many odes of those remaining which do not impress it on our minds.

And it is more with him than a mere manner in poetical style. The
same defect which we feel more or less present in all poets of
antiquity--least of all perhaps in Virgil and Sophokles, but even in
them somewhat--a certain want of widely sympathetic tenderness, this
is unquestionably present in Pindar. What of this quality may have
found expression in his lost poems, especially the Dirges, we can
scarcely guess, but in his triumphal odes it hardly appears at all,
unless in the touches of tender gracefulness into which he softens
when speaking of the young. And we find this want in him mainly
because objects of pity, such as especially elicit that quality of
tenderness, are never or seldom present to Pindar's mind. He sees evil
only in the shape of some moral baseness, falsehood, envy, arrogance,
and the like, to be scathed in passing by the good man's scorn, or
else in the shape of a dark mystery of pain, to be endured by those on
whom it causelessly falls in a proud though undefiant silence. It was
not for him, as for the great tragedians, to 'purge the mind by pity
and fear,' for those passions had scarcely a place in his own mind or
in the minds of those of whom he in his high phantasy would fain have
had the world consist. And as in this point somewhat, so still more in
others, does Pindar remind us, even more than might have been expected
in a contemporary, of Aeschylus. The latter by virtue of his Athenian
nurture as well as of his own greater natural gifts reveals to us
a greater number of thoughts, and those more advanced and more
interesting than we find in Pindar, but the similarity in moral temper
and tone is very striking, as also is the way in which we see this
temper acting on their beliefs. Both hold strongly, as is the wont
of powerful minds in an age of stability as opposed to an age of
transition, to the traditions and beliefs on which the society around