ON THE LIFE OF PYTHAGORAS. 17

...of their previous life, which their soul had lived long ago before it was bound to this body This refers to the doctrine of metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls, a core Pythagorean belief that the soul is immortal and inhabits different bodies over many lifetimes.; and he revealed himself through undeniable evidence to be Euphorbus, the son of Panthous. And of the Homeric verses, he would especially sing those, and most melodiously performed them to the accompaniment of the lyre.

...expired while he was standing by. He also brought back to the memory of many who approached him their previous life, which their soul had lived once before, before it was bound to this body: and by irrefutable arguments he showed that he himself had been Euphorbus, the son of Panthous original: Euphorbum Panthi filium; Euphorbus was a Trojan hero in Homer's Iliad. Pythagoras claimed that his soul had previously inhabited Euphorbus's body during the Trojan War.. And from the Homeric verses he especially praised these, and most sweetly sang them along to the lyre:

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The following is an English translation of the Greek verses from Homer's Iliad, Book 17, lines 51–60, describing the death of Euphorbus.
His locks, which were like those of the Graces, were soaked in blood,
And the curls that were fastened with gold and silver.
Like a thriving olive sapling that a man raises
In a solitary place where water bubbles up in abundance,
Beautiful and flourishing; and the breezes of
Every wind toss it, and it bursts with white blossoms;
But suddenly a wind comes with a great storm,
Uproots it from its trench, and stretches it upon the ground;
Such was Panthous' son, Euphorbus of the fine ash-spear,
Whom Menelaus, son of Atreus, stripped of his armor after he had slain him.

The following is an English translation of the Latin poetic rendering of the same Homeric passage.
And his pleasing hair was wet, sprinkled with blood,
And his ruddy curls, beautiful with gold and silver.
Just as a sprout of a green olive tree in summer,
Which a diligent farmer brings forth in a pleasant field,
Which a stream of nearby water refreshes as it flows,
And gentle spirits of the air soothe with mild breezes,
And it clothes itself everywhere in joyful white flowers.
But if by chance a wind should rush with a violent whirlwind;
It lays it low on the ground and strikes it down, torn from its deepest root:
Such was the son of Panthous, cast down by a bitter wound,
Whom the son of Atreus, robbed of life, stripped of his arms.