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