Paeans.

Now that we have dedicated attention to the two main aspects of Horace’s extra-epinician emulation of Pindar, as well as the cultic and performance-practical foundations that condition or enable them, we turn to the details of the borrowings from the Sixth Paean in Ode 3.1. Here again are the texts for comparison:

Pindar, Paean VI, 1-11

Πρὸς Ολυμπίου Διός σε χρυ[σέ]α
κλυτόμαντι Πυθοῖ,
λίσσομαι Χαρίτεσ-
σί⟨ν⟩ τε καὶ σὺν Άφροδίτᾳ,
ἐν ζαθέῳ με δέξαι χρόνῳ
ἀοίδιμον Πιερίδων προφάταν.
ὕδατι γὰρ ἐπὶ χαλκοπύλῳ
ψόπον ἀΐων Κασταλίας
ὀρφανὸν ἀνδρῶν χορεύσιος ἦλθον
ἔταις ἀμαχανίαν ἀλέξων
τεοῖσιν ἐμαῖς τε τιμαῖς

Horace, c. 3.1, 1-5

Odi profanum vulgus et arceo;
favete linguis: carmina non prius
audita Musarum sacerdos
virginibus puerique canto.

Horace, c. 4.6, 29-37

Spiritum Phoebus mihi, Phoebus artem
carminis nomenque dedit poetae.
Virginum primae puerique claris
patribus orti,
nupta iam dices ‘ego dis amicum,
saeculo festas referente luces,
reddidi carmen,
docilis modorum
vatis Horati.’

Before analyzing the opening verses of Ode 3.1 in relation to the Sixth Paean, we should focus on the similarities between Ode 4.6 and 3.1, as this comparison will further support the idea that the Sixth Paean must have served as a model not only for Ode 4.6, but also for 3.1. In Ode 4.6, for example, the poet's special status is emphasized explicitly: mihi … nomenque poetae dedit (30); in 3.1, this emphasis is even sharper: carmina non prius audita … canto (ego!)—all others must be silent (favete linguis, scil. εὐφημεῖτε: cf. κλῦτε νῦν in Paean VI, v. 8) during the recitation of the “never-before-heard material” (non prius audita). In Ode 4.6, the focus is on Virginum primae puerique claris / patribus orti (31-2), just as in 3.1 virginibus puerisque (4). Lastly, in Ode 4.6, the poet is mentioned by name for the first time: Docilis vatis Horati (36-7), while in Ode 3.1, he is introduced with the priestly title Musarum sacerdos. It is not unlikely that in Ode 4.6, Horace is referencing his Ode 3.1 published around 23 BC, or deliberately varying his Pindaric model in light of his first emulation. Regardless, let us now turn to the sixth Paean and Ode 3.1.

In his first Roman Ode, Horace establishes a ring composition linking two Pindaric στῆλαι: μαθόντες δὲ λάβροι / παγγλωσσίᾳ, κόρακες ὥς, ἄκραντα γαρύετον / Διὸς πρὸς ὄρνιχα θεῖον (O.2, 83-6) and Ode 3.1,1; χρυσέας ὑποστάσαντες εὐτειχεῖ προθύρῳ θαλάμου / κίονας, ὡς ὅτε θαητὸν μέγαρον / πάξομεν: ἀρχομένου δ᾽ ἔργου πρόσωπον / χρὴ θέμεν τηλαυγές (O.6, 1-4) and Ode 3.1, 44-5, as he did on the level of the overall composition of the first book.

Let us now say a few words about the almost proverbial line Odi profanum vulgus. In explaining Horace’s poetics, it is often noted that he relates his creative process to that of Callimachus, particularly as discussed in his σικχαίνω πάντα τὰ δημόσια (Epigram 28,4)—an approach that, while undoubtedly a useful interpretive guide in Horace’s Odes, seems misplaced in this case. For although Horace may disdain the common people, his disdain does not extend to the point of fearing that some ordinary poet might rob him of his own Lysanian role as sacerdos Musarum; more importantly, this rejection does not preclude addressing the vulgum. Thus, it is loathed because it can only chatter away (μαθόντες δὲ λάβροι παγγλωσσίᾳ, κόρακες ὥς) and hence requires an informed interpreter (ἐς δὲ τὸ πὰν ἑρμηνέων χατίζει). Although this phrase may be Callimachean in origin, its function is Pindaric.

According to this secular (or at least de-sacralized) prayer, Horace highlights the divine omnipotence of Jupiter, revered by all Romans, in order to reinforce his auctoritas as a priest of the Muses, as a mediator between man and God on the vertical plane, and among Roman citizens of different origins, reputations, and ranks on the horizontal plane, much like Pindar (Πρὸς Ολυμπίου Διός σε χρυ[σέ]α /κλυτόμαντι Πυθοῖ). Furthermore, the mention of Jupiter’s omnipotence, especially when read through the lens of the Sixth Paean and its political context, can be seen as symbolic of the dawning Roman world dominance. This significance is not lost on Horace.

Horace then proceeds, in a manner typical of him, through a priamel listing the most influential and esteemed figures of Roman political life (landowners, magistrates), who, despite their differing origins, rank, and reputation, are all subject to the law of necessity, which strikes equally at the humble homes of the poor and the towers of kings (c.1,4). While Pindar illustrates the Panhellenic unity with the conflicting myths of Achilles and his son Neoptolemus killed by the sword, Horace contentedly uses the peculiar pairing of the Damocles myth and the gentle farmer’s dream, before eventually praising the Roman virtue of frugalitas (desiderare, quod satis est), which is to be observed by rulers and subjects alike, thereby bringing to consciousness the moral unity of all Romans¹.

Good Artists Copy; Great Artists Steal

Now, let us turn to the details of the partial literal borrowings from the sixth Paean in the first five verses:

Pindar: λίσσομαι … με δέξαι
Horace: canto

The sacred function of the poem in Pindar, along with the associated prayer formula, is absent in Horace’s imitation. Reflecting the increased activity of the poetae agentis, the humble supplication λίσσομαι … με δέξαι — for λίσσομαι see Il. 1,15: στέμματ᾽ ἔχων ἐν χερσὶν ἑκηβόλου Ἀπόλλωνος/ χρυσέῳ ἀνὰ σκήπτρῳ, καὶ λίσσετο πάντας Ἀχαιούς … and Sappho, fr.1: ποικιλόθρον’ ἀθανάτ’ Ἀφρόδιτα,/ παῖ Δίος δολόπλοκε, λίσσομαί σε,/ μή μ’ ἄσαισι μηδ’ ὀνίαισι δάμνα. Furthermore, Agis Marinis writes in Pindar’s Sixth Paean: Conceptualizing Religious Panhellenism, in: in Athina Kavoulaki (ed.), Πλειών, Papers in Memory of Christiane Sourvinou-Inwood, Herakleion, (p. 148): “Λίσσομαι is a verb denoting a praying attitude which is not connected, as a rule, with the offering of a gift: it is a marked term for a prayer usually uttered when the worshipper is in a precarious position, sometimes when there is not even time for a formal prayer. It involves, as in the case of supplication between humans, a strong sense of dependence on the supplicated party” — becomes a simple yet strong canto. Horace does not present himself as a supplicant but rather, confident in his poetic skill, stands on his own.

Pindar: ἐν ζαθέῳ με δέξαι χρόνῳ
Horace: non prius audita…

With the removal of the prayer formula, the ἐν ζαθέῳ…χρόνῳ (in the sacred time — again Marinis writes (p. 149-50): “As Motte points out, the Greek festivals relate to a ‘sacred order of time’ that does not ‘belong’ to mortals but is linked to immovable cosmic cycles and for this reason calls for respect” — is also omitted. It is replaced by a different, more open and free temporal indication (non prius audita), primarily serving to further highlight the poet’s personality through the uniqueness of his material.

Pindar: Πιερίδων προφάταν
Horace: Musarum sacerdos

What is the significance of this “never-before-heard song” and its connection to the “priest of the Muses”? On one hand, it is merely a continuation of his Pindaric poetics, as Horace, for the first time in Latin literature, explicitly adopts the title Musarum sacerdos (comparable formulations are found only sporadically, e.g., in Georg.3.22-23, Ov. Am. 3.8.23). This title directly acknowledges his emulation of Pindar. Thus, the carmen of the Musarum sacerdos must per se be something never heard before! On the other hand, this “never-before-heardness” can be explained by the special status of this ode among the seven Roman Odes. With this Ode, Horace aims to intertwine the essence of the res publica, explicitly discussed in the Roman value-pareneses 3.2-6, and that of the res privata (3.1) into a unified whole. He undertakes the reconciliation or harmonization of two opposites, as he later does in Ode 4.6. Or as Pindar might have expressed the idea behind this dual approach (Paian VI, 9-11):

… χορεύσιος ἦλθον
ἔταις ἀμαχανίαν ἀλέξων
τεοῖσιν ἐμαῖς τε τιμαῖς

… I have come as a leader of the chorus,
to drive away the distress from your citizens (Hor. c. 3,2-6),
to defend my priestly office (Hor. c. 3,1).

Conclusion

The influence of Pindar on Horace’s Odes has long been recognized, even with a hint of self-irony from the poet himself; while the influence of the Epinikia has been well-documented, whereas the influence of the extra-epinician Pindaric corpus remains under-explored in research. Even a superficial analysis of Ode 1,19 and its extra-epinician source fr. 112 shows that we need to establish additional criteria for identifying Pindaric influence, which differ from those used to compare Epinikia and Odes. Now freed from the ritual-sacral character and the performance practices of Greek Archaic poetry, Horace can speak (poeta loquens) and act (poeta agens) more freely in his emulation of Pindar than his predecessor. That Horace was familiar with not only Pindar’s epinician hymns but also his Paeans is evident from Ode 4.6 and its references to the sixth Paean. However, the Ode 3.1, published around 23 B.C., already shows striking, yet previously under-appreciated similarities to the Sixth Paean, both on a content and stylistic level. Having heard Pindar’s song (ψόπον ἀΐων Πινδάρου), Horace, as an initiated mediator between God and man and among Roman citizens of varying ranks and status, enters the deserted grove (ὀρφανὸν ἀνδρῶν) as a priest of the Muses (Πιερίδων προφάταν; Musarum sacerdos) and presents a song (ἀοίδιμον; carmina) that was not shown to him at a recurring festival (πολλάκι), but rather one he invented and composed himself (prius non audita … canto).

Post scriptum

Well, that was fun, no? Now have some music: this shit is fire — even if water is best.

1. One might now think that the reference to the Sword of Damocles—set in parallel with the stabbing of Neoptolemus—serves as a kind of Alexandrian footnote, drawing attention to the allusive nature of the entire ode to Paean VI—especially since Pindar does exactly the same thing in Nemean 7.48, specifically — of all things — in relation to the myth of Neoptolemus!