The exploit of Harmodius and Aristogiton, in slaying Hipparchus,
tyrant of Athens, on the festal day of Minerva--hiding their poniards
in myrtle wreaths, which they pretended to carry in honor of the
Goddess, was celebrated in an Ode, the unsurpassed strength and beauty
of which, it has utterly baffled the skill of all English versifiers
to transfuse into our language. The learned are not agreed as to the
author of this noble specimen of classic minstrelsy; though by most,
it is ascribed to Callistratus. Some have set it down to Alcæus;
misled, perhaps, by the tyrant-hating spirit it breathes,--so fully in
unison with the deep, trumpet tones of his "golden lyre." Unhappily
for the paternity of this ode, he died _eighty years_ before the event
it celebrates. Of no other relic of antiquity, probably, have so many
translations been attempted. I have seen seven or eight. If the
following be added to so many woful failures, the author will not be
greatly troubled. It never was in print before--I believe.