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-Ep.4
ILIAD |

HOMER.
TRANSLATED BY

ALEXANDER POPE, Eso.

TE SEQUOR, O GRAIZ GENTIS DECUS! INQUE TUIS NUNC
FIXA PEDUM PONO PRESSIS VESTIGIA SIGNIS:;
NON ITA CERTANDI CUPIDUS, QUAM PROPTER AMOREM,
QUOD TE IMITARI AVEO, LUCRET.

A NEW EDITION,
WITH ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES, SELECTED FROM THE EDITION PUBLISHED |

By GILBERT WAKEFIELD, B. A.

eo? \
VOLUME I, i “DO

—= xa eg

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR F, C, AND J. RIVINGTON ; J. NICHOLS AND SON; G, AND W.

NICOL; W. CLARKE AND SONS; J. CUTHELL; J. NUNN; G. WILKIE;
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1817,
 ιν,"
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τὴν

ADVERTISEMENT
TO

THE PRESENT EDITION.

THE transcendent merit of Homer has been displayed,

with such fullness and consummate elegance, by Pope, in
the prefatory essay, and in the dissertations and notes, to
his version of the Iliad, that it would be equally unnecessary
and presumptuous for the Editor of this edition to add a
single word upon the subject. He will not, rashly and
without any beneficial end, endeavour to draw the bow of
Ulysses. Nor is it necessary for him to say more with
respect to the merit of the translator, than of the great ori-
ginal, from which that translator copied. In spite of those
imperfections, which are undoubtedly to be found in it, and
which, as undoubtedly, are to be found in all human works,
the translation of Homer, by Pope, will never cease to be
considered as a splendid monument of talent; which other
translators may laudably hope to rival, but which they can
never hope to surpass. It’s faults, of omission and mistake,
are amply atoned for by the high poetic spirit, the felicity
of diction, and the pomp of numbers, with which every
page, and indeed almost every line, is animated and adorned,
The sole task, therefore, that remains to be performed, is,
to state what have been the humble labours of the present
editor,, It has been his wish to give to the Public an
vi ADVERTISEMENT.
edition of Pope’s Homer, which should be at once elegant
in appearance, and convenient in size; which, while it con-
tained all such comments as are requisite to elucidate the
text, and satisfy the mere English reader, should not be
rendered too voluminous, and consequently cumbersome
and partly useless, by a redundance of illustration.
The ground-work of this edition is that which was edited,
in nine volumes octavo, by the late Reverend Gilbert
Wakefield. His edition is prefaced by remarks, which
evince much critical penetration, and, at the same
time, much candour; and clearly prove that Pope did not
possess an extensive knowledge of the Greek tongue. In
the body of his work, Mr. Wakefield has retained all the
notes written by Pope and Broome ; and has himself made
a large addition to them. His notes, however, chiefly
consist of parallel passages; corrections of mistakes made,
by the translator, in the meaning of Homer; attempts,
generally not unworthy of praise, to produce a more faith-
ful version; and, lastly, incessant and bitter censure of
defective rhymes. With regard to rhyme, such was the
diseased niceness of his ear, that he could not tolerate even
the best of those imperfect rhymes, the use of which has
been sanctioned by every one of our most eminent poets.
As the edition, which is now laid before the Public, is
principally designed for those who are not acquainted with
the Greek, great care has been taken to select only such
parts, and yet to select all such parts, of the Commentary of
Pope and Wakefield, as may be useful to an English reader.
The prefatory essay on Homer, the dissertations, and the
preliminary notes, are, of course, reprinted, as being indis-
pensably requisite. Neither, for various reasons, could Mr.
 ADVERTISEMENT. vii
Wakefield’s opening remarks be, with propriety, omitted.
Of the notes, all those which relate solely to critical or con-
jectural disquisition, or which are intended to point out the
numerous beauties of the Grecian Bard, are rejected, as
being rather curious and amusive, than of real utility. But,
on the other hand, it is hoped that the Editor will be found
to have retained every thing which can throw a light on the
laws, the customs, the manners, the characters, the histori-
cal facts, and the sciences and arts, which are mentioned, or
alluded to, in the Iliad and the Odyssey. Perhaps it may,
with truth, be objected that he has not retained too little, but
toomuch. In elucidating it is, however, certainly better to
err on the side of prolixity than of conciseness.
There is still another class of notes, on which it may be
proper to say a few words. ‘This class consists of the notes
which contain Mr. Wakefield’s corrections of the version of
Pope. Wherever it appeared, as it sometimes did appear,
that the former was anxious only to try his poetical strength
with the latter, the note has been discarded, without hesita-
tion. But, wherever it was obvious that the sense had been
mistaken, or that a beauty had been passed over or dis-
figured, by the original translator, the lines of Mr. Wake-
field have been preserved ; in order to enable the reader to
see the true sense of Homer, without being compelled to
seek for it in some other translation.
With the Iliad and the Odyssey the Editor has reprinted
the Battle of the Frogs and Mice, translated by Parnell;
and, that this edition may contain all of Homer that has
received an English dress, he has been induced to add the
Hymn to Ceres: of which the translation was, several years
ΝΣ, ADVERTISEMENT.
ago, published, in a separate pamphlet, by the late Reverend
Richard Hole.
It is hoped that this edition is more typographically
correct than many of the preceding editions. ‘This merit,
merely mechanical as it is, will not be despised by those who
remember, that the change of a word, or even of a letter,
especially in poetry, will often give a ludicrous air to the
most sublime or the most pathetic description ; and that
nothing is more fatal than ridicule to those feelings which
sublimity and pathos are intended to excite.
 PREFACE.
—_——_

Homer is universally allowed to have had the

greatest Invention of any writer whatever. The
praise of judgment Virgil has justly contested with
him, and others may have their pretensions as to
particular excellencies ;but his Invention, remains yet
unrivalled. Nor is it a wonder if he has ever been
acknowledged the greatest of poets who most excel-
led in that which is the very foundation of poetry.
It is the Invention that in different degrees distin-
guishes all great Geniuses; the utmost stretch of
human study, learning, and industry, which masters
7 every thing besides, can never attain to this. It fur-
nishes Art with all her materials, and without it
Judgment itself can at best but steal wisely: for Art
is only like a prudent steward that lives on managing
the riches of Nature. Whatever praises may be
given to works of judgment, there is not even a single
beauty in them to which the Invention must not con
tribute* : as in the most regular gardens, Art can

* The passage stood thus in the first edition:—there is not

even a single beauty in them but 7s owing to the invention: as in
the most regular gardens, however Art may carry the greatest ap-
pearance, there is not a plant or flower but is the gift of Nature.
VOL. I. A
ii PREFACE.
only reduce the beauties of Nature to more regularity,
and such a figure, which the common eye may better
take in, and is therefore more entertained with. And
perhaps the reason why common criticks are inclined
to prefer a judicious and methodical genius to a great
and fruitful one is, because they find it easier for
themselves to pursue their observations through an
uniform and bounded walk of Art, than to com-
prehend the vast and various extent of Nature.
Our author’s work is a wild paradise, where if we
cannot see all the beauties so distinctly as in an
ordered Garden, it is only because the number of them
is infinitely greater. It is like a copious nursery,
which contains the seeds and first productions of
every kind, out of which those who followed him have
but selected some particular plants, each according to
his fancy, to cultivate and beautify. If some things
are too luxuriant, it is owing to the richness of the
soil*; and if others are not arrived to perfection or

The first can only reduce the beauties of the latter into a more
obvious figure, which the common eye——.
This observation may appear to savour of satyrical censorious-
ness, but I believe it to be extremely just. That wild and exube-
rant genius, Dryden, has been of late years much undervalued
amidst the public admiration of more regular and chastised writers ;
but has invariably commanded the veneration of consummate
judges. See Dr. Johnson’s incomparable parallel of him and our
poet in the life of Pope, and letter li. in the 4th section of
Gray’s Memoirs by Mason. W.
* Quod, ut vitium est, ita copie vitium: “ Which, though it
“be a fault, is the fault of innate fertility,” says Quintilian: an
author, with whom our poet appears, no less from this preface,
—
 PREFACE. lil
maturity, it is.only because they are over-run and
opprest.by;those of a ‘stronger nature.
It is to the strength of this amazing invention we
are to attribute that unequalled fire and_ rapture,
which is so forcible in Homer that no man of a true
poetical spirit is master of himself while he reads him.
What he writes is. of the most animated nature
imaginable; every thing moves,. every thing lives,
and is put. in action. If a council ‘be called, or a
battle. fought, you are not coldly informed of what
was said or done as from a third person; the reader
is hurried. out of himself by the force of the Poet’s
imagination; and turns in one place to a hearer, in
another to a spectator. The course of his verses
resembles that of the army he describes,
Οἱ δ᾽ ag’ ἴσαν, aot τε πυρὶ χθὼν πᾶσα νέμοιτο.
e ΕῚ > ῥὲ e .f \ XN \ /

They pour along lke a fire that sweeps the whole

earth before it*. It is however remarkable that his

than from his Essay on Criticism, to have cultivated an attach-

ment. W.
* This is a very. inadequate representation of the Greek verse,
which occurs in Iliad 11. ver. 780. Under a previous solicitation of
the reader’s indulgence, I shall attempt a more exact resemblance :
With wasting fury, as:a flood of flame
Rolls o’er the ground it’s waves, the squadrons came.
In my apprehension, the leading impressions of Homer’s com-
parison are -“ the vigour, the compactness, and formidable aspect
“ of this: moving: host :” and the peculiar image of fire naturally
directs our attention to the refulgence of their armour; so that
this circumstance had probably a place also in the intention of the
poet. W.
A 2
iv PREFACE.
fancy, which is every where vigorous, is not dis-
covered immediately at the beginning of his poem in
its fullest splendor: it grows in the progress both
upon himself and others, and becomes on fire like a
charict-wheel, by its own rapidity. Exact disposi-
tion, just thought, correct elocution, polished numbers,
may have been found in a thousand; but this poetical
fire, this Vivida vis animi, in a very few. Even in
works where all those are imperfect or neglected, this
can over-power criticism, and make us admire even
while we disapprove. Nay, where this appears,
though attended with absurdities, it brightens all the
rubbish about it, till we see nothing but its own
splendor. This Fire is discerned in Virgil, but dis-
cerned as through a glass, reflected from Homer,
more shining than fierce*, but every where equal
and constant: in Lucan and Statius, it bursts out in
sudden, short, and interrupted flashes: in Milton it
glows like a furnace kept up to an uncommon ardor+
by the force of art: in Shakespear, it strikes before

* In the first edition, with less elegance he wrote, And more

shining than warm. The improvement might be suggested by a
verse in Prior’s Lady’s Looking-Glass :
The setting sun adorn’d the coast,
His beams intire, his fierceness lost.
In much the some spirit Longinus, Sect. ix. says of Homer:
« So that in his Odyssey we may compare Homer to the set-
“ting sun, whose magnitude continues without his fierce-
© ness.”? W.
t Altered from the “ uncommon fierceness” of the first edition,
for an obvious reason. W.

|
 PREFACE. v
we are aware, like an accidental fire from heaven:
but in Homer, and in him only, it burns every where
clearly, and every where irresistibly.
I shall here endeavour to show, how this vast
Invention exerts itself in a manner superior to that
of any poet, through all the main constituent parts
of his work, as it is the great and peculiar character-
istic which distinguishes him from all authors. |
This strong and ruling faculty was like a powerful
star *, which, in the violence of its course, drew all
things within its vorter. It seemed not enough to
have taken in the whole circle of arts, and the whole
compass of nature, to supply his maxims and reflec-
tions+; all the inward passions and affections of
mankind, to furnish his characters; and all the
outward forms and images of things for his descrip-
tions; but wanting yet an ampler sphere to ex-
patiate in, he opened a new and boundless walk for
his imagination, and created a world for himself in
the invention of Fable. That which Aristotle calls
the Soul of poetry was breathed into it by Homer 1.

* Star: in the first edition, planet ; and altered without reason,

probably at the instigation of some friend, pretending to more
philosophy than he possest : for the Cartesian hypothesis presumed,
that the planets were borne along by vortices ; the secondary
round the primary, and the primary round the sun. W.
+ To supply his maxims and reflections.) This clause was super-
added to the first edition; and furnish, in the next sentence,
substituted for supply. Ww.
1 This is elegantly expressed ;but Aristotle’s words are these:
Apyn μνὲν ἕν καὶ οἷον ψυχη ὁ μυυθος της τρωγωδὶας, δευτερον δὲ τῶ nln: Poet.
 vi PREFACE.
I shall begin with considering him in this part, as it
is naturally the first, and I speak of it both as it
means the design of a poem, and as it is taken for
fiction.
Fable may be divided ‘into the probable, the
allegorical, and the marvellous. 'The probable fable
is the recital of such actions as, though they did not.
_ happen, yet might, in the common course of nature :
_or of such as, though they did, become fables by the
additional episodes and manner of telling them. Of
this sort is the main story of an Epic poem, the return
of Uiyffes, the settlement of the Trojans in Italy,
or the like. That of the Iliad is the anger of Achil-
les, the most short and single subject that ever was
chosen by any Poet. Yet this he has supplied with
a vaster variety of incidents and events, and crowded
with a greater number of councils, speeches, battles,
and episodes of all kinds, than are to be found even
in those poems whose schemes are of the utmost
latitude and irregularity. The action is hurried on
with the most vehement spirit, and its whole duration
employs not so much as fifty days. Virgil, for want
of so warm a genius, aided himself by taking in a
more extensive subject, as well as a greater length of
time, and contracting the design of both Homer's
poems into one, which is yet but a fourth part as:
large as ‘his. The other epic poets have used {πὸ

cap. στ. “ The fable is the foundation, and as it were the soul, of
Tragedy : next the Morals,”’ | W.
Ὶ
 PREFACE. vil
same practice, but generally carried it so far as to
superinduce a multiplicity of fables, destroy the
unity of action, and lose thew readers in an
unreasonable length of time. Nor is it only in the
main design that they have been unable to add to his
invention *, but they have followed him in every
episode and part of the story. If he has given a regular
catalogue of an army, they all draw up their forces
in the same order. If he has funeral games for
Patroclus, Virgil has the same for Anchises, and
Statius (rather than omit them) destroys the unity of
his action for those of Archemorus. If Ulysses visit
the shades, the A‘neas of Virgil and Scipio of Silius
are sent after him. If he be detained from his
return by the allurements of Calypso, so is Atneas by
Dido, and Rinaldo by Armida. If Achilles be
absent from the army on the score of a quarrel
through half the poem, Rinaldo must absent himself
just as long, on the like account. If he gives his hero
a suit of celestial armour, Virgil and Tasso make the
same present to theirs. Virgil has not only observed
this close imitation of Homer, but where he had not

* This uniform traditionary decision of the critics may be

reasonably called in question, from a very obvious and indisputable
principle: What has once acquired the general applause and admi-
ration of mankind, renders a material departure from it’s plan
extremely hazardous, and insecure of public approbation. Passive
acquiescence, therefore, may spring from timidity, as well as from
defect of genius. It may be true then, that Homer's plan is
best, and even perfect: but the scarcity of variation from it
may evidently be occasioned by the motives now alleged. W,
 viii PREFACE.
led the way, supplied the want from other Greek
authors. Thus the story of Sinon and the tak-
ing of Troy was copied (says Macrobius) almost |
word for word from Pisander, as the loves of Dido
and A®neas are taken from those of Medea and.
Jason im Apollonius, and several others in the same
manner.
To proceed to the allegorical fable: If we
reflect upon those innumerable knowledges, those
secrets of nature and physical philosophy, which
Homer is generally supposed to have wrapped up in
his allegories, what a new and ample scene of wonder
may this consideration afford us? How fertile will
that imagination appear, which was able to clothe all
the properties of elements, the qualifications of the
- mind, the virtues and vices, in forms and persons ; and
_ to introduce them into actions agreeable to the nature
of the things they shadowed? ‘This is a field in
which no succeeding poets could dispute with Homer ;
and whatever commendations have been allowed
them on this head, are by no means for their inven-
tion in having enlarged his circle, but for their
judgment in having contracted it. For when the
mode of learning changed in following ages, and
science was delivered in a plainer manner, it then
became as reasonable in the more modern poets to lay
it aside, as it was in Homer to make use of it. And
perhaps it was no unhappy circumstance for Vir-
gil, that there was not in his time that demand
4.
 PREFACE. ix

upon him of so great an invention, as might be

capable of furnishing all those allegorical parts of a
poem. ;
The marvellous fable includes whatever is super-
natural, and especially the machines of the Gods. ᾿
If Homer was not the first who introduced the Deities
(as Herodotus imagines) into the religion of Greece,
he seems the first who brought them into a system of
machinery for poetry, and such a one as makes its
greatest importance and dignity. For we find those
authors who have been offended at the literal notion
of the Gods, constantly laying their accusation
against Homer as the chief support of it*. But
whatever cause there might be to blame his machines
in a philosophical or religious view, they are so
perfect in the poetic, that mankind have been ever
simce contented to follow them: none have been able
to enlarge the sphere of poetry beyond the limits he
has set: every attempt of this nature has proved
unsuccessful; and after all the various changes of
times and religions, his Gods continue to this day
the Gods of poetry.
We come now to the characters of his persons, and
here we shall find no author has ever drawn so many,
~»waith so visible and surprising a variety, or given us |
a affecting impressions of them. Every
~ one has something so singularly his own, that no
* It stood in the first edition, with less precision; “as the
** undoubted inventor of them.” W.
 Χ PREFACE.
painter could have distinguished them more by their
features, than the Poet has by their manners. No-
thing can be more exact than the distinctions he
has observed in the different degrees of virtues and
vices. The single quality of courage is wonderfully
diversified in the several characters of the Ihad.
That of Achilles is furious and intractable; that of
Diomede forward, yet listening to advice and subject
to command: that * of Ajax is heavy and self-
confiding ; of Hector, active and vigilant; the cou-
rage of Agamemnon is inspirited by love of empire
and ambition; that of Menelatis mixed with softness
and tenderness for his people: we find in Idomeneus
a plain direct soldier; in Sarpedon a gallant and
generous one. Nor is this judicious and astonishing
diversity to be found only in the principal quality
which constitutes the main of each character, but
even in the underparts of it, to which he takes care
to give a tincture of that principal one. For example,
the main characters of Ulysses and Nestor consist in
wisdom; and they are distinct in this, that the
wisdom of one is artificial and various, of the other
natural, open, and regular. But they have, besides,
characters of courage; and this quality also takes a
different turn in each from the difference of his
* This sentence stood thus in the first edition :
“We see in Ajax an heavy and self confiding valour, in Hector
“an active and vigilant one:’?—but was justly changed for the
benefit ofa more uniform construction, and compacter phraseology.
W.
 PREFACE, xi
prudence: for one in the war depends still upon
caution, the other upon experience. It would be
endless to produce instances of these kinds. ‘The
characters of Virgil are far from striking us in this
open manner ; they lie in a great degree hidden and
undistinguished, and where they are marked most
evidently, affect us not in proportion to those of
Homer. His characters of valour are much alike;
even that of Turnus seems no way peculiar but as it
is in a superior degree; and we see nothing that
differences the courage of Mnestheus from that of
Sergesthus, Cloanthus, or the rest. τ In like manner
it may be remarked of Statius’s-heroes, that an air
of impetuosity runs through them all; the same
horrid and savage courage appears in his Capaneus,
Tydeus, Hippomedon, &c. They have a parity of
character which makes them seem brothers of one
family. I believe when the reader is led into this
track of reflection, if he will pursue it through the
Epic and Tragic writers, he will be convinced how —
infinitely superior in this point the invention of
Homer was to that of all others.
The speeches are to be considered as they flow
from the characters, being perfect or defective as
they agree or disagree with the manners of those
who utter them. As there is more variety of cha-
racters in the Iliad, so there is of speeches, than in
any other poem. very thing in it has manners
(as Aristotle expresses it) that is, every thing is acted
 ΧΙ PREFACE.
or spoken. It is hardly credible in a work of such
length, how small a number of lines are employed in
narration. In Virgil the dramatic part is less in
proportion to the narrative ; and the speeches often
consist of general reflections or thoughts, which
might be equally just in any person’s mouth upon the
same occasion. As many of his persons have no
apparent characters, so many of his speeches escape
being applied and judged by the rule of propriety.
We oftener think of the author himself when we
read Virgil, than when we are engaged in Homer:
all which are the effects of a colder invention *, that
interests us less in the action described: Homer
makes us hearers, and Virgil leaves us readers.
If in the next place we take a view of the senti-
‘ ments, the same presiding faculty is eminent in the
sublimity and spirit of his thoughts. Longinus has
given his opinion, that it was in this part Homer
principally excelled +. What were alone sufficient to

* Which is shewn by an inability to delineate characters of

sufficient diversity, and to preserve, on every occasion, an ap-
propriate discrimination of the same characters in their speeches
and their actions. W.
+ I was tolerably certain, as I recollected no specific declara-
tion of this kind in Longinus, that it must be found in his 9th sec-
tions That I explored in vain; when, upon having recourse to
Boileau, through whose version only it is highly probable Longinus
was known to Pope, I perceived a gap in that section, to be thus
smoothed and filled up by the French poet; “ Et c’est en cette
«* partie gu’ a principalement excellé Homere, dont les pensées sont
“© toutes sublimes.”? And doubtless a perusal of Boileau’s transla-
tion and notes would lead to other discoveries of this kind. W.

P
 PREFACE. xiit
prove the grandeur and excellence of his senti-
ments in general is, that they have so remarkable a
parity with those of the scripture: Duport, in his
Gnomologica Homerica, has collected innumerable
instances of this sort. And it is with justice
an excellent modern writer* allows, that if Virgil
has not so many thoughts that are low and vulgar,
he has not so many that are sublime and noble;
and that the Roman author seldom rises into very
astonishing sentiments where he is not fired by the
Thad.
If we observe his descriptions, images, and similes,
we shall find the invention still predominant. To
what else can we ascribe that vast comprehension of
images of every sort, where we see each circumstance
of art+ and individual of nature summoned together,
by the extent and fecundity of his imagination; to
which all things, in their various views, presented
themselves in an instant, and had their impressions
taken off to perfection, at a heat? Nay, he not
only gives us the full prospects of things, but several
unexpected peculiarities and side-views, unobserved
by any painter but Homer. Nothing is so surpris-

* Probably Addison, but I am unable to point out the passage:

from this topic, however, Quintilian derives this consolation in
behalf of his countryman; book x. chap. 1. Quantum eminentiori~
bus vincimur, fortasse equalitate pensamus: ‘¢ And, perhaps, Virgil
*‘ compensates his inferiority to Homer in the elevations of
** poetry, by his evenness of excellence.” Toe,
t+ Of art. These words are not found in the first eilition. W.
xiv PREFACE.
ing as the descriptions of his battles, which take, up
no less than half the Iliad, and are supplied with so
vast a variety of incidents that no one bears a
likeness to another; such different kinds of deaths,
that no two heroes are wounded.in the same manner ;
and such a profusion of noble ideas, that every battle
rises above the last in greatness, horror, and confu-
sion. It is certain there is not near that number of
images and. descriptions in any Epic Poet; though
every one has assisted himself with a great quantity
out of him: and it is evident of Virgil especially,
that he has scarce any comparisons. which are not
drawn from his master *.
If we descend from hence to the expression, we
see the bright imagination of Homer shining out
in the most enlivened forms of it. We acknowledge
him the father of poetical diction, the first who
taught that language of the Gods to men. His ex-
pression is like the colouring of some great masters,
which discovers itself to be laid on. boldly, and
executed with rapidity. It is indeed the strongest
and most. glowing imaginable, and touched with
the greatest spirit. Aristotle had reason to say,
He was the only poet who had found out living

* This, however, is a consequence, unconnected with. sterility

of invention, and inevitably incident to succeeding writers. The
face of Nature is much the same in every age and im every posi-
tion: the more prominent and striking peculiarities uniformly
present themselves to every observer, and become of course the
property of the prior occupant. W.
 PREFACE. XV

words* ; there are in him more daring figures and me-

taphors than in any good author whatever. An arrow
is impatient to be on the wing, a weapon thirsts to
drink the blood of an enemy, and the like. Yet his
expression is never too big for the sense, but justly
great in proportion to it. It is the sentiment that
swells and fills out the diction, which rises with it,
and forms itself about it: and in the same degree
that a thought is warmer, an expression will be
brighter ; as that is more strong, this will become
more perspicuous: like glass in the furnace, which
grows to a greater magnitude and refines to a greater
clearness, only as the breath within.is more powerful,
and the heat. more intense.
To throw his language more out of prose, Homer
seems to have affected the compound-epithets +.
This was a sort of composition peculiarly proper to

_ * From what source our author drew this intelligence, I have

not discovered. His informant might have in view Aristotle’s
rhetoric ; iii. 11. where that philosopher expresses himself thus:
«Homer, by a metaphor, often speaks of inanimate things as
““ endued with life ; and is very happy in that energy, which he
“displays by these means, on every occasion.” Then, after
various instances, such as “ the arrow flew ;” and, “ the point
‘ rusht eagerly through. his breast : he adds : “‘ These expressions
“* owe their energy to the fe which is given them.”
After Aristotle, Horace has vivas voces, living words, in his
Epistle to the Pisoes, ver. 317. W.
- + Our own language is not much inferior to the Greek in the
facility and. felicity of these combinations. Milton and Gray have
exhibited some of the finest specimens of such compound epithets.
 Xvi PREFACE.

poetry, not only as it heightened the diction, but as

it assisted and filled the numbers with greater sound
and pomp, and likewise conduced in some measure
to thicken the images. On this last consideration I
cannot but attribute these also to the fruitfulness of
his invention, since(as he has managed them) theyarea
sort of supernumerary pictures of the persons or things
to which they are joined*. We see the motion of
Hector’s plumes in the epithet Κορυθαίολος, the lands-
cape of Mount Neritus in that of Εἰνοσίφυλλος, and
so of others; which particular images could not have
been insisted upon so long as to express them in a de-
scription (though but ofa single line) without diverting
the reader too much from the principal action or
| figure. As a metaphor is a short simile, one of these
; epithets is a short description. —
“Lastly, if we consider his versification, we shall
be sensible what a share of praise is due to his inven-
tion in that also. He was not satisfied with his
language as he. found it settled in any one part of
Greece, but searching through its differing dialects _
with this particular view, to beautify and perfect fis,

* This conclusion was judiciously altered from the colloquial

vulgarity of the first edition :—* The persons or things they are
“ joined to.” In general, our author’s prose composition is too loose
and straggling, too much broken with diminutive and feeble words,
not well connected and consolidated: it wants energy, concentra~
tion, and rotundity. Otherwise, his conceptions are clear, his dic-
tion appropriate, his figures numerous and splendid, amidst an unaf-
fected purity of phrase, like constellations in a winter’s sky. ὙΥ.

ο΄
 PREFACE. Xvi
ἐν

numbers: he considered these as they had a greater

mixture of vowels or consonants, and accordingly
employed them as the verse required either a greater
smoothness or strength. What he most affected was
the Ionic, which has a peculiar sweetness from its
never using contractions, and from its custom of
resolving the diphthongs into two syllables, so as to
make the words open themselves with a more spread-
ing and sonorous fluency. With this he mingled the
Attic contractions, the broader Doric, and the feebler
Molic, which often rejects its aspirate, or takes off
its accent; and completed this variety by altering
some letters with the licence of poetry. ‘Thus his
measures, instead of being fetters to his sense, were
always in readiness to run along with the warmth of
his rapture, and even to give a farther representation
of his notions, in the correspondence of their sounds
to what they signified. Out of all these he has
derived that harmony, which makes us confess he had
not only the richest head, but the finest ear in the
world. This is so great a truth, that whoever will
but consult the tune of his verses, even without
understanding them (with the same sort of diligence
as we daily see practised in the case of Italian
Operas), will find more sweetness, variety, and
majesty of sound, than in any other language or
poetry. The beauty of his numbers is allowed by
the criticks to be copied but faintly by Virgil himself,
though they are so just to ascribe it to the nature of
VOL. I. B
XViil PREFACE.
the Latin tongue: indeed the Greek has some
advantages both from the natural sound of its words,
and the turn and cadence of its Verse, which agree
with the genius of no other language. Virgil was
very sensible of this, and used the utmost diligence
in working up a more intractable language to what-
soever graces it was capable of; and in particular
never failed to bring the sound of his line “to a
beautiful agreement with its sense. If the Grecian
poet has not been so frequently celebrated on this
account as the Roman, the only reason is, that fewer
critics have understood one language than the other.
Dionysius of Halicarnassus has pointed out many of
our author’s beauties in this kind, in his treatise of
the Composition of Words*, and others will be
taken notice of in the course of my notes. It suffices
at present to observe of his numbers, that they flow
with so much ease, as to make one imagine Homer
had no other care than to transcribe as fast as the
Muses dictated; and at the same time with so much
force and inspiriting vigour, that they awaken and
raise us like the sound of a trumpet. They roll
along as a plentiful river, always in motion, and
always full; while we are borne away by a tide of
verse, the most rapid, and yet the most smooth
imaginable.
Thus on whatever side we contemplate Homer,

* See the 15th and 16th sections of that Treatise. WwW.

 PREFACE. xix
what principally strikes us is his invention. It is
that which forms the character of each part of his
work ; and accordingly we find it to have made his
fable more extensive and copious than any other, his
manners more lively and strongly marked, his
speeches more affecting and transported, his senti-
ments more warm and sublime, his images and
descriptions more full and animated, his expression
more raised and daring, and his numbers more
rapid and various. I hope, in what has been said of
Virgil, with regard to any of these heads, I have no
way derogated from his character. Nothing is more
absurd or endless, than the common method of com-
paring eminent writers by an opposition of particular
passages in them, and forming a judgment from
thence of their merit upon the whole. We ought to
have a certain knowledge of the principal character
and distinguishing excellence of each: it is in that
we are to consider him, and in proportion to
his degree in that we are to admire him. No
author or man ever excelled all the world in more
than one faculty, and as Homer has done this in
invention, Virgil has in judgment. Not that we are
to think Homer wanted judgment, because Virgil
had it in a more eminent degree; or that Virgil
wanted invention, because Homer possest a larger
share of it: each of these great authors had more
of both than perhaps any man besides, and are only
said to have less in comparison with one another.
Β9~
 ΧΧ PREFACE.

Homer was the greater genius, Virgil the better

artist. In one we most admire the man, in the
other the work. Homer hurries and transports us
with a commanding impetuosity, Virgil leads us with
an attractive majesty: Homer scatters with a
generous profusion, Virgil bestows with a careful
magnificence: Homer, like the Nile, pours out his
riches with a boundless overflow *; Virgil, like a
river in its banks, with a gentle and constant stream.
When we behold their battles, methinks the two
Poets resemble the Heroes they celebrate: Homer,
boundless and irresistible as Achilles, bears all before
him, and shines more and more as the tumult
increases; Virgil, calmly daring like Aineas, ap-
pears undisturbed in the midst of the action; dis-
poses all about him, and conquers with tranquillity.
And when we look upon their machines, Homer
seems like his own Jupiter in his terrors, shaking
Olympus, scattering the lightnings, and __ firing
the Heavens; Virgil, like the same power in
his benevolence, counselling with the Gods, laying
plans for empires, and regularly ordering his whole
creation 7.

* He gave, in the first edition, “ With a sudden overflow :”’

which suited Homer as well, but not the Nile; and was therefore
judiciously supplanted for the present reading. Ww.
+ This contrast of Homer and Virgil by our poet, that of
Demosthenes and Cicero by Quintilian, and that of Dryden and P_
Pope (constructed on those of his predecessors) by Dr. Johnson, , Ὁ
particularly the latter, in fertility of thought, elegance of figure, ~
 PREFACE. xxi
But after all, it is with great parts as with great
virtues, they naturally border on some imperfection ;
and it is often hard to distinguish exactly where the
virtue ends, or the fault begins. As prudence may
sometimes sink to suspicion, so may a great judg-
ment decline to coldness; and as magnanimity may
run up to profusion or extravagance, so may a great
invention to redundancy or wildness. If we look
upon Homer in this view, we shall perceive the chief
objections against him to proceed from so noble a
cause as the excess of this faculty.
Among these we may reckon some of his marvel-
lous fictions, upon which so much criticism has been
spent, as surpassing all the bounds of probability.
Perhaps it may be with great and superior souls as
with gigantick bodies, which, exerting themselves
with unusual strength, exceed what is commonly
thought the due proportion of parts, to become
miracles in the whole; and, like the old heroes of
that make, commit something near extravagance,
amidst a series of glorious and inimitable perform-
ances. ‘Thus Homer has his speaking horses, and
Virgil his myrtles distilling blood, where the latter
has not so much as contrived the easy intervention
of a Deity to save the probability.

energetic pregnancy of expression, and justness of application,

may be ranked, in my opinion, among the noblest and most vigor-
ous efforts of critical ingenuity. w.
 XXil PREFACE.
It is owing to the same vast invention, that his
Similes have been thought too exuberant, and full
of circumstances. The force of this faculty is seen
in nothing more, than in its inability to confine
itself to that single circumstance upon which the
comparison is grounded: it runs out into embellish-
iments of additional images, which however ‘are 80
managed as not to overpower the main one. His
similes are like pictures, where the principal figure
has not only its proportion given agreeable to the
original, but is also set off with occasional ornaments
and prospects. The same will account for his
manner of heaping a number of comparisons together
in one breath, when his fancy suggested to him at
once sO many various and correspondent images.
The reader will easily extend this observation to
more objections of the same kind.
τ ΤῈ there are others which seem rather to hier ge
him with a defect or narrowness of genius than an
excess of it, those seeming defects will be found
upon examination to proceed wholly from the
nature of the times he lived in. Such are his
grosser representations of the Gods, and the vicious
and imperfect manners of his Heroes, which will be
treated of in the following * Essay: but I must
here speak a word of the latter, as it is a point

* See the Articles of Theology and Morality, in the third part

of the Essay.
 PREFACE. Xxiil
generally carried into extremes, both by the censur-
ers and defenders of Homer. It must be a strange
partiality to antiquity, to think with Madam Dacier
«*that those times and manners are so much
“ the more excellent, as they are contrary to ours.”
Who can be so prejudiced in their favour as to mag-
nify the felicity of those ages, when a spirit of
revengie and cruelty, joined with the practice of
rapine and robbery, reigned through the world; when
no mercy was shown but for the sake of lucre, when
the greatest Princes were put to the sword, and their
wives and daughters made slaves and concubines ?
On the other side, I would not be so delicate as those
modern criticks, who are shocked at the servile offices
and mean employments in which we sometimes see
the Heroes of Homer engaged. ‘There is a pleasure
in taking a view of that simplicity in opposition to
the luxury of succeeding ages}, in beholding Mo-
narchs without their guards, Princes tending their
flocks, and Princesses drawing water from the springs.
When we read Homer, we ought to reflect that we
- are reading the most ancient author in the heathen

* Preface to her Homer.

+ After this explicit declaration, on which he has elsewhere
insisted also, and with this rectitude of judgment, it is the more
surprising, that he should have taken so much pains in the course
of his translation, as I have occasionally noticed, to efface these
traces of simplicity in his author, and to obscure the distincter
lineaments of ancient manners by the varnish of adventitious em-
bellishment and modernised phraseology. Ww.
Xxiv PREFACE.

world ; and those who consider him in this light, will

double their pleasure in the perusal of him. Let
them think they are growing acquainted with nations
and people that are now no more; that they are
stepping almost three thousand years back into the
remotest Antiquity, and entertaining themselves
with a clear and surprising vision of things no where
else to be found, the only true mirror * of that ancient
world. By this means alone their greatest obstacles
will vanish ; and what usually creates their dislike
will become a satisfaction.
This consideration may farther serve to answer for
the constant use of the same epzthets to his Gods and
Heroes, such as the far-darting Phoebus, the blue-
eyed Pallas, the swift-footed Achilles, &c. which some
have censured as impertinent and tediously repeated.
Those of the Gods depended upon the powers and
offices then believed to belong to them, and had con-
tracted a weight and veneration from the rites and
solemn devotions in which they were used : they were
a sort of attributes with which it was a matter of
religion to salute them on all occasions, and which it
was an irreverence to omit. As for the epithets of

* An improvement on the comparison of the first edition :—

«and the only authentick picture of that ancient world.” Ww.
+ The former clause of this sentence is altered for the better
from the first edition, and the latter for the worse by an interpola-
tion of useless words. It stood thus originally: “ They were. a
«‘ sort of Attributes that it was a matter of religion to salute them
** with on all occasions, and an irreverence to omit.” W.,

Na
K
 PREFACE. ΧΧΥ

great men, Mons. Boileau is of opinion, that they

were in the nature of Surnames, and repeated as
such ; for the Greeks having no names derived from
their fathers, were obliged * to add some other dis-
tinction of each person; either naming his parents
expressly, or his place of birth, profession, or the
like: as Alexander the son of Philip, Herodotus of
Halicarnassus, Diogenes the Cynic, &c. Homer there-
fore, complying with the custom of his country, used
such distinctive additions as better agreed with
poetry. And indeed we have something parallel to
these in modern times, such as the names of Harold
Harefoot, Edmund Ironside, Edward Long-shanks,
Edward the Black Prince, &c. If yet this be thought
to account better for the propriety than for the repe-
tition, I shall add a farther conjecture. Hesiod,
dividing the world into its different ages, has placed
a fourth age between the brazen and the iron one, of
Heroes distinct from other men: a divine race, who
fought at Thebes and Troy, are calied Demi-gods,
and live by the care of Jupiter in the islands of the
blessed}. Now among the divine honours which
were paid them, they might have this also in common
with the Gods, not to be mentioned without the
solemnity of an epithet, and such as might be accept-

* After this word, in the -first edition, followed the clause,

*« when they mentioned any one.” W.
+ Hesiod, lib. 1. ver. 155, &c.
XVI PREFACE.
able to them by its celebrating their families, actions,
or qualities.
What other cavils have been raised against Homer
are such as hardly deserve a reply, but will yet be
taken notice of as they occur in the course of the
work. Many have been occasioned by an injudicious
endeavour to exalt Virgil; which is much the same,
as if one should think to raise the superstructure by
undermining the foundation: one would imagine by
the whole course of their parallels, that these criticks
never so much as heard of Homer’s having written
first ; a consideration which whoever compares these
two Poets ought to have always in his eye. Some
accuse him for the same things which they overlook
or praise in the other ; as when they prefer the fable
and moral of the A‘neis to those of the Iliad, for the
same reasons which might set the Odysses above
the Afneis: as that the hero is a wiser man; and the
action of the one more beneficial to his country than
that of the other: or else they blame him for not doing
what he never designed; as because Achilles is not so
good and perfect a prince as Aineas, when the very
moral of his poem required a contrary character: it is
thus that Rapin judges in his comparison of Homer
and Virgil. Others select those particular passages
of Homer, which are not so laboured as some that
Virgil drew out of them: this is the whole manage-
ment of Scaliger in his Poetics. Others quarrel with
7
 PREFACE. XXvil
what they take for low and mean expressions, some-
times through a false delicacy and refinement, oftener
from an ignorance of the graces of the original ; and
then triumph in the awkwardness of their own trans-
lations : this is the conduct of Perrault in his Parallels.
Lastly, there are others. who pretending to a fairer
proceeding, distinguish between the personal merit
of Homer and that of his work; but when they
come to assign the causes of the great reputation of
the Iliad, they found it upon the ignorance of his
times, and the prejudice of those that followed: and
im pursuance of this principle, they make those acci-
dents (such as the contention of the cities, &c.) to be
the causes of his fame, which were in reality the con-
sequences of his merit. The same might as well be
said of Virgil, or any great author, whose general
character will infallibly raise many casual additions to
their reputation. ‘This is the method of Mons. de la
Motte; who yet confesses upon the whole that, in
whatever age Homer had lived, he must have been
the greatest poet of his nation, and that he may be
said in this sense to be the master even of those who
surpassed him.
In all these objections we see nothing that contra-
dicts his title to the honour of the chief Znvention ;
and as long as this (which is indeed the characteristic
of Poetry itself) remains unequalled by his followers,
he still continues superior to them. A cooler judg-
ment may commit fewer faults, and be more approved
1
ΧΧΥΤῚ PREFACE.

in the eyes of one sort of Criticks; but that warmth

of fancy will carry the loudest and most universal
applauses, which holds the heart of a reader under
the strongest enchantment. Homer not only appears
the inventor of poetry, but excels all the inventors of
other arts in this, that he has swallowed up the honour
of those who succeeded him. What he has done
admitted no increase, it only left room for contraction
or regulation. He showed all the stretch of fancy at
once; and if he has failed in some of his flights, it
was but because he attempted every thing. A work
of this kind seems like a mighty Tree which rises
from the most vigorous seed, is improved with in-
dustry, flourishes, and produces the finest fruit ;
nature and art conspire* to raise it; pleasure and
profit join tc make it valuable: and they who find
the justest faults, have only said, that a few branches
(which run luxuriant through a richness of nature)
might be lopped into form to give it a more regular
appearance.
Having now spoken of the beauties and defects of
the original, it remains to treat of the translation,
with the same view to the chief characteristic. As far
as that is seen in the main parts of the Poem, such as
the fable, manners, and sentiments, no translator can
prejudice it but by wilful omissions or contractions. —
As it also breaks out in every particular image, de-

* In the first edition, have conspired, and joined. — W.

 PREFACE. adie
scription, and simile, whoever lessens or too much
softens those, takes off from this chief character. It
is the first grand duty of an interpreter to give his
author entire and unmaimed; and for the rest, the
diction and versification only are his proper province;
since these must be his own, but the others he is to
take as he finds them.
It should then be considered what methods may
afford some equivalent in our language for the graces
of these in the Greek. It is certain no literal trans-
lation can be just to an excellent original in a supe-
rior language: but it is a great mistake to imagine
(as many have done) that a rash paraphrase can make
amends for this general defect ; which is no less in
danger to lose the spirit of an ancient, by deviating
into the modern manners of expression. If there be -
sometimes a darkness, there is often a light in anti-
quity, which nothing better preserves than a version
almost literal. I know no liberties one ought to take,
but those which are necessary for transfusing the
spirit of the original, and supporting the poetical
style of the translation: and I will venture to say,
there have not been more men misled in former times
by a servile dull adherence to the letter, than have
been deluded in ours by a chimerical insolent hope
of raising and improving their author. It is not to
be doubted that the fire of the poem is what a trans-
lator should principally regard, as it is most likely to
expire in his managing: however it is his safest way
 χὰ PREFACE.
to be content with preserving this to the utmost in
the whole, without endeavouring to be more than he
finds his author is in any particular place. It is a
great secret in writing to know when to be plain, and
when poetical and figurative ; and it is what Homer
will teach us, if we will but follow modestly in his
footsteps. Where his diction is bold and lofty, let us
raise ours as high as we can; but where his is plain
and humble, we ought not to be deterred from imitat-
ing him by the fear of incurring the censure of a
mere English Critick. Nothing that belongs to
᾿ Homer seems to have been more commonly mistaken
than the just pitch of his style: some of his trans-
lators having swelled into fustian in a proud confidence
of the sublime ; others sunk into flatness in a cold
and timorous notion of simplicity. Methinks I see
these different followers of Homer, some sweating and
straining after him by violent leaps and bounds (the
certain signs of false mettle), others slowly and ser-
vilely creeping in his train, while the Poet himself is
all the time proceeding with an unaffected and equal
majesty before them. However, of the two extremes
one could sooner pardon frenzy than frigidity: no
author is to be envied for such commendations as he
may gain by that character of style which his friends
must agree together to call szmplicity, and the rest
of the world will call dulness. There is a graceful
and dignified simplicity, as well as a bald and sordid
one, which differ as.much from each other as the air
 PREFACE. XXXi

of a plain man from that of a sloven: it is one thing

to be tricked up, and another not to be dressed at all.
Simplicity is the mean between ostentation and rus-
ticity.
This pure and noble simplicity is no where in such
perfection as in the Scripture and our Author. One
may affirm, with all respect to the inspired writings,
that the divine Spirit made use of no other words but
what were intelligible and common to men at that
time, and in that part of the world; and as Homer
is the author nearest to those, his style must of
course bear a greater resemblance to the sacred books
than that of any other writer. This consideration
(together with what has been observed of the parity
of some of his thoughts) may methinks induce a
translator on the one hand to give into several of those
general phrases and manners of expression, which
have attained a veneration even in our language from
being used in the Old Testament ; as on the other,
to avoid those which have been appropriated to the
Divinity, and in a manner consigned to mystery and
religion.
For a farther preservation of this air of simplicity.
a particular care should be taken to express with all
plainness those moral sentences and proverbial
speeches which are so numerous in this Poet. They
have something venerable, and as‘I may say oracular,
in that unadorned gravity and shortness with which
ΧΧΧΙΙ P-RiE F:A’C E.

they are delivered: a grace which would be utterly

lost by endeavouring to give them what we call a
more ingenious (that is, a more modern) turn in the
paraphrase.
Perhaps the mixture of some Grecisms and old
words after the manner of Milton, if done without too
much affectation, might not have an ill effect ina
version of this particular work, which most of any
other seems to require a venerable antique cast ἢ.
But certainly the use of modern terms of war and
government, such as platoon, campaign, junto, or the
like (into which some of his translators have fallen)
cannot be allowable{ ; those only excepted, without
which it is’ impossible to treat the subjects in any
living language. |
There are two peculiarities in Homer’s diction
which are a sort of marks or moles, by which every
common eye distinguishes him at first sight: those
who are not his greatest admirers look upon them as
defects, and those who are, seem pleased with them
as beauties. I speak of his compound epithets, and
of his repetitions. Many of the former cannot be

* Fenton, in particular, throughout his translation of four

books in the Odyssey, has studiously adopted on every possible op
portunity the Miltonian phrase ; and in very many instances with
great felicity. W.
+ Ogilby, who is very injudicious in this respect, and grossly
destitute of taste in his employment of coarse undignified expres~
sions of this nature, seems principally intended here. Ww.
4
 PREFACE. XXxil
done literally into the English without destroying the
purity of our language *. I believe such should be
retained as slide easily of themselves into an English
compound, without violence to the ear or the received
rules of composition ; as well as those which have
received a sanction from the authority of our best
Poets, and are become familiar through their use of
them ; such as the cloud-compelling Jove, &c. As
for the rest, whenever any can be as fully and sig-
nificantly exprest in a single word as in a compounded
one, the course to be taken is obvious. |
Some that cannot be so turned as to preserve their
full image by one or two words, may have justice
done them by circumlocution; as the epithet εἰνοσί-
φυλλος toa mountain, would appear little or ridiculous
translated literally Jleaf-shaking+, but affords a
majestic idea in the periphrasis :
The lofty mountain shakes his waving woods.
Others that admit of differing significations, may
receive an advantage by a judicious variation accord-
ing to the occasions on which they are introduced.
* The number of these would be found, I believe, upon experi-
ment to be extremely small. | W.
+ For what reason? Not from the incapacity of our language,
but because the word shake is trivial, and void of elevation. Sub-
stitute Jeaf-waving, and I descry nothing in the Greek compound
that is not adequately exhibited in the English: whereas in the
paraphrastic verse, independently of immoderate diffusion, we are
offended by tautology: for surely it is superfluous to inform us,
that the woods of a shaking mountain wave: the connexion is in-
evitable. W.
VOL. I. c
χΧχχὶν PREFACE.

For example, the epithet of Apollo, ἑκηξόλος, or far-

shooting, is capable of two explications; one literal
in respect of the darts and bow, the ensigns of that
God; the other allegorical with regard to the rays of
the sun: therefore in such places where Apollo is re-
presented as a God in person, I would use the former
interpretation, and where the effects of the sun are
described, I would make choice of the latter. Upon
the whole, it will be necessary to avoid that per-
petual repetition of the same epithets which we find
in Homer, and which, though it might be accom-
modated (as has been already shewn) to the ear of
those times, is by no means so to ours: but one may
wait for opportunities of placing them, where they
derive an additional beauty from the occasions on
which they are employed; and in doing this properly, a
translator may at onceshow his fancy and his judgment.
As for Homer’s Repetitions, we may divide them
into three sorts; of whole narrations and speeches,
of single sentences, and of one verse or hemistich. I
hope it is not impossible to have such a regard to these,
as neither to lose so known a mark of the author on
the one hand, nor to offend the reader too much on
the other. The repetition is not ungraceful in those
speeches where the dignity of the speaker renders
it a sort of insolence to alter his words; as in the
message from Gods to men, or from higher powers
to inferiors in concerns of state, or where the cere-
monial of religion seems to require it, in the solemn
 PREFACE. XXXKV

forms of prayers, oaths, or the like. In other cases,

I believe the best rule is, to be guided by the near-
ness, or distance, at which the repetitions are placed
in the original: when they follow too close, one may
vary the expression, but it is a question whether a
professed translator be authorized to omit any: if
they be tedious, the author is to answer for it*.
It only remains to speak of the Versification.
Homer (as has been said) is perpetually applying the
sound to the sense, and varying it on every new
subject. This is indeed one of the most exquisite
beauties of poetry, and attainable by very few: I
know only Homer eminent for it in the Greek, and
Virgil in Latin. I am sensible it is what may some-
times happen by chance, when a writer is warm, and
fully possest of his image: however it may be reason-
ably believed they designed this, in whose verse it
so manifestly appears in a superior degree to - all
others. Few readers have the ear to be judges of it ;
but those who have, will see I have endeavoured at
its beauty.
Upon the whole, I must confess myself utterly
incapable of doing justice to Homer. I attempt him
im no other hope but that which one may entertain
without much vanity, of giving a more tolerable

* Our poet has adhered to these judicious rules, imposed on

himself, with a laudable fidelity. He has varied the expression with
great taste in numerous examples, without any entire omissions of
those repetitions of his author, alluded to in this passage. Ww.
c 2
 ΧΧΧΥῚ PREFACE.

copy of him than any entire translation in verse has

yet done. We have only those of Chapman, Hobbes,
and Ogilby.. Chapman has taken the advantage
of an immeasurable length of verse, notwithstanding
which, there is scarce any paraphrase more loose and
rambling than his. He has frequent interpolations of
four, or six lines, and I remember one in the thir-
teenth book of the Odysses, verse 312, where he has
spun. twenty verses out of two. He is often mis-
taken in so bold a manner, that one might think he
deviated on purpose, if he did not in other. places
of his notes insist so much upon verbal trifles. He
appears to have had a strong affectation of extracting
new meanings out of his author, insomuch as to pros
mise, in his rbyming preface, a poem of the mys-—
teries he had revealed in Homer: and perhaps he
endeavoured to strain the obvious sense to this end.
His expression is involved in fustian, a fault for
which he was remarkable in his original writings, as
in the tragedy of Bussy d’Amboise, &c. In a word,
the nature of the man may account for his whole
performance: for he appears from his preface and
_ remarks to have been of an arrogant turn, and an
enthusiast in poetry. His own boast, of having
finished half the Iliad in less than fifteen weeks,
shows with what negligence his version was performed.
But that which is to be allowed him, and which very
much contributed to cover his defects, is a daring
fiery spirit that animates his translation, which is
 PREFACE. XXXVli

something like what one might imagine Homer him-

self would have writ before he arrived at years of
discretion.
Hobbes: has given us a correct explanation of the
sense in general, but for particulars and circum-
stances he continually lops them, and often omits the
most beautiful. As for its being esteemed a close
translation, I doubt not many have been led into that
error by the shortness of it, which proceeds not from
his following the original line by line, but from
the contractions abovementioned. He sometimes
omits whole similies and sentences, and is now and
then guilty of mistakes, into which no writer of his
learning could have fallen, but through carelessness.
His poetry, as well as Ogilby’s, is too mean for
criticism.
It is a great loss to the poetical world that Mr.
Dryden did not live to translate the Iliad.
He has left us only the first book, and a small part
of the sixth; in which if he has in some places not
truly interpreted the sense, or preserved the anti!
quities, it ought to be excused on account of the
haste he was obliged to write in. He seems to have \
had too much regard to Chapman, whose words he
sometimes. copies, and has unhappily followed him
in passages where he wanders from the original.
However, had he translated the whole work, I would
no more have attempted Homer after him than Virgil, ἘΠ
his version of whom (notwithstanding some human
ΧΧΧΥΤῚ PREFACE.

errors) is the most noble and spirited translation I

know in any language. But the fate of great ge-
niuses is like that of great Ministers, though they
are confessedly the first in the commonwealth of
letters, they must be envied and calumniated only
for being at the head of it.
That which in my opinion ought to be the en-
deavour of any one who translates Homer, is above
all things to keep alive that spirit and fire which
makes his chief character : in particular places, where
the sense can bear any doubt, to follow the strongest
and most poetical, as most agreeing with that cha-
racter ; to copy him in all the variations of his style,
and the different modulations of his numbers; to
preserve, in the more active or descriptive parts, a
warmth and elevation; in the more sedate or narrative,
a plainness and solemnity ; in the speeches, a fulness
and perspicuity; in the sentences, a shortness and
gravity ; not to neglect even the little figures and
turns on the words, nor sometimes the very cast of
the periods ; neither to omit nor confound any rites
or customs of antiquity: perhaps too he ought to
include the whole in a shorter compass, than has
hitherto been done by any translator who has tole-
rably preserved either the sense or poetry. What I
would farther recommend to him is, to study his
author rather from his own text, than from any
commentaries, how learned soever, or whatever figure
they may make in the estimation of the world; to
 PREFACE. ΧΧΧΙΧ

consider him attentively in comparison with Virgil

above all the ancients, and with Milton above all the
moderns. Next these, the Archbishop of Cambray’s
Telemachus may give him the truest idea of the spirit
and turn of our author, and Bossu’s admirable treatise
of the Epic poem the justest notion of his design
and conduct. But after all, with whatever judgment
and study a man may proceed, or with whatever
happiness he may perform such a work, he must hope
to please but a few; those only who have at once a
taste of poetry, and competent learning. For to
satisfy such as want either is not in the nature of
this undertaking ; since a mere modern wit can like
nothing that is not modern, and a pedant nothing
that is not Greek.
What I have done is submitted to the publick,
from whose opinions I am prepared to learn; though
I fear no judges so little as our best poets, who are
most sensible of the weight of this task. As for the
worst, whatever they shall please to say, they may
give mesome concern as they are unhappy men*,
but none as they are malignant writers. I was
guided in this translation by judgments very different
from theirs, and by persons for whom they have no
kindness, if an old observation be true, that the
strongest antipathy in the world is that of fools to
men of wit. Mr. Addison was the first whose advice

* Unhappy, from the torments of envy and unfriendly passions.

| WwW.
4
xl PREFACE.
determined me to undertake this task, who was
pleased to write to me upon that occasion in such
terms as I cannot repeat without vanity. I was
obliged to Sir Richard Steele for a very early recom-
mendation of my undertaking to the publick. Dr.
Swift promoted my interest with that warmth with
which he always serves his friend. The humanity
and frankness of Sir Samuel Garth are what I never
knew wanting on any occasion. I must also acknow
ledge, with infinite pleasure, the many friendly
offices, as well as sincere criticisms of Mr. Congreve,
who had led me the way in translating some parts of
Homer*. I must add the names of Mr. Rowe and
Dr. Parnell, though I shall take a farther opportunity
of doing justice to the last, whose good-nature (to
give it a great panegyrick) is no less extensive than his
learning. The favour of these gentlemen is not en-
tirely undeserved by one who béars them so true an
affection. But what can I say of the honour so
many of the Great have done me, while the first

* The following sentence is added in the first edition, and in

the last with Dr. Johnson’s lives: —* As I wish for the sake of the
«world he had prevented me in the rest.” The cooler judgment
of our poet, I presume, under a commendable persuasion of his
own vast superiority as a translator, of which it was impossible for
him to be unconscious, led him to disapprove an ebuilition of com<
pliment, excited by the warmth of friendship and an unreflecting
humility, in opposition to the truth. He had too much good sense
and magnanimity to incur one rea/ immorality to avoid the appear-
ance of another: to be insincere, for the temporary and unmanly
purpose of propitiating calumny by an aifected candour. Ww.
6
 PREFACE. ΧΙ

names of the age appear as my subscribers, and the

most distinguished patrons and ornaments of learning
as my chief encouragers. Among these it is a par-
ticular pleasure to me to find, that my highest obli-
gations are to such who have done most honour to
the name of Poet: that his Grace the Duke of
Buckingham was not displeased I should undertake
the author to whom he has given (in his excellent
Essay) so complete a praise*.
Read Homer once, and you can read no more;
- For all Books else appear so mean, so poor,
Verse will seem Prose: but still persist to read,
And Homer will be all the Books you need.

That the Earl of Halifax was one of the first to

favour me, of whom it is hard to say whether the
advancement of the polite arts is more owing to his
generosity or his examplet. ‘That such a genius as

* In the first edition :—“ the finest praise he ever yet received.”
But these sacrificial offerings of panegyric, so difficult to adjust
between the contending claims of Truth and Obligation, are liable
to much curtailment and qualification, when the first fervours of
devotion have subsided, and the clouds of incense suffer the light
of calm conviction to be transmitted to our eyes. W.
+ It will amuse the reader to hear from Spence a somewhat dif-
ferent judgment from our author on the critical discernment of
this noble person.
«« The famous Lord Halifax was rather a pretender to taste,
““ than really possessed of it. When I had finished the two or three
first books of my translation of the Iliad, that Lord desired to
“« have the pleasure of hearing them read at his house. Addison
““ Congreve, and Garth, were there at the reading. In four or
‘* five places, Lord Halifax stopt me very civilly, and with a speech

i
Δ
xhi PREFACE.
my Lord Bolingbroke, not more distinguished in the
great scenes of business, than in all the useful and
entertaining parts of learning, has not refused to be
the critick of these sheets, and the patron of their
writer. And that the noble author* of the Tragedy
of Heroic Love, has continued his partiality to me,
from my writing Pastorals, to my attempting the
Iliad. 1 cannot deny myself the pride of confessing,

“4. each time, much of the same kind.” “1 beg your pardon, Mr.
‘ Pope, but there is something in that passage that does not quite
4“ please me. Be so good as to mark the place, and consider it ἃ
* little at your leisure. I’m sure you can give it a little turn.’
“ς T returned from Lord Halifax’s with Dr. Garth, in his chariot ;
« and, as we were going along, was saying to the Doctor, that
«< my Lord had laid me under a great deal of difficulty by such
*< loose and general observation: that I had been thinking over the
«« passages almost ever since, and could not guess at what it was
““ that offended his Lordship in either of them. . Garth laughed
*« heartily at my embarrassment: said, I had not been long enough
* acquainted with Lord Halifax to know his way yet; that I need
“ς not puzzle myself about looking those places over and over,
** when I got home.” “ All you need do,’ says he, “ is to leave
“ them just as they are; call on Lord Halifax two or three months
‘ hence, thank him for his kind observations on those passages,
“ and then read them to him as altered.’ “I followed his advice;
waited on Lord Halifax some time after; said, ‘ I hoped he
“ would find his objections to those passages removed ;’ “‘ read them
* to him exactly as they were at first: and his lordship was ex-
“ tremely pleased with them, and cried out, Ay now they are per-
“< fectly right : nothing can be better.” ;
* Here also an original compliment is rescinded. The pas-
sage stood thus in the first edition: “ And that so excellent an
““ zmitator of Homer as the noble author of the tragedy of Heroic
« Love.”
The nobleman here intended was George Granville, Lord
Lansdown, Ww.
 PREFACE. xiii

that I have had the advantage not only of their

advice for the conduct in general, but their correction
of several particulars of this translation.
I could say a great deal of the pleasure of being
distinguished by the Earl of Carnarvon, but it is
almost absurd to particularize any one generous action
in a person whose life is a continued series of them.
Mr. Stanhope*, the present Secretary of State, will
pardon my desire of having it known that he was
pleased to promote this affair. The particular zeal
of Mr. Harcourt + (the son of the late Lord Chancel-
lor) gave me a proof how much 1 am honoured in a
share of his friendship. I must attribute to the same
motive that of several others of my friends, to whom
all acknowledgments are rendered unnecessary by the
privileges of a familiar correspondence; and I am
satisfied I can no way better oblige men of their
turn, than by my silence.
In short, I have found more patrons than ever
Homer wanted. He would have thought himself
happy to have met the same favour at Athens, that
has been shown me by its learned Rival, the Univer-
sity of Oxford. And I can hardly envy him those
pompous honours he received after death, when I
reflect on the enjoyment of so many agreeable obli-
* He was grandson to the first Earl of Chesterfield by a second
wife, and uncle to the father of the celebrated Earl of our times.
See Maty’s Memoirs. ἮΝ.
+ To whose memory our poet afterwards wrote an elegant and
pathetic epitaph.
xliv PREFACE.
gations, and easy friendships, which make the satis-
faction of life. This distinction is the more to be
acknowledged, as it is shown to one whose pen has
never gratified the prejudices of particular parties,
or the vanities of particular men. Whatever the
success may prove, I shall never repent of an under-
taking in which I have experienced the candour.and
friendship. of so many persons of merit; and. in
which I hope to pass* some of those years of youth — |
that are generally lost in a circle of follies, after a
manner neither wholly unuseful to others, nor disa-
greeable to myself.

* This part of the preface, therefore, must have been written

before the completion of his translation. Ww.
Ὡ i
! - =
| id See ΩΣ

ON THE

LIFE, WRITINGS, AND LEARNING

OF

H OM
E R.

THERE is something in the mind of man, which

goes beyond bare curiosity, and even carries us on to
a shadow of .friendship with those great geniuses
whom we have known to excel in former ages. _ Nor
will it appear less to any one, who considers how
much it partakes of the nature of friendship; how
it compounds itself of an admiration raised by what
we meet with concerning them; a tendency to be
farther acquainted with them, by getting every cir-
cumstance of their lives; a kind of complacency in
their company, when we retire to enjoy what they
 aiid AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
have left; an union with them in those sentiments
they ayprove; and an endeavour to defend them
when We think they are injuriously attacked, or even
sonetimes with too partial an affection.
There is also in mankind a spirit of envy or op-
position, which makes them uneasy to see others of
the same species seated far above them in a sort of
perfection. And this, at least, so far as regards the —
fame of writers* has not always been known to die
with a man, but to pursue his remains with idle
traditions, and weak conjectures; so that his name,
which is not to be forgotten, shall be preserved only
to be stained and blotted. The controversy, which
was carried on between the author and his enemies,
while he was living, shall still be kept on foot ; not
entirely upon his own account, but on theirs who
live after him; some being fond to praise extra-
vagantly, and others as rashly eager to contradict
his admirers. ‘This proceeding, on both sides, gives
us an image of the first descriptions of war, such as
the Iliad affords; where a hero disputes the field with
an army ’till it is his time to die, and then the battle,
which we expected to fall of course, is renewed
about the body; his friends contending that they
may embalm and honour it, his enemies that they
may cast it to the dogs and vultures.

* In the first edition :—“ so far as we speak of the fame of writers,

«has not always been known to die with a man entirely, but—.”
 ΄

AN ESSAY ON HOMER. xlvii

“There are yet others of a low kind of taste, who,
without any malignity to the character of a great
author, lessen the dignity of their subject by insist-
ing too meanly upon little particularities. They
imagine it the part of an historian to omit nothing
they meet with, concerning him; and gather every
thing without any distinction*, to the prejudice or
neglect of the more noble parts of his character: like
those trifling painters, or sculptors, who bestow in-
fmite pains and patience upon the most insignificant
part of a figure, till they smk the grandeur of the
whole, by finishing every thing with the neatest want
of judgment.
a Besides these, there is a fourth sort of men, who
pretend to divest themselves of partiality} on both
sides, and to get above that imperfect idea of their
subject, which little writers fall into; who propose
to themselves a calm search after truth, and a rational
adherence to probability in their historical collec-
tions: who neither wish to be led into the fables of
superstition}, nor are willing to support the injustice
of a malignant criticism; but, endeavouring to steer
m a middle way, have obtained a character of failing
* In the first edition :— concerning him whom they write upon,
“ gather every thing wherein he is named, without any distinc-
tion.”?— Ww.
+ In the first edition :—“ of impetuous emotions on both sides.” W.
{ In the first edition he wrote poetry for superstition, and_false-
hoods for injustice: and in this edition has. given’ perspicuity to
the conclusion of the paragraph, originally written thus:—< for
history, even from “ the darkest ages.” W.
ΧΙΨΗΙ AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
least in the choice of materials for history, though
drawn from the darkest ages.
Being therefore to write something concerning a
Life which there is little prospect of our knowing,
after it has been the fruitless inquiry of so many
ages*, and which has however been thus differently
treated by historians, I shall endeavour to speak of
it not as a certainty, but as the tradition, opinion, or
collection of authors, who have been supposed to
write of Homer in these four preceding methods ;
to which we also shall add some farther conjectures
of our own. After his life has been thus rather in-
vented than written, I shall consider him historically
as an author, with regard to those works which he
has left behind him: in doing which, we may trace
the degrees of esteem they have obtained in different
periods of time, and regulate our present opinion of
them, by a view of that age in which they were
writ.
I. I. If we take a view of Homer in
Storieswhich
mer, of Ho-
are those fabulous traditions which the ad-
the effects of ex- miration of the ancient heathens has
travagant ad-
miration. occasioned, we find them running to
superstition, and multiplied and contradictory to
one another,t in the different accounts which are
* It may be collected from Herodotus, ii. 53, that even this
historian was not clear within a century as to the precise time, in
which Homer lived, nor as to the comparative antiquity of him
and Hesiod. Ww.
+ In the first edition :— independent on one another.” W...
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. xlix
given with respect to Agypt and Greece, the two
native countries of fable.
We have one in* Eustathius most strangely framed,
which Alexander Paphius has reported concerning
Homer’s birth and infancy. That “ he was born in
“ Augypt of Dmasagoras and Jthra, and brought up
“by a daughter of Orus, the priest of Isis, who
“ was herself a prophetess, and from whose. breasts
“ drops of honey would frequently distil into the
“mouth of the infant. In the night-time the first
“sounds he uttered were the notes of nine several
“ birds ; in the morning he was found playing with
“ nine doves in the bed: the Sibyl, who attended
“him, used to be seized with a poetical fury, and
“ utter verses, in which she commanded Dmasagoras
“to build a temple to the Muses: this he performed
“ in obedience to her inspiration, and related all these
“ things to the child when he was grown up; who,
“in memory of the doves which played with him
“ during his infancy, has in his works. preferred this
“ bird to the honour of bringing Ambrosia to Jupiter.”
One would think a story of this nature, so fit for
age to talk of, and infancy to hear, were incapable
of being handed down to us. But we find the
tradition again taken up to be heightened in one
part, and carried forward in another. { Heliodorus,
who had heard of this claim which Kgypt put in for
+
* Eustathius in Od. 12. + Heliod. Athiop. 1. 3.
VOL. 1. D
1 AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
Homer, endeavours to strengthen it by naming
Thebes for the particular place of his birth. . He
allows too, that a priest was his reputed:father, but
that his real father, according to the opinion of Aigypt,
‘was'Mereury:: he says, “ That when the Priest was
‘ celebrating the rites of his country, and therefore
slept with his wife-in the Temple, the God ‘had
“knowledge of her, and begot Homer : that he was
“ born with tufts of hair on his * thigh, asa sign of
“unlawful generation, from whence he was: called
‘“ Homer by the nations through which he wandered :
“‘that he himself was the occasion why this»story
“of his divine« extraction is. unknown; because
“he ‘neither (014 his name, race, nor country,
“beg ashamed of his exile, to-which his reputed
“father drove: ‘him from. among the ‘consecrated
‘youths, on’ account οἵ that mark, which their
ἐς priests esteemed a testimony of an incestuous birth.”
These are the extravagant stories by which men,
who. have: not’ been able to express how much they
admire. him, transcend the bounds of probability to
say something extraordinary.. The mind, that. be-
‘comes dazzled with the sight of his performances,
loses the common idea of a man in the fancied splendor
of perfection: it deems nothing less than a God
worthy to be his Father,-nothing less than a-Pro-
-phetess deserving to: be -his nurse ; and, growing un-

* Ὁ ponpos, Femur.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER li
willing that he should be spoken of in a language
beneath its imaginations, delivers fables in
3 the place
of history.
But whatever has thus been offered to support
the claim of AXgypt, they who plead for Greece are
not to be accused for coming short of it. Their
fancy rose with a refinement as much above that of
their masters*, as the Greek imagination was superior
to that of the Aigyptians: their fiction was but a
veil, and frequently wrought fine enough to be seen
through, so that it hardly hides the meaning it is
made to cover, from the first glance of the imagina-
tion. For a proof of this, we may mention that
poetical genealogy which is delivered for Homer’s,
in the + Greek treatise of the contention between
him and Hesiod, and but little varied by the relation
of it in Suidas.
“ The Poet Linus (say they) was born of Apollo,
“and Thodse the daughter of Neptune. _Pierus of
“ Linus: agrus of King Pierus and the Nymph
“ Methone: Orpheus of QGiagrus and the Muse
“ Calliope. From Orpheus.came Othrys; from him
“ Harmonides; from him Philoterpus; from him
“ EKuphemus; from him Epiphrades, who begot Me-
“ nalops, the father of Dius; Dius had Hesiod the
“ Poet and Perses by Pucamede, the daughter of
* In the first edition :— above what we are supposed to have of
“ their masters; and frequently the veil of fiction 7s wrought fine
τ enough—=. ? Hence arose the repetition of imagination. W.
+ ᾿Αγὼν ‘Omnps τα Ἡσιόδε, )
D2
 lii AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
«“ Apollo: then Perses had Mzeon, on whose daughter
“ Crytheis, the river Meles begot Homer.”
Here we behold a wonderful genealogy, contrived
industriously to raise our idea to the highest, where
Gods, Goddesses, Muses, Kings, and Poets link in a
descent ; nay, where Poets are made to depend, as it
were, in clusters upon the same stalk beneath one
another. If we consider too that Harmonides is de-
rived from harmony, Philoterpus from love of de-
light, Euphemus from beautiful diction, Epiphrades
from intelligence, and Pucamede from prudence; it
||
may not be improbable, but the inventors meant, by
a fiction of this nature, to turn such qualifications
into persons, as were agreeable to his character for
|

whom the line was drawn : so that every thing divine

or great, will thus come together by the extravagant
indulgence of fancy, while Admiration turns itself
in some to bare Fable, in others to Allegory*.
After this fabulous tree of his pedigree, we may
regularly view him in one passage concerning his
birth, which, though it differs in a circumstance from
what has been here delivered, yet carries on the same
air, and regards the same traditions. Thereis a short
life of Homer attributed to Plutarch, wherein a third
part of Aristotle on poetry, which is now lost, is
᾿ quoted for an account of his uncommon birth, in this
manner. “Αἱ the time when Neleus, the son of

* In the first edition:—® while zt turns itself sometimes to ad-

* miration, and sometimes to allegory.” Ww:
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. lit
* Codrus, led the colony which was sent into Ionia,
“ there was in the island of I6 a young girl, compres-
“sed by a Genius, who delighted to associate with
“ the Muses and share in their consorts. She, finding
“ herself with child, and being touched with the
“ shame of what had happened to her, removed from
“ thence to a place called AXgina. There she was
“ taken in an excursion made by robbers, and being
“brought to Smyrna, which was then under the
*‘ Lydians, they gave her to Mzon the King, who
“ married her upon account of her beauty. But
** while she walked on the bank of the river Meles,
“she brought forth Homer, and expired. The
“ infant was taken by Meeon, and bred up as his son,
“ till the death of that Prince.” And from this point
of the story the Poet is let down into his traditional
poverty. Here we see, though he be taken out of
the lineage of Meles, where we met him before, he
has still as wonderful a rise invented for him; he is
still to spring from a Demigod, one who was of a
poetical disposition, from whom he might inherit a
soul tuned to poetry, and receive an assistance of hea-
venly inspiration.
In his life the most general tradition concerning
him is his blindness, yet there are some who will not
allow even this to have happened after the manner in
which it falls upon other men: chance and sickness
are excluded ; nothing less than Gods and heroes
must be visibly concerned. about him. Thus we
liv AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
find among the different accounts which * Hermias
has collected concerning his blindness, that when
Homer resolved to write of Achilles, he had an ex-
ééeding desire to fill his mind with a just idea of so
glorious ‘a hero: wherefore, having paid all due
honours at his tomb, he intreats that he may obtain
a sight of him. The hero grants his poet’s petition,
and rises in a glorious suit of armour, which cast so
unsufferable ἃ splendor, that Homer lost his eyes
while he gazed for the enlargement of his notions 7.
ΤΡ this be any thing more than a mere fable, one
would be apt to unagine it insinuated his contracting
a blindness by too intense an application while hé
wrote his Ihad. But it is a very pompous way of
letting us into the knowledge of so short a truth: it
looks as if men imagined the lives of poets should be
poetically written; that to speak plainly of them,
Were to speak contemptibly ; or that we debase them
when they are placed in less glorious company than
those exalted spirits which they themselves have been
fond to celebrate. We may, however, in some méa-
sure be reconciled to this last idle fable, for having
~

_ * Hermias in Phed. Plat. Leo Allat. de Patr. Hom.c. 10.

t One might suppose, not absurdly, that Gray had taken an im-
pulse from this fable in his fiction of Milton; a fiction, as nobly
conceived, as it is sublimely wrought:
The living throne, the sapphire blaze,
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw: but, blasted with excess of light,
Clos’d his eyes in endless night. Ww.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. ly
occasioned so beautiful an Episode in the Ambra of
Politian.. That which does not inform us in a. his-
tory, may please us in its proper sphere of poetry.
II. II. Such stories as these have been
Stories of Ho- the effects of a superstitious. fondness,
mer proceeding ’
from envy. and of the astonishment οἵ. men αὐ
what they consider * im a view of perfection.. But
neither have all the same taste, nor do they equally
submit to the superiority of others, nor bear that
human nature, which they know to be imperfect,
should be praised in an extreme, without opposition.
From some principles of this kind have arisen a
second sort of stories, which glance at Homer with
malignant suppositions, and endeavour to throw
a diminishing air over his life, as a kind of answer to
those who sought to aggrandize. him injudiciously.
. Under this head we may reckon those ungrounded
conjectures with which his adversaries asperse the
very design and prosecution of his travels, when they
insinuate that they were one continued search after
authors who had written before him, and particularly
upon the same subject, in order to destroy them, or to
rob them of their inventions.
Thus we read in + Diodorus Siculus, “ ‘That there
« was one Daphne, the daughter of Tiresias, who
* from her inspirations obtained the title of a Sibyl.

* In tlhe first edition :—= and of our astonishment at what we

consider—.”” W.
+ Diod. Sic. 1, 4.
lvi AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
«“ She had a very extraordinary genius, and being
“ς made priestess at Delphos, wrote oracles with won-
« derful elegance, which Homer sought for, and adorn-
“ ed his poems with several of her verses.” But she
is placed so far in the fabulous age of the world, that
nothing can be averred of her: and as for the verses
now ascribed to the Sibyls, they are more modern
than to be able to confirm the story ; which, as it is
universally assented to, discovers that whatever there
is in them in common with Homer, the compilers
have rather taken from him; perhaps to strengthen
the authority of their work by the protection of this
tradition.
The next insinuation we hear is from Suidas, that
Palamedes, who fought at Troy, was famous for
poetry, and wrote concerning that war in the Dorick
letter, which he invented, probably much against
Agamemnon and Ulysses, his mortal enemies. Upon
this account some have fancied his works were sup-
pressed by Agamemnon’s posterity; or that their
entire destruction was contrived and effected by Ho-
mer, when he undertook the same subject. But
surely the works of so considerable a man, when they
had been able to bear up so long a time as that which
passed between the siege of Troy and the flourishing
of Homer, must have been too much dispersed, for one
of so mean a condition as he is represented, to have
destroyed them in every place, though he had been
never so much assisted by the vigilant temper of Envy.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. lvii

And we may say too, that what might have beeu

capable of raising this principle in him, must be capa-
ble of being in some measure esteemed by others,
and of having at least one line of it preserved to us
as his.
After him, in the order of time, we meet with a
whole set of names, to whom the maligners of Homer
would have him obliged, without being able to prove
their assertion. Suidas mentions Corinnus Tliensis,
the secretary of Palamedes, who writ a poem upon
the same subject, but no one is produced as having
seen it. *Tzetzes mentions (and from Johannes
Melalay+ only) Sisyphus the Coan, secretary of
Teucer, but it is not so much as known if he writ
verse or prose. Besides these, are Dictys the Cretan,
secretary to Idomeneus, and Dares the Phrygian, an
attendant of Hector, who have spurious treatises
passing under their names. From each of these is
Homer said to have borrowed his whole argument ;
so inconsistent are these stories with one another.
The next names we find, are Demodocus, whom
Homer might have met at Corcyra; and Phemius,
whom he might have met at Ithaca: the one (as
+ Plutarch says) having according to tradition written
the war of Troy, the other the return of the Grecian

* Tzetzes, Chil. 5. Hist. 29.

+ The name is never thus written; some have it Malala, and
others Malela. Ww.
t Plutarch on Musick,
Iviil AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
captains. But these are only two names of friends,
which he is pleased to honour with eternity in his
poem, or two different pictures of himself, as author
of the Iliad and Odysses, or entirely the children of
his imagination, without any particular allusion. So
that his usage here puts me in mind of his: own
Vulcan in the * Iliad: the God had cast: two statues,
which he endued with the power of motion ; and it is
said presently after, that he is scarce able to go unless
they support him.
It is reported by some, says +Ptolemzeus Epheestio,
“ That there was before Homer a woman of Mem-
** phis, called Phantasia, who writ.of the wars of Troy,
“and the wanderings of Ulysses. Now Homer
* arriving at Memphis, where she had laid. up her
“ works, and getting acquainted with Phanitas, whose
* business it was to copy the sacred’ writings, he
“ obtained a sight of these, and “followed entirely the
* scheme she had drawn.” But this is a wild story,
which speaks of an Aigyptian woman with a Greek
name, and who never was heard of but upon this
account. It appears indeed from his knowledge of the
Aigyptian learning, that he was initiated into their
mysteries, and for aught we know by one Phanitas.
But if we consider what the name of the woman sig-
nifies, it seems only as if, from being used in a figura-
tive expression, it had been mistaken afterwards for
a proper name. And then the meaning will be that,
* Jliad, xviii, 87. + Ptol. Eph. Excerpt. apud Photium, 1.
4
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. lix
having gathered as much information concerning the
Grecian and Trojan story, as he could be furnished
with from the accounts of AXgypt, which were gene-
rally mixed with fancy and fable, he wrought out his
plans of the Iliad and the Odysses.
We pass all these stories, together with the little
Iliad of Siagrus, mentioned by * lian. But one
cannot leave this ‘subject without reflecting on the
depreciating humour, and odd industry of man,
which shews itself in raising such a number of insinu-
ations that clash with each other, and in spiriting up
such a crowd of unwarranted names to support them.
Nor can we but admire at the contradictory nature of
this proceeding; that names of works, which either
never were in being, or never worthy to live, should
be'produced only to persuade us that the most lasting
and beautiful poem of the ancients'was taken out of
them. A beggar might be content to patch up a
garment with such shreds as the world throws away,
but it is never to be imagined an Emperor would
make his robes of them.
After Homer had spent a considerable time in
travel, we find him towards his age introduced to such
an action as tends to his disparagement. It is not
enough to accuse him for spoiling the dead, they raise
a living author, by whom he must be baffled in that
qualification on which his fame is founded.
There is in + Hesiod an account of an ancient
* HBlian. 1,114. c. 2. + Hesiod. Op. & Dierum, 1. 2. ver. 272, &e.
 Ιχ AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
poetical contention at the funeral of Amphidamas, in
which, he says, he obtained the prize, but does not
mention from whom he carried it. There is also
among the */Tymns ascribed to Homer, a prayer to
Venus for success in a poetical dispute, but it neither
mentions where, nor against whom. But though they
have neglected to name their antagonists, others have
since taken care to fill up their stories by putting
them together. The making two such considerable
names in poetry engage, carries an amusing pomp in
it, like making two heroes of the first rank enter the
lists of combat. And if Homer and Hesiod had their
parties among the Grammarians, here was an excel-
lent opportunity for Hesiod’s favourers to make a
sacrifice of Homer. Hence a bare conjecture might
spread into a tradition, then the tradition give occa-
sion to an epigram, which is yet extant, and again
the epigram (for want of knowing the time it was
writ in) be alleged as a proof of that conjecture from
whence it sprung. After this a +whole treatise was
written upon it, which appears not very ancient,
because it mentions Adrian : the story agrees in the
main with the short account we find in t{Plutarch,
“ That Ganictor, the son of Amphidamas, King of
“ Eubcea, being used to celebrate his father’s funeral
“ games, invited from all parts men famous for
“strength and wisdom. Among these Homer and

* Hom. Hymn. 2. ad Venerem, — t ᾿Αγὼν Ὁ μυήρα ἡ Ἡσιόδῳ,

Φ Plut. Banquet of the seven wise men.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixi
“ Hesiod arrived at Chalcis. ‘The king Panidas pre-
“ sided over the contest, which being finished, he
“ decreed the Tripos to Hesiod, with this sentence,
“That the poet of peace and husbandry better
“ deserved to be crowned than the poet of war and
“ contention *. Whereupon Hesiod dedicated the
“« prize to the Muses, with this inscription :
© “Hoolod@- Μέσαις ‘Eamaviot τὸνδ᾽ ἀνέθηκεν,
“Ὕμνω νικήσας ἐν Χαλκιδὶ ϑεῖον “Opnpov.”
Which are two lines taken from that place in Hesiod
where he mentions no antagonist, and altered, that
the two names might be brought in, as is evident by
comparing them with these :
ὝΜμνῳ νικήσανϊα φέρειν τρίποδ᾽ ἀτωέγϊα,
Toy μὲν “Εγὼ Maons ᾿Ἑλικωνιάδεσσ᾽ ἀνέθηκα.
To answer this story, we may take notice that
Hesiod is generally placed after Homer. Greevius,
his own commentator, sets him a hundred years lower;
and whether he were so or no, yet + Plutarch has
slightly passed the whole account as a fable. Nay,
we may draw an argument against it from Hesiod
himself: he had a love of fame, which caused him to
engage at the funeral games, and which went so far
as to make him record his conquest in his own works ;
had he defeated Homer, the same principle would
have made him mention a name that could have
* Thus in the first edition :—“ with this elogy in the sentence,
«That the poet of peace and husbandry better deserved to be
““ erowned, than he who stirs us up to war and contention.” W.
+ Plut. Sym. 1. 5. § 2.
 Ixil AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
secured his own (ὁ immortality. A poet, who re- —*

cords his glory, would not omit the noblest circum-

stance, and Homer, like a captive Prince, had certain-
ly graced the triumph of his adversary. Ἶ
Towards the latter end of his life there is another
story invented, which makes him conclude it in a
manner altogether beneath the greatness of a genius.
We find, in the life said to be written by Plutarch, a
tradition, “ That he was warned by an oracle to
“ beware of the young men’s riddle. This remained
* long obscure to him, till he arrived at the island Io.
* There as he sat to behold the fishermen, they pro-
“ posed to him a riddle in verse, which he being unable
“ὁ to answer, died for grief.” . This story refutes itself
_by carrying superstition at one end, and folly at the
other. It seems conceived with an air of derision, to
lay a great man in the dust after a foolish manner.
The same sort of hand might have framed that tale
of Aristotle’s drowning himself because he could not
account for the Euripus: the design is the same, the
turn the same; and all the difference, that the great
men are each to suffer in his character, the one by a
poetical riddle, the other by a philosophical problem.
But these are actions which can only arise from the
meamness of pride, or extravagance of madness: a
soul enlarged with knowledge (so vastly as that of
Homer) better knows the proper stress which is to be
laid upon every incident, and the proportion of con- ἢ
cern, or carelessness, with which it ought to be affect-
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixiii
ed. But it is the fate of narrow capacities to measure
mankind by a false standard, and imagine the great,
like themselves, capable of being disconcerted by little
occasions ; to frame their malignant fables according
to this imagination, and to stand detected by it as by
an evident mark of ignorance.
Π|. The third mannerin which the bait
life of Homer has been written, is but poli’ ton
an amassing of all the traditions and ‘ling curiosity.
hints which the writers could. meet with, great or
little,.in order to tell a story of him to the world.
Perhaps the want of choice materials might put them
upon the necessity ; or perhaps an injudicious desire
_of saying all they could, occasioned the fault. How-
‘ever it be, a life composed of trivial circumstances,
which (though it give.a true account of several . pas-
sages) shews a man but little in that light in which he
was most. famous *, and has hardly any thing corre-
spondent to the idea we entertain of him; such a life,
I say, will never answer rightly the demand the world
has upon an historian. Yet the most formal account
we have of Homer is of this nature, 1 mean that
which is said to be collected. by Herodotus. It is, in
short, an unsupported minute treatise, composed. of
events which lie within-the compass of probability and
belong to the lowest sphere of life. It seems through
all its frame to be entirely conducted by the spirit of a
* In the first edition thus:—* passages) has but little of that
appearance in which a man was most famous.’? Ww.
Ixiv AN ESSAY ON HOMER.

Grammarian ;ever abounding with extempore verses,

as if it were to prove a thing so unquestionable as our
author’s title to rapture; and at the same time the
occasions are so poorly invented, that they misbecome
the warmth of a poetical imagination. There is
nothing in it above the life which a Grammarian
might lead himself; nay, it is but such a one as they
commonly do lead, the highest stage of which is to
be master of a school. But, because this is a treatise
to which writers have had recourse for want of a
better, I shall give the following abstract of it.
Homer was born at Smyrna, about one hundred
sixty-eight years after the siege of Troy, and six
hundred twenty-two years before the expedition of
Xerxes. His mother’s name was Crytheis, who
proving unlawfully with child, was sent away from
| Cumez by her uncle, with Ismenias, one of those who
led the colony of Smyrna, then building. A while
after, as she was celebrating a festival with other
women on the banks of the river Meles, she was
delivered of Homer, whom she therefore named Mele-
sigenes. .Upon this she left Ismenias, and supported
herself by her labour *, ’till Phemius (who taught a
school in Smyrna) fell in love with her, and married
her. But both dying in process of time, the school
fell to Homer, who managed it with such wisdom,
that he was universally admired both by natives and

* In the first edition: by working.” wy.

a

AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixv

strangers. Amongst these latter was Mentes, a
master of a ship from Leucadia, by whose persuasions
and promises he gave up his school, and went to
travel: with him he visited Spain and Italy, but was
left behind at Ithaca upon account of a defluxion in
his eyes. During his stay he was entertained by one
Mentor, a man of fortune, justice, and hospitality, and
learned the principal incidents of Ulysses’s life. But
at the return of Mentes, he went from thence to
Colophon, where, his defluxion renewing, he fell
entirely blind. Upon this he could think of no better
expedient than to go back to Smyrna, where perhaps
he might be supported by those who knew him, and
have the leisure to addict himself to poetry. But
there he found his poverty increase, and his hopes of
encouragement fail; so that he removed to Cume,
and by the way was entertained for some time at the
house of one Tychius, a leather-dresser. At Cumz
his poems were wonderfully admired, but when he
proposed to eternize their town if they would allow
him a salary, he was answered, that there would be
- no end of maintaining all the “Ounpo, or blind men*,
and. hence he got the name of Homer. From Cume
he went to Phoczea, where one Thestorides (a school-
master also) offered to maintain him if he would suffer

_ * So Hesychius : ὀμνηροίθ." ὁ τυφλίθ», & Lycophron, ver. 422.

Ὅμνηρον ὃς μυιν ϑήκε τετρῃνος λυχνὅς.
And it seems very probable that he acquired this name from his
blindness. . W.
VOL. I. E
Ixvi AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
him to transcribe his verses: this Homer complying
with through mere necessity, the other had no sooner
gotten them, but he removed to Chios; there the
poems gained him wealth and honour, while the
author himself hardly earned his bread by repeating
them. At last, some who came from Chios having
told the people that the same verses were published
thereby a school-master, Homer resolved to find him
out. Having therefore landed near that place, he
was received by one Glaucus, a shepherd, (at whose
door he had like to have been worried by dogs) and
carried by him to his master at Bollissus, who admir-
ing his knowledge, intrusted him with the education
of his children. Here his praise began to spread, and
Thestorides, who heard of his neighbourhood, fled
before him. He removed however some time after-
wards to Chios, where he set up a school of poetry,
gained a competent fortune, married a wife, and had
two daughters, the one of which died young, the other
was married to his patron at Bollissus. Here he in-
serted in his poems the names of those to whom he
had been most obliged, as Mentes, Phemius, Mentor,
and Tychius; and resolving for Athens, he made
honourable mention of that city, to prepare the Athe-
nians for a kind reception. But as he went, the ship
put in at Samos, where he continued the whole
winter, singing at the houses of great men, with a
train of boys after him. In spring he went.on board
again in order to prosecute his journey to Athens, but
4
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Levit
landing by the way at los, he fell sick, died, and was
buried on the sea-shore.
This is the life of Homer ascribed to Herodotus,
though it is wonderful it should be so, since it
evidently contradicts his own history, by placing
Homer six hundred twenty-two years before the ex-
pedition of Xerxes; whereas Herodotus himself, who
was alive at the time of that expedition, says, Homer
was only * four hundred years before him. However,
if we can imagine that there may be any thing of
truth in the main parts of this treatise, we may
gather these general observations from it: that he
showed a great thirst after knowledge, by under-
taking such long and numerous travels: that he mani-
fested an unexampled vigour of mind, by being able
to write with more fire under the disadvantages of
blindness, and the utmost poverty, than any poet
after him in better circumstances; and that he had
an unlimited sense of fame, (the attendant of noble
spirits) which prompted him to engage in new travels,
both under these disadvantages, and the additional
burthen of old age.
- But it will not perhaps be either‘improper or dif-
ficult to make some conjectures which seem to lay
open the foundation from whence the traditions which
frame the low lives of Homer have risen. We may
consider}, that there are no historians of his time,

* * Herod. tl. 2.
~ + More fully in the first edition: “ In the vo ΜῊΝ we may
consider. 70 W.
z 9
Ixvili AN ESSAY ON HOMER.

(or none handed down to us) who have mentioned

him; and that he has never spoken plainly of him-
self, in those works which have been ascribed to him
without controversy. However, an eager desire to
know something concerning him has occasioned man-
kind to labour the point under these disadvantages,
and turn on all hands to see if there were any thing
left which might have the least appearance of in-
formation. Upon the search they find no remains
but his name and works, and resolve to torture these
upon the rack of invention, in order to give some
account of the person they belong to.
The first thing therefore they settle is, That what
passed for his name must be his name no longer, but
an additional title used instead of it. The reason
why it was given, must be some accident of his life*.
They then proceed to consider every thing that the
word may imply by its derivation. One finds that
Ὃ μηρὸς signifies a thigh ; whence arises the tradition
in + Heliodorus, that he was banished Aigypt for
the mark on that part, which shewed a spurious
birth; and this they imagine ground enough to give
him the life of a wanderer. A second finds, that
Ὅμηρος signifies an hostage, and then he must be de-
livered as such in a war (according to { Proclus) be-
‘tween Smyrna and Chios. A third can derive the
name Ὁ μή ὁρῶν, non videns, from whence he must

* In the first edition: " Having thus found an end of the clue,
“ they proceed—.”? WwW.
“+-Hel. L 8. 1 Procl. vit. Hom.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixix
be a blind man (as in the piece ascribed to * He-
rodotus). A fourth brings it from ‘Opis ἐρεῖν, speak-
ing in council ; and then (as it is in Suidas) he must,
by a divine inspiration, declare to the Smyrnezeans,
that they should war against Colophon. A fifth finds
the word may be brought to signify following others,
or joining himself to them, and then he must be
called Homer for saying, (as it is quoted from
+ Aristotle in the life ascribed to Plutarch) that he
would Ομηρεῖν, or follow the Lydians from Smyrna.
Thus has the name been turned and winded, enough
at least to give a suspicion, that he who got a new
etymology, got a handle either for a new life of him,
or something which he added to the old one.
However, the name itself not affording enough
to furnish out a whole life, his works must be brought
in for assistance, and it is taken for granted, That
where he has not spoken of himself, he lies veiled
beneath the persons or actions of those whom he de-
scribes. Because he calls a poet by the name of
Phemius in his Odyssey, they conclude this { Phe-
mius was his master. Because he speaks of Demo-
docus as another poet who was blind, and frequented
palaces, he must be sent about blind, to sing at the
doors of rich men. If Ulysses be set upon by dogs
at his shepherd’s cottage, because this is a low ad-
venture, it is thought to be his own at Bollissus.

* Herod. vit. Hom. + Plut. vit. Hom.

1 Herod. vit, Hom. § Herod, vit, Hom.
——
τ
Ixx. AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
* And if he calls the leather-dresser, who made Ajax’s
shield, by the name of Tychius, he must have been
supported by such an one in his wants: nay, some
have been so violently carried into this way of con-
jecturing, that the bare +}smile of a woman who
works hard for her livelihood, is said to have been
borrowed from his mother’s condition, and brought
as a proof of it. Thus he is still imagined to intend
himself; and the fictions of poetry, converted into a

real facts, are delivered for his life, who has assigned
them to others. All those stories in his works which
suit with a mean condition are supposed to have
happened to him; though the same way of inference
might as.well prove him to have acted im a higher
sphere, from the many passages that shew his skill .
in government, and his knowledge of the great parts
of life. |
There are some other scattered stories of Homer
which fall not under these heads, but are however of
as trifling a nature; as much unfit for the materials
ef history, still more ungrounded, if possible, and
arising merely from chance, or the humours of men’:
such is the report we meet with from {Heraclides,
that “ Homer was fined at Athens for a madman ;”
which seems invented by the disciples of Socrates,
to cast an odium upon the Athenians for their con-
senting to the death of their master, and carries in

* Herod. vit. Hom, + Vid. M. Dacier’s Life of Homer.

¢ Diogenes. Laertius ex Heracl. in vita Socratis.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixxi
it something like a declaiming revenge of the schools,
as if the world should imagine the one could be
esteemed mad, where the other was put to death for
being wicked. Such another report is that in * A.lian,
“that Homer portioned his daughter with some of
“ his works for want of money; which looks but
like a whim delivered in the gaiety of fancy; a jest
upon a poor wit, which at first might have had an
Epigrammatist for its father, and been afterwards
gravely understood by some painful collector. In
short, mankind have laboured heartily about him to
no purpose ; they have caught up every thing greedily,
with that busy minute curiosity and unsatisfactory
inquisitiveness which Seneca calls the Disease of the
Greeks ; they have puzzled the cause by their at-
tempts to find it out; and, like travellers entirely de-
stitute of a road, yet resolved to make one over un-
passable deserts, they superinduce error, instead of
removing ignorance.
IV+. Whenever any authors have IV.
attempted to write the life of Homer, jeer i
clear from superstition, envy, and tri- cerning Homer,
flmg, they have grown ashamed of all these tradi-
tions. This, however, has not occasioned them to
* JElian, 1. 9. cap. 15.
+ Thus originally :«« Whenever men have set themselves to write
«<q life of Homer—.’? Some variations, still more trivial, I have
left unnoticed: which, however, may be probably disapproved by
those, who think, and not absurdly, with Dr. Johnson, “ that no
* fragment of so great a writer should be lost.” . WwW.
Ixxii AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
desist from the undertaking: but still the difficulty
which could not make them desist, has necessitated
them, either to deliver the old story with excuses, or
else, instead of a life, to compose a treatise partly of
criticism, and partly of character ; rather descrip-
tive, than supported by action and the air of history.
“τὶ; They begin with acquainting us, that
His time. ; ᾿ ᾿ :
the Time in which he lived has never
been fixed beyond dispute, and that the opinions of
authors are various concerning it: but the contro-
versy, in its several conjectures, includes a space of
years between the earliest and latest, from twenty-
four to about five-hundred, after the siege of Troy.
Whenever the time was, it seems not to have been
near that siege, from his own ἢ Invocation of the
Muses to recount the catalogue of the ships: “ For
“we, says he, have only heard a rumour, and: know
* nothing particularly.” It is rerharked by + Velleius
Paterculus, That it must have been considerably
later, from his own confession, that “ mankind was
“ but half as strong in his age, as im that he writ of ;”
which, as it is founded upon a notion of a gradual
degeneracy in our nature, discovers the imterval to
have been long between Homer and his subject.

* Hei δὲ wrc@ οἷον ἀκέομνεν Bde τι idwey, Iliad, ii. ver. 487.
+ Hic longe 4 temporibus belli quod composuit, Troici, quam
quidam rentur, abfuit, Nam fermé ante annos 950 floruit, intra
mille natus est: quo nomine non est mirandum quod sepe illud
usurpat, οἷοι vow βρότοι εἶσι, Hoc enim ut hominum ita seculorum
notatur differentia. Vell. Paterc. lib. 1.
1
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Lxxiii
But not to trouble ourselves with entering into all the
dry dispute, we may take notice, that the world is
inclinedto stand by the * Arundelian marble, as the
most certain computation of those early times; and
this, by placing him at the time when Diogenetus
ruled in Athens, makes him flourish a little before
the Olympiads were established; about three-hundred
years after the taking of Troy, and near a thousand
before the Christian A:ra. For a farther confirma-
tion of this, we have some great names of antiquity
who give him a contemporary agreeing with the com-
putation. + Cicero says, There was a tradition that
Homer lived about the time of Lycurgus.’ + Strabo
tells us, It was reported that Lycurgus went to Chios
for an interview with him. And even ᾧ Plutarch,
when he says, Lycurgus received Homer’s works
from the grandson of that Creophilus with whom he
had lived, does not put him so far backward, but
that possibly they might have been alive at the same
time.
The next dispute regards his coun- Hee τ
try, concerning which ||Adrian enquired ;
of the Gods, as a question not to be settled by men;
and Appion (according to 4] Pliny) raised a spirit for
his information. That which has increased the dif-

* Vide Dacier, Du Pin, &c. concerning the Arundelian marble.

+ Cicero Qu. Tuscul..1. 5. { Strabo, 1]. 10.
§ Plut. vita Lycurgi.
|| ᾿Αγὼν ‘Opunps κὶ Ἡσιόδε, of Adrian’s Oracle. 4] Plin.1. 30. cap. 2.
᾿χχὲν AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
ficulty, is the number of contesting places, of which
Suidas has reckoned up nineteen in one breath. But
his ancient commentator, *Didymus, found the
subject so fertile, as to employ a great part of his
four thousand volumes upon it. There is a prophecy
of the Sibyls that he should be born at Salamis in
Cyprus; and then to play an argument of the same
nature against it, there is the oracle given to Adrian
afterwards, that says he was born in Ithaca. There
are customs of AXolia and Aigypt cited from his works,
to make out by turns and with the same probability,
that he belonged to each of them. ‘There was a
school showed for his at Colophon, and a tomb at Io,
both of equal strength to prove he had his birth in
either. As for the Athenians, they challenged him
as born where they had a colony ; or else in behalf of
Greece in general, and as the metropolis of its
learning, they made his name free of their city (gu.
Licimad & Mutiad lege, says { Politian) after the
manner of that law by which all Italy became free of
Rome. ΑἸ] these have their authors to record their
titles, but still the weight of the question seems to
lie between Smyrna and Chios, which we must there-
fore take a little more notice of. That Homer was
born at Smyrna, is endeavoured to be proved by
an { Epigram, recorded to have been under the

* Seneca Ep 88, concerning Didymus.

+ Politian Pref. in Homerum.
{ Epigram on Pisistratus in the anonymous life before lene
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixxv
Statue of Pisistratus at Athens; by the reports
mentioned in Cicero, Strabo, and A. Gellius; and
by the Greek lives, which pass under the names of
Herodotus, Plutarch, and Proclus; as also the two
that are anonymous. The *Smyrnezans built a tem-
ple to him, cast medals of him, and grew so possest
of his having been theirs, that it is said they burned
Zoilus for affronting them in the person of Homer.
On the other hand, the Chians plead the ancient
authorities of +Simonides and {'Theocritus for his
being born among them. ‘They mention a race
they had, called the Homeridz, whom they reckoned
his posterity; they cast medals of him; they show
to this day an Homerium, or temple of Homer, near
Bollissus ; and close their arguments with a quotation
from the Hymn of Apollo (which is acknowledged
for Homer’s by )'Thucydides) where he calls himself,
“ ‘The blind man that inhabits Chios.” The reader
has here the sum of the large treatise of Leo Allatius,
written particularly on the subject ||, in which, after
having separately weighed the pretensions of all, he
concludes for Chios. For my part, I determine
nothing in a point of so much uncertainty ; neither
--* Vitruvius Procem. 1. 7.
+ Simonides Frag de brevitate vite, quoting a verse of Homer :
Ἕν δὲ τὸ κάλλιςον ΧΙ» ἔειπεν ἀνῇρ.
{ Theocritus zx Dioscuris, ad fin.
en KO worse
Ὑμνήσας Πριάμνοιο πόλιν 1% νης ᾿Αχαιῶν,
Ἰλιάδας TE μάχας.
§ Thucyd. lib,8, || Leo Allatius de patrid Homeri.
Ixxvi AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
which of these was honoured with his birth; nor
whether any of them was; nor again, whether each
may not have produced its own Homer; since
*Xenophon says, there were many of the name.
But one cannot avoid being surprised at the prodigious
veneration for his character, which could engage
mankind with such eagerness in a point so little
essential; that Kings should send to oracles for the
enquiry of his birth-place ; that cities should be in
strife about it, and whole lives of learned men should
be employed upon it ; that some should write treatises
concerning it ; that others should call up spirits about
it; that thus, in short, heaven, earth, and hell
should be sought to, for the decision of a question
which terminates in curiosity only.
If we endeavour to find the parents
His Parents.
of Homer, +the search is as fruitless.
tEphorus had made Mezon to be his father, by a
niece whom he defloured ; and this has so far obtained,
as to give him the derivative name of Meeonides.
His mother (if we allow the story of Mzon) is called
Crytheis: but we are lost again in uncertainty, if we
search farther ; for Suidas has mentioned Eumetis or
Polycaste ; and §Pausanias, Clymene, or Themisto;
which happens, because the contesting countries find

* Xenophon de Aiquivocis.
+ Originally :—We immediately perceive the search is fruitless.”
W.
t Plut. υἱέ Hom. ex Ephoro. - § Pausanias, 1. 10.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixxvil
out mothers of their own for him. ‘Tradition has
in this case afforded us no more light than what
may serve to show its shadows in confusion; they
strike the sight with so equal a probability, that we
are in doubt which to chuse, and must pass the
question undecided.
If we enquire concerning his own
His name.
name, even that is doubted of. He has
been called Melesigenes from the river where he was
born. Homer has been reckoned an ascititious name,
from some accident in his life: the Certamen Home-
ricum calls him once Auletes, perhaps from his
musical genius; and *Lucian, Tigranes; it may be
from a confusion with that 'Tigranes or }'Tigretes,
who was brother of Queen Artemisia, and whose
name has been so far mingled with his, as to
make him be esteemed author of some of the lesser
works which are ascribed to Homer. It may not be
amiss to close these criticisms with that agreeable
derision wherewith Lucian treats the over-busy hu-
mour of Grammarians in their search after minute
and impossible inquiries, when he feigns, that he had
talked over the point with Homer in the Island of
the Blessed. “ Lasked him, says he, of what country
“ he was? A question hard to be resolved with us;
* to which he answered, He could not certainly tell,
** because some had informed him, that he was of

* Lucian’s true history,.1. 2. + Suidas de Tigrete.

Ixxvill AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
* Chios, soitie of Smyrna, and others of Colophon ; !
“ but he took himself for a Babylonian, and said
“ he was called Tigranes, while he lived among
ἐς his countrymen; and Homer, while he was ἃ
ἐς hostage among the Grecians.”
At his birth he appears not to have
His blindness.
been blind, whatever he might be after-
wards. The *Chian medal of him (which is of
great antiquity, according to Leo Allatius) seats him
with a volume open, and reading intently. But
there is no need of proofs from antiquity for that
which every line of his works will demonstrate.
With what an exactness, agreeable to the natural
appearance of things, do his cities stand, his moun-
tains rise, his rivers wind, and his regions lie: ex-
tended ἢ How beautifully are the views of all thing's ¢
drawn in their figures, and adorned with their
paintings? What address in ‘action, what visible
characters of the passions inspirit his heroes ? ΤῈ is
not to be imagined, that a man could have been
always blind, who thus inimitably copies nature, who
gives every where the proper proportion, figure,
colour, and life: “ Quem si quis cecum genitum
“ putat (says {Paterculus) omnibus sensibus orbus
“ est’ He must certainly have beheld the creation,
considered it with a long attention, and enriched his

* The medal is exhibited at the beginning of this essay,

+ In the first edition :—*< the surfaces of all things.” Ww.
1 Paterculus, 1, 1.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixxix
fancy by the most sensible knowledge of those ideas
which he makes the reader see while he but describes
them.
As he grew forward in years, he was Εις fayeation
trained up to learning (if we credit and Master.
*Diodorus) under one “ Pronapides, a man of ex-
“ cellent natural endowments, who taught the Pe-
“ lasgick letter invented by Linusf.”
When he was of riper years, for his _.
His travels.
farther accomplishment and the gratifi-
cation of his thirst of knowledge, he spent a consi-
derable part of his time in travelling. Upon which
account, {Proclus has taken notice that he must have
been rich: “ For long travels, says he, occasion high
“ὁ expences, and especially at those times when men
“ could neither sail without imminent danger and
““ inconveniences, nor had a regulated manner of
* commerce with one another.” This way of rea-
soning appears very probable; and if it does not
prove him to have been rich, it shows him, at
least, to have had patrons of a generous spirit;
who observing the vastness of his capacity, believed
themselves beneficent to mankind, while they sup-

* Diod. Sic: 1.3. sil,

+ After Linus, there followed in the first edition :—* From him
* might he learn to preserve his poetry, by committing it to writ-
** ing ; which we mention, because it is generally believed no poems
* before his were so preserved ; and he himself in the third line
* of his Batrachomnomachia (if that piece be allowed to be his)
“ expressly speaks of writing his works in his tablets,” W.
ΟΣ Procl, witd Hom.
--Ύν-ς
tk
.-
xxx AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
ported one who seemed born for something extraor-
dinary.
Aigypt being at that time the seat of learning,
the greatest wits and geniuses of Greece used to
travel thither. Among these * Diodorus reckons
Homer, and to strengthen his opinion alleges that
multitude of their notions which he has received into
his poetry, and of their customs, to which he alludes a
σ
a

in his fictions: such as his Gods, which are named

from the first Egyptian Kings ; the number of the
Muses taken from the nine Minstrels which attended
Osiris ; the Feast wherein they used to send their
statues of their Deities into A‘thiopia, and to return
after twelve days; and the carrying their dead bodies
over the lake to a pleasant place called Acherusia
near Memphis, from whence arose the stories of
Charon, Styx, and Elysium. These are notions
which so abound in him, as ‘to make + Herodotus
say, He had introduced from thence the religion of
Greece. And if others have believed he was an
Agyptian, from his knowledge of their rites and
traditions, which were revealed but to few, and of
the arts and customs which were practised among
them in general; it may prove at least thus much,
that he must have travelled there{.
* Diod. Sic. J. 1.
+ Ἡσίοδον γὰρ % “O punpor ἑλικίαν τερωκοσίοισι ἔετεσι δοκέω μὲν Ζσρεσ' -

κυτέρος γενέσθαι, 1G 8 πλέοσι" ὅτοι δὲ εἰσι of womorceslss Seofoviny ‘ Baan,

% τοῖσι θεοῖσι τὰς ἐπωνυμυίῶς δόντες, τὸ τιμνὰς τε © τέχνας διελόντες, τὸ
δ sid éce
ὥβω (Ονύναντες. Herodot. 1, 2.
' In the first edition, “ that he was therein his travels?? W.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixxxi
As Greece was in all probability his native country,
and had then begun to make an effort in learning, we
cannot doubt but he travelled there also, with a
particular observation. He used the different dialects
which were spoken in its different parts, as one who
had been conversant with them all. But the argu-
ment which appears most irrefragable is to be taken
from his catalogue of the ships: he has there given
us an exact Geography of Greece, where its cities,
mountains, and plains, are particularly mentioned,
where the courses of its rivers are traced out, where
the countries are laid in order, their bounds assigned,
and the uses of their soils specified. This the ancients,
who compared it with the original, have allowed to
be so true in all points that it could never have been
owing to a loose and casual information : even Strabo’s
account of Greece is but a kind of commentary upon
Homer’s. εἴ’
We may carry this argument farther, to suppose
his having been round Asia Minor, from his exact
division of the Regnum Priami vetus (as Horace
calls it) into its separate Dynasties, and the account
he gives of the bordering nations in alliance with it.
Perhaps too, in the wanderings of Ulysses about
Sicily, whose ports and neighbouring islands are
mentioned, he might contrive to send his Hero where
he had made his own voyage before. Nor will the
fables he has intermingled be any objection to his
_ having travelled in those parts, since they are not
VOL. I. F
Ixxxii AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
related as the history of the present time, but the
tradition of the former. His mention of Thrace, his
description of the beasts of Lybia, and of the climate
inthe Fortunate Islands, may seem also to give us a
view of him in the extremes of the earth, where it
was not ‘barbarous or uninhabited. It is hard to set
limits to the travels of a man, who has set none to
that desireof knowledge which made him undertake
them. Who can say what people he has not ‘seen,
who appears to be versed in the customs of all? He
takes the globe for the scene on which he introduces
his subjects; he launches forward intrepidly, like one
to whom no place is new, and appears a citizen of
the world in general.
When he returned from his travels, Ἢ seems to
have applied himself to the finishing of his Poems,
however he might have either designed, begun, or
pursued them before. In these he treasured up his
various acquisitions of knowledge, where they have
been preserved through many ages, to be as well the
proofs of his own industry, as the instructions of
posterity. He could then describe his sacrifices after
the AXolian manner; or *his leagues with a mixture
of Trojan and Spartan ceremonies: the could then
‘compare the confusion of a multitude to that tumult
the had observed in the Icarian sea, dashing and
breaking among its crowd of islands: he could re-
+
* Tliad, iii, + Il. ii. verse 145.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixxxiii
present the numbers of an army, by those flocks of
*swans he had seen on the banks of the Cayster; or
being to describe that heat of battle with which
Achilles drove the Trojans into the river,+ he could
illustrate it with an allusion from Cyrene or Cyprus,
where, ‘when the inhabitants burned their fields, the
grasshoppers fled before the fire to perish in the
Ocean. His fancy being: fully replenished, might
supply him with every proper occasional image; and
his soul after: having enlarged itself, and taken in an
extensive variety of the creation, might be equal to
the task of an Iliad and an Odyssey.
In his old age, he fell blind, and His διά age aha
settled at Chios, as he says in the death.
Hymn to Apollo, which {as is before observed) is
acknowledged for his’ by Thucydides, and might
occasion both Simonides and 'Theocritus to call him
a Chian. {Strabo relates, That Lycurgus, the great
legislator of Sparta, was reported to have had a
conference: with Homer, after he had studied the
laws of Crete and Aigypt, in order to form his
constitutions. If this be true, how much a nobler
representation does it give of him, and indeed more
agreeable to what we conceive of this mighty genius,
than those ‘spurious accounts which keep him down
among the meanest of mankind? What an idea
could we frame.to ourselves, of a. conversation held

ΕΝ Thad, ii, ver) 461, t TL. xxi, ver. 12. t Strab. 1, 10.
F 2
 Ixxxiv AN ESSAY ON HOMER.

between two persons so considerable; a philosopher

conscious of the force of poetry, and a poet knowing
in the depths of philosophy; both their souls im-
proved with learning, both eminently raised above
little designs or the meaner kind of interest, and
meeting together to consult the good of mankind!
But in this I have only indulged a thought which is
not to be insisted upon; the evidence of history
Yather tends to prove that Lycurgus brought his
works from Asia after his death: which *Proclus
imagines to have happened at a great old age, on
account of his vast extent of learning +, for which a
short life could never suffice.
Ἐπ εν If we would now make a conjecture
and manners. concerning the genius and temper of
this great man; perhaps his works, which would
not furnish us with facts for his life, will be more
reasonably made use of to give us a picture of his
mind ; to this end therefore, we may suffer the very
name and notion of a book to vanish for a while,
and look upon what is left us as a conversation, in
order to gain an acquaintance with Homer. Perhaps
the general air of his works will become the general
character of his genius; and the particular observa-
tions give some light to the particular turns of his
temper. His comprehensive knowledge shows that
his soul was not formed like a narrow channel for a
* Procl. vita Hom.
+ The first edition has: his circumference of learning.” W.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Ixxxv
single stream, but as an expanse which might receive
an ocean into its bosom; that he had the strongest
desire of improvement, and an unbounded curiosity,
which made its advantage of every transient cir-
cumstance, or obvious accident. His solid and
sententious manner may make us admire him for a man
of judgment: one who, in the darkest ages, could
enter far into a disquisition of human nature ; who,
notwithstanding all the changes which governments,
manners, rites, and even the notions of Virtue, have
undergone, and notwithstanding the improvements
since made in the Arts, could still abound with so many
maxims correspondent to Truth, and notions ap-
plicable to so many Sciences. The fire, which is
so observable in his Poem, as to give every thing the
most active appearance, may make us naturally
conjecture him to have been of a warm temper and
lively behaviour ; and the pleasurable air which every
where overspreads it, may give us reason to think,
that fire of imagination was tempered with sweetness
and affability. If we farther observe the particulars
he treats of, and imagine that he laid a stress upon
the Sentiments he delivers, pursuant to his real
opinions ; we shall take him to be of a religious spirit,
by his inculcating in almost every page the worship
of the Gods. We shall imagine him to be a gener-
ous lover of his country, from his care to extol it
every where; which is carried to such a height, as
 Ixxxvi AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
to make * Plutarch observe, that though many: of the
Barbarians are made prisoners or suppliants, yet
neither of these disgraceful accidents (which~‘are
common to all nations in war) ever happens: to. one
Greek throughout his works. We shall take him to
be a compassionate lover of mankind, - from» his
numberless’ praises of ‘hospitality and charity;
(if indeed we are not to account for them, asthe
common writers of his life imagine, from his’ owing
his support to these virtues). Τὸ might seem from
his love of stories, with his’ manner οἵ telling
them sometimes, that he gave his own picture: when
he painted his Nestor, and, as wise as he was,’ was
no enemy to talking. One would think from his
praises of wine, his copious goblets, and. pleasing
descriptions of banquets, that he was addicted to a
cheerful, sociable iife, which Horace takes - notice of
as a kind of tradition:
“ Laudibus arguitur vint vinosus Homerus.”—
Ep. 19.4.1.
' And that he was not (as may be guessed of Virgil
from his works) averse to the female sev, will appear
from his care to paint,them amiably upon all occasions :
his Andromache’ and Penelope. are in each οἵ his
Poems most shining characters. of conjugal affection ;
even his Helena herself is drawn with all the soften-
ings imaginable; his soldiers are exhorted .to.combat
* Plutarch de Aud. Poetis.
 AN, ESSAY ON ἨΟΜΕΗ. Ἰχχχνὴ
with the hopes of women; his commanders are
furnished. with fair slaves in their tents, nor is the
venerable Nestor without a mistress.
_ It is true, that in this way of turning a book into
a man, this reasoning from his works to himself, we
can at best. but hit off a few out-lines of a character* :
wherefore I shall carry it no farther, but conclude
with one discovery which we, may make from his
silence ; a discovery extremely proper to be made in
this manner, which is, That he was of a very modest
temper. There is in all other Poets a custom of
speaking of themselves, and a vanity of promising
eternity to their writings, in both which Homer, who
has the best title to speak out, is altogether silent.
As to the last of them, the world has made him
ample. recompence ; it has given him that eternity he
would not promise himself; but whatever endeavours
have been offered in respect of the former, we find
ourselves still under an irreparable loss. That which
others have said of him has amounted to no more
than conjecture ; that which I have said is no farther
to be insisted on: I have used the liberty which may
be indulged me by precedent, to give my own opinions,
among the accounts of others, and the world may be
pleased to receive them as so many willing endeavours
to gratify its curiosity.

* It stood thus in the first edition :——“ a few out-strokes of a cha-

*¢ yacter: wherefore I shall decline the carrying it into more minute
* noints, and conclude—.”? . Ww.
Ixxxvii AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
Catalogue of his Lhe only uncontestable works which
Works. Homer has left behind him are the
Iliad and Odysses; the Batrachomyomachia, or
Battle of the frogs and mice, has been disputed, but
is however allowed for his by many authors ; amongst
whom *Statius has reckoned it like the Culer of Vir-
gil, a trial of his force before his greater perform-
ances. It is indeed a beautiful piece of raillery, in
which a great writer might delight to unbend himself:
an instance of that agreeable trifling, which has been
some time or other indulged by the finest geniuses, and
the offspring of that amusing and cheerful humour
which generally accompanies the character of a rich
imagination, like a vein of Mercury running mingled
with a mine of Gold.
The Hymns have been doubted also, and attributed
by the Scholiasts to Cynethus the Rhapsodist ; but
neither +'Thucydides, {Lucian, nor ᾧPausanias, have
scrupled to cite them as genuine||. We have the
authority of the two former for that to Apollo, though
it be observed that the word Νόμος is found in it,
which the book de Poest Homerica (ascribed to Plu-

* Statius Pref. ad Sylv. 1. + Thucyd. 1. 3.

+ Lucian. Phalarid. 2. § Pausan. Beotic.
|| This amounts to no proof at all: the artificers of these hymns
would not fail to favour the imposture by interweaving in the fabric
such materials, as approved ancients had produced from the genuine
compositions: and certain peculiarities of language, and innovations
in the quantity of words upon the uniform usage of the Iliad and
Odyssey, are incontestable proofs of a later fabrication. W.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. lxxxix

tarch) tells us, was notin use in Homer’s time. We

have also an authority of the last for a * Hymn to
Ceres, of which he has given us a fragment. That to
Mars is objected against for mentioning Τύραννος, and
that which is the first to Minerva, for using Τυχὴ,
both of them being (according to the author of the
treatise before mentioned) words of a later inven-
tion. The Hymn to Venus has many of its lines
copied by Virgil, in the interview between A‘neas
and that Goddess in the first ποιά. But whether
these Hymns are Homer’s, or not, they are always
judged to be near as ancient, if not of the same age
with him.
The Epigrams are extracted out of the life said to
be written by Herodotus, and we leave them as such
to stand or fall with it ;except the epitaph on Midas,
which is very ancient, quoted without its author both
by {Plato and {Longinus, and (according to §Laer-
tius) ascribed by Simonides to Cleobulus the wise
man ; who, living after Homer, answers better to the
age of Midas the son of Gordias.
The Margites, which is lost, is said by ||Aristotle
to have been a Poem of a comic nature, wherein
Homer made use of Zambick verses as proper for rail-
lery. It wasa jest upon the fair sex, and had its
name from one Margites, a weak man, who was the
subject of it. The story is something loose, as may
* Paus. Messen. + Plat.in Phed. + Longin. ὃ 36. Edit. Tollii.
ὃ Laertius in vité Cleobuli. || Arist. Poet. cap. 4.
1
Kv x! AN ESSAY ON HOMER.

be seen by the account of it still preserved in * Eu-

stathius’s Comment on the Odysses. |
The Cercopes was a satirical. work, which 15. also
lost: we may however imagine it was levelled against
the vices of men, if our conjecture be right that it was
founded upon the {old fable of Cercopes, a nation
who were turned into monkies for their frauds and
impostures.
The Destruction of Oechalia, was a Poem, of
which (according to Eustathius) Hercules: was the
Hero; and the subject, his ravaging that country;
because Eurytus the King had denied him his
daughter Iole.
The Ilias Minor was a piece which included both
the taking of Troy and the return of the Grecians:
in this was the story of Scnon, which Virgil has made
use of. +tAristotle has judged it not to — to
Homer. ‘
The Cypriacks, if it was upon them that Nevius
‘founded his Ilias Cypria, (as §Mr. Dacier conjec-
tures) were the love adventures of the ladies at the
siege: these are rejected by ||Herodotus, for saying
that Paris brought. Helen to Troy in three days;
whereas Homer asserts they were long driven from
place to place.
There are other things ascribed to him, such as the

* Kustath. in Odyss. 10. + Ovid. Metam.1. 14. de Cercop.

t Arist. Poet. cap. 24. § Dac. on Arist. Poet, cap. 24.
{| Hesiod. 1, 2.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Xci
Heptapection goat, the Arachnomachia, &c. in the
ludicrous manner; and the Thebais, Epigoni, or
second siege of Thebes, the Phocais, Amazonia, &c.
in the serious: which, if they were his, are to be
reputed a real loss to the learned world. Time, in
some things, may have prevailed over Homer himself,
and left only the names of these works, as memorials
that such were in being; but while the Ziad and
Odysses remain, he seems like a leader, who*, though
in his attempt of universal Conquest he may have lost
his advanced guards, or some few stragglers in the
rear; yet with his main body ever victorious, passes in
triumph through all ages.
The remains we have at present, of Monuments,
those Monuments Antiquity had framed one soe oh
for him; are but few. It could not be him.
thought that they who ‘knew so little of the life of
Homer, could have a right knowledge of his person :
yet they had statues of him as of their Gods, whose
forms they had never seen. “ Quinimd gue non
“ sunt, finguntur (says +Pliny) pariuntque desideria
“ non traditi cults, sicut in Homero event.” But
though the ancient portraits of him seem purely
notional, yet they agree (as I think 1 Fabretti has

* This paragraph is much improved from the first edition :—

τὸ who though he may have failed in a skirmish, has carried a
“ wictory, for which he passes in triumph through allfuture ages.” W.
+ Pliny, 1.35, .c. 2.
{ Raph, Fabret, Explicatio Veteris Tabelle Anagiypha Hom.
Iliad.
ΧΟΙῚ AN ESSAY ON HOMER.

observed) in representing him with a short curled

beard, and distinct’ marks of age in his forehead.
That which is prefixed to this book, is taken from
an ancient marble bust, in the palace of Farnese at
Rome.
In Bollissus near Chios there is a ruin, which was
shewn for the house of Homer, which * Leo Allatius
went on pilgrimage to visit, and (as he tells us)
found nothing but a few stones crumbling away with
age, over which he and his companions wept for
satisfaction.
They erected Temples to Homer in Smyrna, as
appears from + Cicero; one of these is supposed to
be yet extant, and the same which they shew for the
temple of Janus. It agrees with {Strabo’s descrip-
tion, a square building of stone, near a river, thought
to be the Meles, with two doors opposite to each
other, North and South, and a large niche within
the east wall, where the image stood: but M. Spon
denies this to be the true Homerium.
Of the medals struck for him, there are some both
of Chios and Smyrna still in being, and exhibited at
the beginning of this Essay. The most valuable
with respect to the largeness of the head, is that of
Amastris, which is carefully copied from an original
belonging to the present Earl of Pembroke, and is

* Leo, Allat. de patria Hom. cap.13. + Cicero pro Archia.

t Strabo, 1.14, Τὸ ‘Ownpesore sow rerpuyovO- ἔχεσω γεῶν Ὁμήρε
τἡ ξοάνον, &c. de Smyrna.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. XClll
the same which Gronovius, Cuperus, and Dacier
have copies of, but very incorrectly performed.
But that which of all the remains has been of
late the chief amusement of the learned, is the
marble called his Apotheosis, the work of Archelaus
of Prienne, and now in the palace of Colonna. We
see there a Temple hung with its veil, where Homer
is placed on a seat with a footstool to it, as he has
described the seats of his Gods; supported on each
side with figures representing the Jiad and the
Odysses, the one by a sword, the other by the orna-
ments of a ship, which denotes the voyages of
Ulysses. On each side of his foot-stool are mice, in
allusion to the Bbatrachomyomachia. Behind is
Time waiting upon him, and a figure with turrets
on his head, which signifies the World, crowning
him with the Laurel. Before him is an altar, at
which all the Arts are sacrificing to him as to their
Deity. On one side of the altar stands a boy, re-
presenting Mythology ; on the other a woman, re-
presenting History: after her is Poetry bringing the
sacred fire ; and in a long following train, Tragedy,
Comedy, Nature, Virtue, Memory, Rhetorick, and
Wisdom, all in their proper Attitudes,
 SECT. II.

Havine now finished what was proposed con-

cerning the history of Homer’s life, I shall proceed
to that of his works; and considering him no longer
as a Man, but as an Author, prosecute the thread
of his story in this his second life, through the dif-
ferent degrees of esteem which those writings have
obtained in different periods of time.
It has been the fortune of several great geniuses
not to be known while they lived, either for want of
historians, the meanness of fortune, or the love of
retirement, to which a poetical temper is peculiarly
addicted. Yet after death their works give them-
selves a life in Fame, without the help of an his-
torian; and, notwithstanding the meanness of their
author, or his love of retreat, they go forth among
mankind, the glories of that age which produced
them, and the delight of those which follow it. This
is a fate particularly verified in Homer, than whom
no considerable author is less known as to himself,
or more highly valued as to his productions.
The first publi- ‘The earliest account of these is said
ταί
orks bby min
Ly by *Plutarch to be some time after his
curgus. death, when Lycurgus sailed to Asia:
* Plut. vit, Lycurgi.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. xcv
“ There he had the first sight of Homer’s works,
“which were probably preserved by the grand-
““ children of Creophilus ; and having observed that
their pleasurable air of fiction did not hinder the
“ poet’s abounding in maxims of state, and rules of
“ morality, he transcribed and carried with him that
“ entire collection we have now among us.” For at
“ that time (continues this author) there was only an
“ obscure rumour in Greece to the reputation of these
*« Poems, and but a few scattered fragments handed
“ about, *till Lycurgus published them entire.” Thus
they were in danger of being lost as soon as they
were produced, by the misfortune of the age, a want.
of taste for learning, or the manner in which they
were left. to posterity, when they fell into the hands
of Lycurgus. He was a man of great learning, a
law-giver to a people divided and untractable, and
one who had a notion that poetry influenced and
civilized the minds of men ; which made him smooth
the way to his constitution by the songs of Thales the
Cretan, whom he engaged to write upon. obedi-
ence and concord. As he proposed to himself, that
the constitution he would raise upon this their union
should be of a martial nature, these poems. were of
an extraordinary value to him: for they came with
a full force into his scheme ; the moral they inspired
Was unity ; the air they breathed was martial; and
their story had this particular engagement for the
‘Lacedzemonians, that it shewed Greece in war, and
1
ΧΟΥῚ AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
Asia subdued under the conduct of one of their own
Monarchs, who commanded all the Grecian Princes.
Thus the Poet both pleased the law-giver and the
people ; from whence he had a double influence when
the laws were settled. For his Poem then became a
Panegyrick on their constitution, as well as a Register
of their glory ; and confirmed them in the love οἵ" it
by a gallant description of those qualities and actions
for which it was adapted. This made * Cleomenes
call him The Poet of the Lacedemonians: and
therefore when we remember that Homer owed. the
publication of his works to Lycurgus, we should
grant too, that Lycurgus owed in some degree the
enforcement of his laws to the works of Homer.
Their reception At their first appearance in Greece,
in Greece. they were not reduced+ into a regular
body, but remained as they were brought over, in
several separate pieces, called (according to {A‘lian)
from the subject on which they treated; as the battle
at the ships, the death of Dolon, the valour of
Agamemnon, the Patroclea, the grot of Calypso,
the slaughter of the Wooers, and the like. Nor
were these entitled Books, but Rhapsodies) ; from

* Plutarch, Apophtheg.
+ Reduced: in the first edition, digested ; a word more appli-
cable to something originally confused, and therefore judiciously
supplanted by one, that inferred a restitution to order and regula-
rity. W.
Ἅ Milian, 1. 13. cap. 14.
§ That is, poetry, or songs, stitched in detached portions, by a
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. xevii
whence they who sung them had the title of Rhap-
sodists. It was in this manner they began to be dis-
perst, while their poetry, their history, the glory
they ascribed to Greece in general, the particular
description they gave of it, and the compliment they
paid to every little state by an honourable mention,
so influenced all, that they were transcribed and sung
with general approbation. But what seems to have
most recommended them was, that Greece, which
could not be great in its divided condition, looked
upon the fable of them as a likely plan of future
grandeur. ‘They seem from thenceforward to have
had an eye upon the conquest of Asia, as a proper
undertaking, which by its importance might occasion
union enough to give a diversion from civil wars,
and by its prosecution bring in an acquisition of
honour and empire. This is the meaning of * Iso-
crates, when he tell us, “ That Homer's poetry was
“ in the greater esteem, because it gave exceeding
“ praise to those who fought against the Barbarians.
“ Our ancestors (continues he) honoured it with a

division of the entire work ; whence the modern application of the

term to wld and incoherent effusions, in a disparaging accepta-
tion. W.
* Οἶμαι δὲ tw ‘Owips ποίησιν μυείζω Aabsiv δόξαν, ὅτι καλῶς τὲς
πολέμνησαντας τοῖς βαρβάροις ἐνεκωμυίαισε" Ὁ διὰ τῶτο βεληθῆνωι TEs Προ-
γόνος ἡμυῶν ἔντεμνον αὐτϑ ποιῆσαι τὴν τέχνην, ἐν τε τοῖς τῆς μυδσικῆς ἀθλαῖς
ἢ τῇ παιδεύσει τῶν νεωτέρων ἵνα πολλάκις ἀκέοντες τῶν ἐπῶν, Exe
ϑάνωμνεν τὴν ἔχθραν σὴν πρὸς αὐτὲς ὑπάρχδσαν, τῷ ζηλᾶντες τὰς ἀρετὰς
τῶν ςρατευσαμνένων sms Τροίαν τῶν αὐτῶν ἔρίων ἐκείνοις ἐπιθυμνῶμνεν.
το
Tsocrat. Paneg.
VOL. I. G
XCVill AN ESSAY ON HOMER:

“place in education and musical contests, that by

“ often hearing it we should have a notion of an
“ original enmity between us and those nations ; and
“that admiring the virtue of those who fought at
“ΤΟΥ, we should be induced to emulate their glory.”
And indeed they never quitted this thought, till they
had successfully carried their arms. wherever Homer
might thus excite them.
Digested. into |But while his works were suffered to
order at Athens. Jie in a distracted * manner, the chain
of story was not always perceived, so that they lost
much of their force and beauty by being read dis-
orderly. Wherefore as Lacedzmon had the first
honour of their publication by Lycurgus, that of their
regulation fell to the share of Athens in the time of
+ Solon, who himself made a law for thew recital.
It was then that Pisistratus, the Tyrant of Athens,
who was a man of great learning and eloquence, (as
{ Cicero has it) first put together the confused parts
of Homer, according to that regularity im which they
are now handed down to us. He divided them into
the two different Works, entitled the Iliad and
Odysses ; he digested each according to the Author’s

* Tn the first edition :—* an unconnected manner.” Ww.

+ Diog. Laert. wit, Sol.
t Quis doctior iisdem illis temporibus, aut cujus eloquentia
literis instructior quam Pisistrati? Qui primus Homeri libros, con-
fusos antea, sic disposuisse dicitur ut nunc habemus. Cic. de Orat.
1. 3. Vide etiam A#1, 13.cap. 14. Liban. Panegyr. in Jul. Anonymam
Homeri vitam. Fusitis vero in Commentatoribus Dyon. Thracis.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. xcix
design, to make their plans become evident; and
distinguished each again into twenty-four books, to
which were afterwards prefixed the twenty-four
letters. There is a passage indeed in * Plato, which
takes this Work from Pisistratus, by giving it to
his son Hipparchus; with this addition, that he
commanded them to be sung at the feast called Pan-
athenza. Perhaps it may be, as + Leo Allatius has
imagined, because the son published the copy more
correctly : this he offers, to reconcile so great a testi-
mony as Plato’s to the cloud of witnesses which are
against him in it: but be that as it will, Athens
still claims its proper honour of rescuing the father
of learning from the injuries of time, of having re-
stored Homer to himself, and given the world a
view of him in his perfection. So that if his verses
were before admired for their use and beauty, as the
stars were, before they were considered scientifically as
a systemt, they are now admired much more for their
graceful harmony, and that sphere of order in which
they appear to move. ‘They became thenceforward
more the pleasure of the wits of Greece, more the sub-
ject of their studies, and the employment of their pens.
About the time that this new edition of Homer

* Plato zx Hipparcho.
+ Leo Allatius de Patriaé Hom. cap. 5.
{ Originally :—* as the stars were, before they were considered
* in a system of science, they are—.” And the reader will admire
with me, not the elegance only, but the sublimity of this com-
parison. W.
G2
c AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
was published in Athens, there was one Cynzethus,
a learned Rhapsodist, who (as the *Scholiast of
Pindar informs us) settled first at Syracuse in that
employment ; andif (as Leo Allatius believes) he had.
been before an assistant in the edition, he may be
supposed to have first carried it abroad. But it was
not long preserved correct among his followers; they
committed mistakes in their transcriptions and repeti-
tions, and had even the presumption to alter some
lines, and interpolate others. ‘Thus the works of
Homer ran the danger of being utterly defaced;
which made it become the concern of Kings and
Philosophers, that they should be restored to their
primitive beauty.
The edition in Jn the front of these is Alexander
Macedon under
Alexander. the Great, for whom they will appear
peculiarly calculated, if we consider that no books
more enliven or flatter personal valour, which was:
great in him to what we call romantick: neither has
any book more places applicable to his designs on
Asia, or (as it happened) to his actions there. It
was then no ill compliment in + Aristotle to purge
the Iliad, upon his account, from those errors and
additions which had crept into it. And so far was
Alexander himself from esteeming it a matter of
small importance, that he afterwards 1assisted in a
~ * Schol. Pind. in Nem. Od. 2.
+ Plut. zm vita Alexandri.
t Φέρεται γξἕν τίς διόρθωσις τῆς Ὁμήρϑ ποιάσεως ἡ ἐκ τῷ ΝάρθηκίΘα
λε[ομνένη τῷ ᾿Αλεξάνδρε μνετὰ τῷ περὶ Καλλισθένην x ᾿Ανάξαρχον ἔπελθόνΘ»,
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. ci
strict review of it with Anaxarchus and Callisthenes;
whether it was merely because he esteemed it a
treasury of military virtue and knowledge; or that
(according to a late ingenious conjecture) he had a
farther aim in promoting the propagation of it, when
he was ambitious to be esteemed a son of Jupiter,
as a book which treating of the sons of the Gods,
might make the intercourse between them and
mortals become a familiar notion. The review being
finished, he laid it up in a casket, which was found
among the spoils of Darius, as what best deserved so
inestimable a case; and from this circumstance it
was named, The Edition of the Casket.
The place where the works of Homer passions in
were next found in the greatest regard, Higypt.
is Agypt, under the reign of the Ptolemies. These
‘Kings being descended from Greece, retained always
a passion for their original country. The men, the
books, the qualifications of it, were in esteem in their
court ; they preserved the language in their family;
they encouraged a concourse of learned men ; erected
the greatest library in the world; and trained up
their princes under Grecian tutors; among whom
the most considerable were appointed for revisers of
Homer. The first of these was * Zenodotus, library-
keeper to the first Ptolemy, and qualified for this

% ((Ἰμειωσαμυένα ἔπειτα noorabivr@ εἰς Νάρθηκα ὃν εὗρεν ty Περσικὰ

γάζῃ πολυτελῶς κατεσκευωσμιένον, Strabo, lib. 13.
. * Suidas.
cil AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
undertaking by being both a Poet and a Gram-
marian: a compounded character, in which there
was fancy for a discovery of beauties, and a minuter
judgment for a detection of faults. But neither his
copy nor that which his disciple Aristophanes had
made, satisfying Aristarchus, (whom Ptolemy Phi-
lometor had appointed over his son Euergetes,) he
set himself to another correction with all the wit and
learning he was master of. He restored some verses
to their former readings, rejected others, which he
marked with obelisks as spurious, and proceeded
with such industrious accuracy, that, notwithstanding
there were some who wrote against his performance,
antiquity has generally acquiesced in it. Nay, so
far have they carried their opinion in his favour, as
to call a mar an Aristarchus, when they meant to
say a candid, judicious Critick *; in the same manner
as they call the contrary a Zoilus, from that Zoilus
who about this time wrote an envious criticism against
Homer. And now we mention these two together,
I fancy it will be no small pleasure to the benevolent
part of mankind, to see how their fortunes and cha-
racters stand in contrast to each other, for examples
to future ages, at the head of the two contrary sorts
of criticism, which proceed from good-nature, or
from ill-will. ‘The one was honoured with the offices

* Rather, a precise, discerning, and judicious critic; who

shewed no indulgence to false sentiment, ill-constructed verse, or
vicious composition. WW.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. cil
and countenance of the court; the other*, when
he applied to the same place for an encouragement
amongst the men of learning, had his petition rejected
with contempt. The one had his fame continued to
posterity ; the other is only remembered with infamy.
If the one had antagonists, they were obliged to pay
him the deference of a formal answer ; the other was
never answered but in general, with those oppro-
brious names of Thracian slave and rhetorical dog.
The one is supposed to have his copy still remaining;
while the other’s remarks are perished {, as things
that men were ashamed to preserve; the just desert
of whatever arises from the miserable principles of
ill-will or envy.
It was not the ambition of Aigypt ae ee
only to have a correct edition of Homer. other parts of
We find in the life of {the poet Aratus, ἌΡ
that he having finished a copy of the Odyssey, was
sent for by Antiochus king of Syria, and entertained
by him while he finished one of the Iliad. We read
too of others which were published with the names of
countries; such as the ᾧ Massaliotick and Sinopick;
as if the world were agreed to make his works in their

* Vitruv. ]. 7, in Procm.
+ Not altogether: one of his sayings, for example, is preserved
by Longinus in the 9th section of his treatise on the sublime ; who
tells us that Zoilus, alluding to Odyss. x. 241. called the com-
panions of Ulysses, whom Circe transformed into swine, weeping
porkets.
+ Author vite Arati, et Suidas in Arato.
§ Eustathius znztio Ilados.
Civ AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
revival undergo the same fate with himself; and
that as different cities contended for his birth, so they
might again contend for his true edition. But though
these reviews were not confined to Aigypt, the greatest
honour was theirs, in that universal approbation
which the performance of Aristarchus received; and
if it be not his edition which we have at present, we
know not to whom to ascribe it.
In India and Dut the world was not contented
Persia. barely to have settled an edition of his
works. ‘There were innumerable comments, in which
they were opened like a treasury of learning; and
‘translations, whereby other languages became
enriched by an infusion of his spirit of poetry.
*/Aflian tells us, that even the Indians had them in
their tongue, and the Persian kings sung them in
theirs. +Persius mentions a version into Latin by
Labeo; and in general the passages and imitations
which are taken from him are so numerous, that he
may be said to have been translated by piece-meal
into that and all other languages: which affords us
this remark, that there is hardly any thing in him
which has not been pitched upon by some author or
other for a particular beauty.
The extent and [Ὁ is almost incredible to what an
height of their height the idea of that veneration the
reputation in ᾿ ; : :
the Heathen ancients paid to Homer will arise, to
ha one who reads particularly with this

* Elian, 1, 12. cap. 48. + Persius, Sat, 1.

 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. cv
view, through all these periods. He was no sooner
come from his obscurity, but Greece received him
with delight and profit: there were then but few
books to divide their attention, and none which had
a better title to engross it all. They made some
daily discoveries of his beauties, which were still pro-
moted in their different channels by the favourite
qualities of different nations. Sparta and Macedon
considered him most in respect of his warlike spirit ;
Athens and Atgypt with regard to his poetry and
learning ; and all their endeavours united under the
hands of the learned, to make him blaze forth into an
universal character. His works, which from the
beginning passed for excellent poetry, grew to be his-
tory and geography ; they rose to be a magazine of
sciences ; were exalted into a scheme of religion ;
gave a sanction to whatever rites they mentioned,
were quoted in all cases for the conduct of private life,
and the decision of all questions of the law of nations;
nay, learned by heart as the very book of belief and
practice. From him the Poets drew their inspira-
tions, the Criticks their rules, and the Philosophers
a defence of their opinions. Every author was fond
to use his name, and every profession writ books upon
him, till they swelled to libraries. The warriors
formed themselves by his Heroes, and the oracles deli-
vered his verses for answers. Nor was mankind
satisfied to have thus seated his character at the top
of human wisdom, but being overborne with an imagi-
 cvi AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
nation that he transcended their species, they admit-
ted him toshare in those honours they gave the
Deities. They instituted games for him, dedicated
statues, erected temples, as at Smyrna, Chios, and
Alexandria; and *A®lian tells us, that when the
Argives sacrificed with their guests, they used to
invoke the presence of Apollo and Homer together.
The decline of aus he was settled on a foot of
their character adoration, and continued highly vene-
in the begin- ὃ :
ning of Christ- rated in the Roman empire, when
BAN: Christianity began. Heathenism was
then to be destroyed, and Homer appeared the father
of it; whose fictions were at once the belief of the
Pagan religion, and the objections of Christianity
against it. He became therefore very deeply involv-
ed in the question; and not with that honour which
hitherto attended him, but as a criminal who had
drawn the world into folly. He was on one hand
accused for having framed +fables upon the works of
Moses; as the rebellion of the giants from the build-
ing of Babel, and the casting Ate or Strife out of
heaven from the fall of Lucifer. He was exposed on
the other hand for those which he is said to invent,
as when {Arnobius cries out, “ This is the man who
“‘ wounded your Venus, imprisoned your Mars, who
“freed even your Jupiter by Briareus, and who finds
“ authorities for all your vices,” &c. Mankind was

* Elian, 1.9.cap.15. + Justin Martyr, Admonit. ad Gentes.

{ Arnobius adversus Gentes, 1. 7.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. ονἢ
*derided for whatever he had hitherto made them
believe; and + Plato, who expelled him his common-
wealth, has, of all the Philosophers, found the best
quarter from the fathers, for passing that sentence.
His finest beauties began to take a new appearance
of pernicious qualities; and because they might be
considered as allurements to fancy, or supports to
those errors with which they were mingled, they were
to be depreciated while the contest of faith was in
being. It was hence, that the reading them was dis-
couraged, that we hear Rufinus accusing St. Jerome
for it, and that {St. Austin rejects him as the grand
master of fable; though indeed the dulcissimé vanus
which he applies to Homer, looks but like a fondling
manner of parting with them.
This strong attack against our author, as the great
bulwark of Paganism, obliged those Philosophers who
could have acquiesced as his admirers, to appear as
his defenders ;who because they saw the fables could
not be literally supported, endeavoured to find a
hidden sense, and to carry on every where that vein
of allegory, which was already broken open with
success in some places. But how miserably were they
forced to shifts, when they made §Juno’s dressing in
the Cestus for Jupiter, to signify the purging of the

* Vid, Tertull. Apol. cap. 14.

+ Arnobius, ibid. Eusebius, Prep. Evangel. 1. 14. cap. 10.
Τ St. August. Confess. 1.1. cap, 14.
§ Plutarch on reading the Poets.
1
evil AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
air as it approached the fire / Or the story of Mars ——

and Venus, that inclination they have to incontinency

who are born when these planets are in conjunction:!
‘Wit and learning had here a large field to display
themselves, and to disagree in ;for sometimes Jupiter,
and sometimes Vulcan was made to signify the fire ;
or Mars and Venus were allowed to give us a lecture
of Morality at one time, and a problem of Astronomy
at another. And these strange discoveries, which
Porphyry* and the rest would have to pass for the
genuine theology of the Greeks, prove but (as Euse-
bius} terms it) the perverting of fables into a mystick
sense. They did indeed often defend Homer, but
then they allegorized away their Gods by doing so.
What the world took for substantial objects of adora-
tion, dissolved before its eyes into a figurative meaning,
a moral truth, or a piece of learning, which might
equally correspond to any religion ; and the learned
at last had left themselves nothing to worship, when
they came to find an object in Christianity.
Restoration of ‘Lhe dispute of faith being over, an-
nt cient learning reassumed its dignity,
racter. and Homer obtained his proper place
in the esteem of mankind. His books are now no
longer the scheme of a living religion, but become the
register of one of former times. They are not now
received for a rule of life, but val;ed for those just
* Porphyrius de Antro Nymph., &e.
+ Eusebii Prepar. Evangel. 1. 3. cap. 1.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. cix
observations which are dispersed through them.
They are no longer pronounced from oracles, but
quoted still by authors for their learning. Those
_remarks which the Philosophers made upon them
have their weight with us; those beauties which the
Poets dwelt upon, their admiration: and even after
the abatement of what was extravagant in his run of
praise, he remains confessedly a mighty genius, not
transcended by any which have since arisen; a
Prince *, as well as a Father, of Poetry.

* According to the testimony of those glorious verses in Lucre-

tius, book ii:
Adde repertores doctrinarum atque leporum,
Adde Heliconiadum comites ; quorum unus Homerus,
Sceptra potitus, eddem aliis sopitus quiete est:
which Dryden has rendered in his free and desultory manner, but
«< with a master’s hand and prophet’s fire :””
The founders of invented arts are lost,
And wits, who made eternity their boast.
Where now is Homer, who possess’d the throne?
The’ immortal work remains, the’ immortal author gone!
. Ww.
 SECT. III.

pier ie . ae Ir remains
ins in
1 thisis histori
historical essa y, to
learning of Ho- regulate our present opinion of Homer
ps τα by a view of his learning, compared
with that of his age. For this end he may first be
considered as a poet, that character which was his
professedly ; and secondly as one endowed with other
sciences, which must be spoken of, not as in them-
selves, but as in subserviency to his main design.
Thus he will be seen on his right foot of perfection in
one view, and with the just allowances which should
be made on the other. While we pass through the
several heads of science, the state of those times in
which he writ will show us both the impediments he
rose under, and the reasons why several things in him,
which have been objected to, ‘either could not, or
should not, be otherwise than they are.
ras: As for the state of Poetry, it was at
a low pitch in the age of Homer. ‘There
is mention of Orpheus, Linus, and Muszeus, venerable
names in antiquity, and eminently celebrated in fable
for the wonderful power of their songs and musick.
The learned Fabricius, in his Biblictheca Greca,
has reckoned about seventy who are said to have
written before Homer ; but their works were not pre-
δ’

AN ESSAY ON HOMER. cxi

served, and that is a sort of proof they were not
excellent*. What sort of Poets Homer saw in his
gwn time, may be gathered from his description of
{+Demodocus and Phemius, whom he has introduced
as opportunities to celebrate his profession. ‘The im-
perfect risings of the art lay then among the extem-
pore singers of stories at banquets, who were half
singers, half musicians. Nor was the name of poet
then in being, or once used throughout Homer’s
works. From this poor state of poetry, he has taken
a handle to usher it into the world with the boldest
stroke of praise which has ever been given it. It is
in the eighth Odyssey, where Ulysses puts Demodo-
cus upon a trial of skill. Demodocus having diverted
the guests with some actions of the Trojan war;
« t All this (says Ulysses) you have sung very ele-
“ gantly, as if you had either been present, or heard
“ it reported ; but pass now to a subject I shall give
“you, sing the management of Ulysses in the
“ wooden horse, just as it happened, and I will ac-
“ knowledge the Gods have taught you your songs.”
This the singer, being inspired from heaven, begins
immediately, and Ulysses by weeping at the recital
confesses the truth of it. We see here a narration
which could only pass upon an age extremely ig-

* Thus at first :—*< but their works were not preserved, and
“ can only be considered (if they were really excellent) as the happi-
“ ness of their own generation? 6 Ww.
+ Od. Ist and Od. 8th, t Odyss. 1. viii. ver. 487, &e.
 exii AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
norant in the nature of Poetry, where that claim of
inspiration is given to it which it has never since laid
down, and (which is more) a power of prophesying
at pleasure ascribed to it. ‘Thus much therefore we
gather from himself, concerning the most ancient
state of Poetry in Greece; that no one was honoured
with the name of Poet, before him whom it has
especially belonged to ever after. And if we farther
appeal to the consent of authors, we find he has
other titles for being called the first. * Josephus
observes, That the Greeks have not contested but
he was the most ancient, whose books they had in
writing. }Aristotle says, He was the “ first who
“ brought all the parts of a poem into one piece,” to
which he adds, “ and with true judgment,” to give
him a praise including both the invention and ‘per-
fectiont. Whatever was serious or magnificent made
a part of his subject: war and peace were the com-
prehensive division in which he considered the world;
and the plans of his poems were founded on the
most active scenes of each, the adventures of a siege,
and the.accidents of a voyage. For these his spirit
was equally active and various, lofty in expression,
* Joseph. contra Appion, 1. 1. + Arist. Poet. cap. 25.
1 This followed in the first edition :—“< And Horace acquaints.
<‘ us, that he invented the very measure which is called Heroick
ἐς from the subjects on which he employed it :
«« Res geste regumque, ducumque, et fortia bella,
“ς Quo scribi possint numero monstravit Homerus.”
Which he properly suppressed, as too strong a conclusion for the
“premises. . W.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. cx
clear in narration, ‘natural in description, rapid im
action, abundantin figures. If ever he appears less
than himself, it is from the time he writ in; and if
he runs into errors, it is from an excess, rather than
a defect’ of genius. Thus he rose over the poetical
world, shining out like a sun all at once; which if it
sometimes makes too faint an appearance, it is to be
ascribed only to the unkindness of the season that
clouds and obscures it*, and if he is sometimes too
violent, we confess at the same time that we owe all
things to his heat. |
As for his Theology, we see the
Theology,
Heathen system entirely followed. This
was all he could then have to work upon, and where
he fails of truth for want of revelation, he at least
shews his knowledge im his own religion by the tradi-
tions he delivers. But we are now upon a point to
be farther handled, because the greatest controversy
concerning the merit of Homer depends upon it.
Let us consider then, that there was an age in Greece,
when natural reason only discovered in general, that
there must be something superior to us, and corrupt
tradition had affixed the notion to a number of deities.
At this time Homer rose'with the finest turn imagin-
able for poetry, who designing to instruct mankind
in the manner for which he was most adapted +,

* It stood originally thus:—* is to be ascribed only to the

*¢ necessity ofthe season, that keeps zt at a distance ; and if—.” W, —
+ Thus in the first edition :—‘ adapted, writ poems wherein he
VOL, I. HL
οχὶν AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
made use of the ministry of the Gods to give the
highest air of veneration to his writings. He found
the religion of mankind consisting of Fables; and
their Morality and Political Instruction delivered in
Allegories. Nor was it his business when he under-
took the province of a Poet, (not of a mere Philo-
sopher) to be the first who should discard that which
furnishes Poetry with its most beautiful appearance :
and especially, since the age he lived in, by discover-
ing its taste, had not only given him authority, but
even put him under the necessity of preserving it.
Whatever therefore he might think of his Gods, he
took them as he found them: he brought them into
action according to the notions which were then
entertained, and in such stories as were then be-
lieved; unless we imagine so great an absurdity, as:
that he invented every thing he delivers. Yet there
are several rays of truth streaming through all this
darkness, in those sentiments he entertains con-
cerning the Providence of the Gods, delivered in
several allegories lightly veiled over, from whence
the learned afterwards pretended to draw new know-
ledges, each according to his power of penetration
and fancy. But that we may the better comprehend

«ς made use of the ministry of the gods to give the highest air of
ἐς surprize and veneration to his writings. He found the religion
“ of mankind wrapt up in fables; zt was thought then the easiest
“¢ way to convey morals to the people, who were allured to attention
“¢ by pleasure, and awed with the opinion of a hidden ἄγω: ἡ
“ς Nor was it.” W.
4

πε
νὰ
ες
“π
α
ο
τ
ς
e
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. CXV

him in all the parts of this general view, let us ex-

tract from him a scheme of his religion.
He has a Jupiter, a futher of Gods and men, to
whom he applies several attributes, as wisdom, justice,
knowledge, power, &c. which are essentially inherent
to the idea of aGod. * He has given him two vessels,
_ out of which he distributes natural good or evil for
the life of man: he places the Gods in council round
him; he makes + Prayers pass to and fro before
him; and mankind adore him with sacrifice. But
all this grand appearance wherein poetry paid a
deference to reason, is dashed and mingled with the
imperfection of our nature; not only with the apply-
ing our passions to the Supreme Being (for men have
always been treated with this compliance to their
notions) but that he is not even exempted from our
common appetites and frailties: for he is made to
eat, drink and sleep: but this his admirers would
imagine to be only a grosser way of representing a
general notion of happiness, because he says in one
place ες that the food of the Gods was not of the
same nature with ours. But upon the whole, while
he endeavoured to speak of a deity without a right
information, he was forced to take him from that
image he discovered in man; and (like one who,
being dazzled with the sun in the heavens, would
view him as he is reflected in a river) he has taken

* Tliad, xxiv. ver, 527. + Tliad, ix. ver. 408, "

τς t Tliad, v. 340.
H 2
we AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
off the impression not only ruffled with the emotion
of our passions, but obscured with the earthy mixture
of our natures.
_ The other Gods have all their provinces assigned
them: “ Every thing has its peculiar deity,” says
* Maximus Tyrius, “ by which Homer would in-
sinuate that the Godhead was present to all things.”
When they are considered farther, we find he has
turned the virtues and endowments of our minds into
persons, to make the springs of action become visible;
and. because they are given by the Gods, he repre-
sents them as Gods themselves. descending from
heaven. In the same strong light he shews our vices,
when. they occasion misfortunes, like extraordinary
powers which inflict them upon us; and even our
natural. punishments are represented as punishers
themselves; But when we come to see the manner
they are introduced in, they are found feasting, fight-
ing, wounded by men, and shedding a sort of blood +.
* Maxim. Tyrius. Diss. 16.
+ Longinus, in his ninth section, reflects on this subject with
much dignity and good sense. ‘ These indeed are exhibitions cal-
ἐς culated to raise terror, but, unless conceived as allegorical, are
ἐς prophane and indecorous. . For Homer appears to me, im relat
Ὥ ing the wounds of the gods, their dissensions, their acts. of
‘revenge, their tears, their bonds, and all their varieties of suf-
“ς fering, to have made his men in the Iliad as like gods as possible,
“ and his gods like men.”—Nor will the reader be displeased with
an observation of Cicero’s on the subject: Tusc. disp, i. 26.
Fingebat hec Homerus, et humana ad deos transferebat: divina
mallem ad nos. ‘ These were the fictions of Homer, thus trans-
“ ferring the affections of man to the Gods: I should have been
* better pleased, had he given man the perfections of divinity.”
 one

AN ESSAY ON HOMER. CXVii

in which his machines play a little too grossly ; the
fable, which was admitted to procure the pleasure of
surprise, violently oppresses the moral, and it may
be lost labour to search for it in every minute cir-
cumstance, if indeed it was intended to be there.
The general strokes are however philosophical, the
dress the poet’s, which was used for convenience, and
allowed to be ornamental*. And something’ still
may be offered in his defence, if he has both pre-
served the grand moral from being obscured, and
adorned the parts of ‘his works with such sentiments
of the Gods as belonged to the age he lived in; which
that he did, appears from his having then had that
success for which allegory was contrived. “It is
“9 the madness of men,” says {Maximus Tyrius, “ to
“ disesteem what is plain, and admire what is hidden ;
“this the: poets’ discovering, invented the fable for a
* remedy, when they treated of holy matters; which
* being more obscure than conversation, and moreclear
“ than the riddle, is a mean between knowledge and ig-
““ norance; believed partly for beingagreeable, and part-
“ly for being wonderful. Thus as Poets in name, and
“ Philosophers in éffect, they drew mankind gradually
“ to a search after truth, when the name of philoso-
“ pher would have been harsh and displeasing.”

* The sentence ran thus originally:—“ The main design was

*‘ however philosophical, the dress the poet’s, which zs used ‘for
** necessity, and allowed to be ornamental.” Ww.
+ Maxim. Tyrius,. Diss, 29.
 ΟΧΥΤῚῚ AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
When Homer proceeds to tell us our duty to these
superior beings, we find prayer, sacrifice, lustration;
-and all the rites which were esteemed religious, con-
stantly recommended, under fear of their displeasure.
‘Ve find too a notion of the soul’s subsisting after this
life; but for want of revelation he knows not what
to reckon the happiness of a future state, to any one
who is not deified: which is plain from the speech
of *Achilles to Ulysses in the region of the dead;
where he tells him, that he would rather serve the
“ poorest creature upon earth, than rule over all the
“ departed.” It was chiefly for this reason that Plato
excluded him his commonwealth ; he thought Homer
spoke indecently of the Gods, and dreadfully of a
future state +: but if he cannot be defended in every
thing as a theologist, yet we may say in respect of
his poetry, that he has enriched it from theology
with true sentiments for profit; adorned it with
allegories for pleasure; and by using some machines
which have no farther significancy, or are so refined
as to make it doubted if they have any, he has how-
ever produced that character in poetry which we call
the Marvellous, and from which the Agreeable
(according to Aristotle) is always inseparable.
If we take the state of Greece at
Politicks. : ie ; 5
his time in a political view, we find it

* Odyss. xi. ver. 488.

+ Then followed in the first edition :—“* In which sentence he
«¢ made no allowance for the times he writ in. But—” WwW.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. cxix
a *disunited country, made up of small states; and
whatever was managed in war amounted to no more
than intestine skirmishes, or piracies abroad, which
were easily revenged on account of their disunion.
Thus one people stole Europa, and another Id; the
Grecians took Hesione from Troy, and the Trojans
took Helena from Greece in revenge. But this last
having greater friends and alliances than any upon
whom the rapes had hitherto fallen, the ruin of Troy
was the consequence; and the force of the Asiatick
coasts was so broken, that this accident put a stop+
to the age of piracies. Then the intestine broils of
Greece. (which had been discontinued during the
league) were renewed upon its dissolution. War and
sedition moved people from place to place, during
its want of inhabitants; Exiles from one country
were received for Kings in another; and Leaders
took tracts of ground to bestow them upon their
followers. Commerce was neglected, living at home
unsafe, and nothing of moment transacted by any
but against their neighbours. Athens only, where
the people were undisturbed, because it was a barren
soil which nobody coveted, had begun to send colonies
abroad, being overstocked with inhabitants.
Now a poem coming out at such a time, with a

* See Thucydides, lib. 1.

ἡ A stop: but in the first edition much better, ax end: unless we
have here a typographical error for, “ put @ stop to the rage of
“6 piracies.”” WwW
ΟΧΧ AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
moral capable of healing these disorders by promot-
ing Union, we may reasonably think it was designed
for that end, to which it is so peculiarly adapted.
If we imagine therefore that Homer was a politician
in this affair, we may suppose him to have: looked
back into the ages past, to see if at any time these
disorders had been less; and to have pitched upon
that story, wherein they found a temporary cure;
that by celebrating it with all possible honour he
might instil a desire of the same sort of union into the
hearts of his countrymen. This indeed was:a work
which could belong to none but. a poet; when Gover-
nors had power only over small territories, and the
numerous Governments were every way independent.
It was then that all the charms of poetry were called
forth to insinuate the important glory of an alliance;
and the Iliad delivered as an Oracle from the Muses,
with all the pomp. of words and artificial influence.
Union among themselves was recommended, peace at
home, and glory abroad; and lest general precepts
should be rendered useless by misapplications*, he
gives minute and particular lessons concerning it: how
when their Kings quarrel their subjects suffer; when
they act in conjunction, victory attends them; there-
fore, when they meet in council, plans are drawn, and
provisions made for future action; and when in the
field, the arts of war are described with the greatest
* Originally ;—“ by mismanagements, he lets us into farther les-
*€ sons concerning it,”’ Ww.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. CXxi
exactness. ‘These were lectures of general concern
to mankind, proper for the poet to deliver, and Kings
to attend to; such as made Porphyry write of the
profit that princes might receive from Homer; and
Stratocles, Hermias, and Frontinus*, extract mili-
tary discipline out of him. Thus, though Plato
has banished him from one imaginary common-
wealth, he has still been serviceable to many real
kingdoms.
The morality of Greece could not be ;
: | Morality.
perfect while there was a natural weak-
ness in its government; faults in politicks are occa-
sioned by faults in Ethicks, and occasion them in their
turn. The division into so many states was the rise
of frequent quarrels, whereby men were bred up in a
rough untractable disposition. Bodily strength met
with the greatest honours, because it was daily neces-
sary to the subsistence of little governments, and that
headlong courage which throws itself forward to
enterprise and plunder, was universally caressed,
because it carried all things-before it. It is no wonder
in an age of such education and customs, that, as
+ Thucydides says, * Robbing was honoured, provided
“ it were done with gallantry, and that the ancient
“ poets made people question one another as they
-"

* T do not recollect any thing of this kind in Frontinus: but in

all these authorities our poet speaks only at second hand, and his
testimony must always be received with proportionate mistrust.
See, however, Frontin, ii, 3. 21. Ww.
+ Thucyd, lib,1.
CXxil AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
“ sailed by, if they were thieves ?* as a thing for
“‘ which no one ought to be scorned or upbraided.”
These were the sort of actions which the singers then
recorded, and it was out of such an age that Homer
was to take his subjects. For this reason (not a want
of morality in him) we see a boasting temper and un-
managed roughness in the spirit of his Heroes, which
ran out in pride, anger, or cruelty. It is not in him
as in our modern Romances, where men are drawn in.
perfection, and we but read with a tender weakness
what we can neither apply nor emulate. Homer
writ for men, and therefore he writ of them; if the
world had been better, he would have shewn it so; as
the matter now stands, we see his people with the
turn of his age, insatiably thirsting after glory and
plunder ; for which however he has found them ἃ
lawful cause, and taken care to retard their: success
by the intemperance of those very appetites.
_ In the prosecution of the story, every part of it has
its lessons of morality : there is brotherly love in Aga-
memnon and Menelaiis, friendship in Achilles and
Patroclus, and the love of his country in Hector.
But since we have spoken of the Iliad as more par-
ticular for its politicks, we may consider the Odyssey
as its moral is more directly framed for ethicks.
It carries the Hero through a world of trials both of
the dangerous and pleasurable nature. It shews him

* See Odyssey, iii. ver, 84—90. of our poet’s version.

 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. exxiii
first under most surprising weights of adversity,
among shipwrecks and savages ; all these he is made
to pass through, in the methods by which it becomes
a man to conquer; a patience in suffering, and a
presence of mind in every accident. It shews him
again in another view, tempted with the baits of idle
or unlawful pleasures; and then points out the
methods of being safe from them. But if in general
we consider the care our author has taken to fix his
lessons of morality by the proverbs and precepts he
delivers, we shall not wonder if Greece, which after-
wards gave the appellation of wise to men who settled
single sentences of truth, should give him the title of
the Father of Virtue, for introducing such a number:
To be brief, if we take the opinion of *Horace, he
has proposed him to us as a master. of morality ;. he
lays down the common philosophical division of good;
into pleasant, profitable, and honest; and then
asserts that Homer has more fully and clearly instruct-
ed us in each of them, than the most rigid
losophers.
Some indeed have thought, notwithstanding all
* Qui quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non,
Plenius et melius Chrysippo et Crantore dicit.
Hor. Ep. 2. lib. 1.
Who tells us, what to seek, or what to shun,
What in each state is fittest to be done,
In manner, style, more graceful, and more plain,
Than all the Casuists from Eliza’s reign.
Nevile’s Imitations.
WwW,
eXxiv AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
this, that Homer had only ‘a design to please in| his
inventions; and that others have since extracted
morals out of his stories (as indeed all stories are capa-
ble of being used so). -But this is an opinion concern-
ing Poetry, which the world has rather degenerated
into than begun with. The tradition of Orpheus’s
civilizing mankind by moral *poems, with others of
the like nature, may shew there was a better use of
the art both known and practised. There is also a
remarkable passage of this kind in the third book of
the Odyssey, that Agamemnon left one of the + Poets
of those times in his Court when he sailed for Troy;
and’ that’ his Quéen was preserved. virtuous. by his
songs, till Augysthus was forced to expel him in order
to'debauch her. Here he has hinted what a true
poetical spirit can do, when applied to the promotion
of virtue; and from this one may judge he could not
but design that himself, which he recommends as the
duty and merit of his profession. Others since his
time may have seduced the art to worse intentions;
but they who are offended at the liberties of some
poets, should not condemn all in the gross for trifling
or corruption ; especially when the evidence runs so
strongly for any one to the contrary.
We may in general go on to observe, that at the
time when Homer was born, Greece did not abound
in learning. For whereever Politicks and Morality
. ¥ In the first edition:
—« by Hymns on the Gods.” WwW.
+ Odyss. iii, ver. 267.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. CXXY
are weak, learning wants its peaceable air to thrive
in*.. He has however introduced as much of their
Learning, and even of what he learned from Agypt,
as the nature and compass of his work would admit.
But that we may not mistake the Eulogies of those an-
cients who call him the Father of Arts and Sciences,
and be surprised to find so little of them (as they are
now in perfection) in his works ; we should know that
this character is not to be understood at large, as if
he had included the full and regular systems of every
thing: he is to be considered professedly only in qua-
lity of a poet; this was his business, to which as what-
ever he knew was to be subservient, so he has not
failed.to’introduce those strokes of knowledge from
the whole circle of arts and sciences, which the subject
demanded, either for necessity or ornament}. And
secondly, it should be observed, that many of those
notions, which his great genius drew only from
nature and the truth of things, have been imagined to
proceed from his acquaintance with arts and sciences

* These alterations from the first edition seem unprofitable.

Thus originally :—“ to thrive in, and that opportunity which is
* not known in the ages of unsettled life. He is himself the man
““ from whom we have the first accounts of antiquity, either in its
* actions or learning; from whom we hear what Aigypt or Greece
* could inform him in, and whatever himself could discover by the
* strength of Nature or Industry. But however that we may
* not—.” WwW.
+ Instead of what follows to the next division of the subject,
the first edition had only :—“ This will appear on a fair view of
* him in each of these lights.” W.
€XXVi AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
invented long after; to which that they were appli-
cable, was no wonder, since both his notions and those
sciences were equally founded in truth and na-
ture.
ἀτρ. Before his time there were no his-
History. : i
torians in Greece; he treated histori-
cally of past transactions, according as he could be
informed by tradition, song, or whatever method
there was of preserving their memory. For this we
have the consent of antiquity; they have generally
more appealed to his authority, and more insisted on
it, than on the testimony of any other writer, when
they treat of the rites, customs, and manners of the
first times: they have generally believed that the acts
of Tydeus at Thebes, the second siege of that city,
the settlement of Rhodes, the battle between the
Curetes and the /A®tolians, the succession of the
Kings of Mycenz by the sceptre of Agamemnon,
the acts of the Greeks at Troy, and many other such
accounts, are some of them wholly preserved by him; _
and the rest as faithfully related as by any historian.
Nor perhaps was all of his invention which seems to
be feigned, but rather frequently the obscure traces
and remains of real persons and actions ; which as
*Strabo observes, when history was transmitted by
oral tradition, might be mixed with fable before it
came into the hands of the poet. “ This happened
“ (says he) to Herodotus, the first professed historian,
* Strabo, 1.1.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. CXXVil

** who is as fabulous as Homer when he defers* to

“the common reports of countries; and it is not to
“ be imputed to either as a fault, but as a necessity of
“ the times.” Nay, the very passages which cause
us to tax them at this distance with being fabulous,
might be occasioned by their diligence, and a fear of
erring, if they too hastily rejected those reports which
had passed current in the nations they described.
Before his time there was no such
7 ‘ Geography.
thing as Geography in Greece. For |
this we have the suffrage of +Strabo, the best of
Geographers, who approves the opinion of Hipparchus
and other ancients, that Homer was the very author
of it; and upon this account begins his treatise of
the science itself, with an encomium on him. As
to the general part of it, we find he had a know-
ledge of the earth’s being surrounded with the ocean,
because he makes the sun and stars both to rise and
set in it: and that he knew the use of the stars is
plain from his making 1Ulysses sail by the observa-
tion of them. But the instance oftenest alleged upon
this point is the (shield of Achilles; where he places
the earth encompassed with the sea, and gives the
stars the names they are yet known by, as the
Hyades, Pleiades, the Bear, and Orion. By the
ΟΝ That is, in the proper ‘signification of the word, when he
betakes himself, or pays regard : of which sense Dr. Johnson knew
no example for his Dictionary, Ww.
+ Strabo, ibid. initio. Η Odyss, 1, v. ver. 972.
ὃ Iliad, xviii, 482, &c.
CXXViil AN ESSAY ON HOMER.

three first of these he represents the constellations, of

the northern region ; and in the last he gives:a single
representative of the southern, to which (as it were
for a counter-balance) he adds a title of greatness,
σθένος ᾿Ωρίωνος. Then he tells us that the Bear, or
stars of the Arctick circle, never disappear; as an
observation which agrees with no other. And if to
this we add (what Eratosthenes thought he meant)
that the five plates which were fastened on the shield,
divided it by the lines where they met,- into the five
zones, it will appear an original design:of globes and
spheres. In the particular parts of Geography his
knowledge is entirely incontestable. Strabo refers to
him upon all occasions, allowing that he knew the
extremes of the earth, some of which he names, and
others he describes by signs, as the Fortunate Islands.
The same *author takes notice of his accounts con-
cerning the several soils, plants, animals, and cus-
toms; as Aigypt’s being fertile of medicinal herbs;
Lybia’s fruitfulness, where the ewes have horns, and
yean thrice a year, &c. which are knowledges that
make Geography more various and profitable. But
what all have agreed to celebrate is his description of
Greece, which had laws made for its preservation,
and contests between governments decided. by its
authority ; which +Strabo acknowledges to. have no
epithet, or ornamental expression for any place, that
is not drawn from its nature, quality, or circum-
* Strabo, ]. 1. t Strabo, 1. 8,
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. CXXIX
stances ; and professes (after so long an interval) to
deviate from it only where the country had undergone
alterations, that cast the description into obscurity.
In his time Rhetorick was not known :
Rhetorick.
that art took its rise out of poetry,
which was not till then established. “ The oratoria
“ elocution (says * Strabo) is but an imitation of the.
“ poetical; this appeared first and was approved:
“they who imitated it took off the measures, but
᾿ς still preserved all the other parts of poetry in their
“ writings: such were Cadmus the Milesian, Phe-
“ recydes, and Hecatzus. Then their followers
“ took something more from what was left, and at
“ last elocution descended into the prose which is now
“among us.” But if Rhetorick is owing to poetry,
the obligation is still more due to Homer. He (as
+Quintilian tells us) gave both the pattern and rise to
all the parts of it. “ Hic omnibus eloquentie parti-
“ bus exemplum et ortum. dedit: hunc nemo in
“ magnis rebus sublimitate, in parvis proprietate,
** superavit. Idem letus et pressus, jucundus et
“« gravis, tum copia tum brevitate admirabilis, nec
“ noeticd modo sed oratorid virtute eminentissimus.”?
From him, therefore, they who settled the art found it
proper to deduce the rules, which was easily done,
when. they had divided their observations into the
kinds and the ornaments of elocution. For the kinds,

* Strabo, 1. 8, + Quintil. 1, 10. cap. 1.

VOL. I. I
cxxx AN ESSAY ON HOMER.

the “ ancients (says * A. Gell.) settled them according

“to the three which they observe in his principal
“ speakers; his Ulysses, who is magnificent and
“ flowing; his Menelaus, who is short and close ;
“ and his Nestor, who is moderate and dispassioned,
“and has a kind of middle eloquence participating
“of both the formert.” And for the ornaments,
+ Aristotle, the great master of the Rhetoricians, shows
what deference is due to Homer, when he orders the
orator to lay down his heads, and express both the
manners and affections of his work, with an imita-
tion of that diction, and those figures, which the
divine Homer excelled in. This is the constant
language of those who succeeded him, and the opi-
nion so far prevailed as to make ᾧ Quintilian observe,
that they who have written concerning the art of
speaking, take from Homer most of the instances of
their similitudes, amplifications, digressions, and
arguments. |
Natural 'Philo- As to || Natural P hilosophy, the age
sophy. was not arrived when the Greeks culti-
vated and reduced into a system the principles of ‘it,
* Aulus Geil. 1. 7. cap. 14. |
+.-Compare our poet’s observations on Iliad iii. ver, 271.
ᾧ Arist. Topic. § Quint. 1. 10.
|| This first sentence was thus originally conducted :— As to
«‘ Natural Philosophy, the age was not arrived in which it flou-
ἐς rished.; however some of its notions may be traced in him. As
<< when he saysthat the fountains and rivers come from the ocean,
“‘ he holds a circulation of fluids on the earth. But as this—.” I
cannot discern why this example was suppressed. W.
 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. Cxxxi
which they learned from Aigypt: yet we see many
of these principles delivered up and down in his
work. But, as this is a branch of learning which
does not lie much in the way of a Poet who speaks
of heroes and wars, the desire to prove his knowledge
this way, has only run *Politian and others into
trifling inferences ; as when they would have it that
he understood the secrets of philosophy, because he
mentions sun, rain, wind, and thunder. The most
plausible way of making out his knowledge in this
kind is, by supposing he couched it in allegories;
and that he sometimes used the zames of the Gods
as his Terms for the Elements, as the Chymists now
use them for Metals. But in applying this to him
we must tread very carefully; not searching for
allegory too industriously, where the passage may :
instruct by example; and endeavouring rather to
find the fable an ornament to: plain truths, than to
make it a coverto curious and unknown problems.
As for Medicine, something of it Physic
must have been understood in that age;
though in Greece it was so far from perfection, that
what concerned Diet was invented long after by
Hippocrates. The accidents of life make the search
after remedies too indispensable a duty to be neglected
at any time. Accordingly he {tells us, that the
Migyptians, who had many medicinal plants in their

* Politian, Prefatio in Hom. + Odyss. 1. iv. ver, 231.

} 13

eee
ee
ΟΧΧΧΗ AN ESSAY ON HOMER.

country, were all physicians ; and perhaps he might

have learnt his own skill from his acquaintance with
that nation. The state of war which Greece had
lived in required a knowledge in the healing of
wounds: and this might make him breed his princes,
Achilles, Patroclus, Podalirius, and Machaon, to the
science. What Homer thus attributes to others, he
knew himself, and he has given us reason to believe,
not slightly. For if we consider his insight into the
structure of the human body, it is so nice, that he
has been judged by some to have wounded. his heroes
with too much science: or if we observe his cure of
wounds, which are the accidents proper to an epic
poem, we find him directing the chirurgical operation,
sometimes infusing *lenitives, and at other times
bitter powders when the effusion of blood Biceicnien
astringent qualities.
For Statuary, it appears by the
Statuary.
accounts of Augypt and the Palladium,
that there was enough of it very early in the world,
for those images which were required in the worship
of their Gods; but there are none mentioned as
valuable in Greece so early, nor was the art esta-
blished on its rules before Homer. He found it
agreeable to the worship in use, and necessary for his
machinery, that his Gods should be cloathed im
bodies: wherefore he took care to give them such as

* Wiad, iv. ver. 218, and Iliad, xi, in fine,

 AN ESSAY ON HOMER. CXXXIii

carried the utmost perfection of the human form;

and distinguished them from each other even in this
superior beauty, with such marks as were agreeable
to each of the Deities. “ This,” says *Strabo,
“awakened the conceptions of the most eminent
“ statuaries, while they strove to keep up the gran-
“deur of that idea which Homer had impressed
*“ upon the imagination, as we read of Phidias con-
“cerning their statue of Jupiter.” And because
they copied their Gods from him in their best per-
formances, his descriptions became the characters
which were afterwards pursued in all works of good
taste. Hence came the common saying of the
ancients, “ That either Homer was the only man
“ who had seen the forms of the Gods, or the only one
*“ who had shown them to men;” a passage which
{Madame Dacier wrests to prove the truth of his
theology, different from Strabo’s acceptation of it.
There are, besides what we have spoken of, other
sciences pretended to-be found inhim. Thus Macro-
bius discovers that the chain with which {Jupiter
says he could lift the world, is a metaphysical notion,
that means a connexion of all things from the Su-
preme Being to the meanest part of the creation.
Others, to prove him skilful in judicial Astrology,
bring a quotation concerning the births of ᾧHector

* Strab. 1. 8. + Dacier, Preface to Homer.

+ Il. viii. ver. 19. Vid. Macrob. de somn. Scip.1. 1. ο, 14.
ὃ Il. xviii. ver. 252. |
cxxxiv AN ESSAY ON HOMER.
and Polydamas on the same night; who were never-
theless of different qualifications, one excelling im
war, and the other in eloquence: others again will
have him to be versed in Wagick, from his stories
concerning Circe. These and many of the like
nature are interpretations strained or trifling, such as
are not wanted for a proof of Homer’s learning, and
by which we contribute nothing to raise his character,
while we sacrifice our judgment to him in the eyes of
others.
It.is sufficient to have gone thus far, in showing he
was a father of learning, a soul capable of ranging
over the whole creation with an intellectual view,
shining alone in an age of obscurity, and shining
beyond those who have had the advantage of more
learned ages; leaving behind him a work not only
adorned with all the knowledge of his own time, but
in which he has beforehand broken up the fountains
of several sciences which were brought nearer to
perfection by posterity: a work which shall always
stand at the top of the sublime character, to be gazed
at by readers with an admiration of its perfection,
and by writers with a despair that it should ever be
emulated with success.
 Α

GENERAL VIEW
OF THE

KEPICK POEM,
AND OF THE

ILIAD AND ODYSSEY.

Extracted from Bossu*.

SECT. I.

THE Fables of Poets were originally employed in

representing the Divine Nature, according to the
notion then conceived of it. This sublime subject
occasioned the first Poets to be called Divines+, and
Poetry the language of the Gods. They divided the di-
vine attributes into so many persons ; because the infir-
mity of a human mind cannot sufficiently conceive, or
explain, so much power and action in a simplicity so

* Of the Nature of Epick Poetry.

+ As, for example, in Odyssey, A. 336. ϑειον wed, the divine
bard. But the name rather arose, I presume, from their office, as
teachers of religion and morality, commissioned and inspired by
the Gods; as their representatives and messengers to mankind.
W.
1
ΟΧΧΧΥῚ A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

great and indivisible as that of God. And perhaps

they were also jealous of the advantages they reaped
from such excellent and exalted learning, and of
which they thought the vulgar part of mankind was
not worthy.
They could not describe the operations of this
almighty cause, without speaking at the same time of
its effects: so that to Divinity they added Physiology,
and treated of both without quitting the umbrages
of their allegorical expressions.
But man being the chief and most noble of all that
God produced, and nothing being so proper, or more
useful to Poets than this subject, they added it to
the former, and treated of the doctrine of Morality after
the same manner as they did that of Divinity and Phi-
losophy : and from Morality thus treated, is formed
that kind of Poem and Fable which we call Epick.
The Poets did the same in Morality that the
Divines had done in Divinity. But that infinite
variety of the actions and operations of the Divine
Nature (to which our understanding bears so small a
proportion) did as it were force them upon dividing
the single idea of the only one God into several per-
sons, under the different names of Jupiter, Juno,
Neptune, and the rest.
And on the other hand, the nature of Moral Phi-
losophy being such, as never to treat of things in par-
ticular, but in general; the Epick poets were obliged
to unite in one single idea, in one and the same
person, and in an action which appeared singular, all
that looked like it in different persons, and in various
actions ;which might be thus contained as so many
Species under their Genus.
5
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. CXxXvii

The presence of the Deity, and the care such an

august cause is to be supposed to take about any
action, obliges the Poet to represent this action as
great, important, and managed by *kings and princes.
It obliges him likewise to think and speak in an ele-
vated way above the vulgar, and in a style that may
in some sort keep up the character of the divine
persons he introduces.t To this end serve the poli-
tical and figurative expression, and the majesty of
the Heroick Verse.
But all this, being divine and surprising, may quite
ruin all probability : therefore the Poet should take a
peculiar care as to that point, since his chief aim is to
instruct, and without probability any action is less
likely to persuade. |
Lastly, since precepts ought to be tconcise, to be
the more easily conceived and less oppress the memory ;
and since nothing can be more effectual to this end
than proposing one single idea, and collecting all
things so well together, as to be present to our minds
all at once; therefore the Poets have reduced all to one
§single action, under one and the same design, and
in a body whose members and parts should be homo-
geneous.
What we have observed of the nature of the Epick
Poem, gives us a just idea of it, and we may define
it thus:

* Res geste rezumque ducumque. Hor. Art. Poet.

+ —————. Cui mens divinior atque os
Magna sonaturum, des nominis hujus honorem. Horat.
{ Quicquid precipies esto brevis, ut citd dicta
Precipiant animi dociles, teneantque fideles. Hor. Poet.
§ Denique sit quodvis simplex duntaxat, et unum. Hor. Poet,
CXXXVlll A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

- Ὁ The Epick Poem is a discourse invented by art,

“ to form the manners, by such instructions as are
*« disguised under the allegories of some one important
“action, which is related in verse, after a probable,
“ diverting, and surprising manner.”

SC ai?
IN every design which a man deliberately under-
takes, the end he proposes is the first thing in his
mind, and that by which he governs the whole work,
and all its parts: thus, since the end of the Epick
Poem is to regulate the manners, it is with this first
view the Poet ought to begin.
But there is a great difference between the phi-
losophical and the poetical doctrine of manners. The
schoolmen content themselves with treating of virtues
and vices in general: the instructions they give are
proper for all states, people, and for all ages. But
the Poet has a nearer regard to his own country, and
the necessities of his own nation. With this design he
makes choice of some piece of morality, the most
proper and just he can imagine: and in order to
press this home, he makes less use of the force of rea-
soning, than of the power of insinuation ; accommo-
dating himself to the particular customs and _inclina-
tions of those who are to be the subject, or the read-
ers, of his work.
Let us now see how Homer has acquitted himself
in these respects.
He saw the Grecians, for whom he designed his

* The Fable of the Iliad.

 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. cxxxix

Poem, were divided into as many states as they had

capital cities. Each was a body politick apart, and
had its form of government independent from all the
rest. And yet these distinct states were very often
obliged to unite together in one body against their
common enemies. ‘These were two very different
sorts of government, such as could not be compre-
hended in one maxim of morality, and in one single
Poem.
The Poet therefore has made two distinct fables of
them. The one is for Greece in general, united into
one body, but composed of parts independent on each
other; and the other for each particular state, con-
sidered as they were in time of peace, without the
former circumstances and the necessity of being
united.
As for the first sort of government, in the union, or
rather in the confederacy of many independent states ;
experience has always made it appear, “ That nothing
* so much causes success as a due subordination, and |
“ a right understanding among the chief commanders:
© And on the other hand, the inevitable ruin of such
“ confederacies proceeds from the heats, jealousies, and
“ ambition of the different leaders, and the discontents
“of submitting to a single general.” ΑἹ] sorts of
states, and in particular the Grecians, had dearly
experienced this truth. So that the most useful and
necessary instruction that could be given them, was
to lay before their eyes the loss which both {πὸ
people and the princes must of necessity suffer
by the ambition, discord, and obstinacy of the
latter. ‘
Homer then has taken for the foundation of his
ΟΧ] A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

fable this great truth; that a misunderstanding

between princes is the ruin of their own states. “I
“ sing (says he) the anger of Achilles, so pernicious to
“ the Grecians, and the cause of so many heroes’
* deaths, occasioned by the discord and separation of
“ Agamemnon and that prince.”
But that this truth may be completely and fully
known, there is need of a second to support it. It is
necessary in such a design, not only to represent the
confederate states at first disagreeing among them-
selves, and from thence unfortunate; but to show the
same states afterwards reconciled and united, and of
consequence victorious.
Let us now see how he has joined all these in one
general action.
“ Several princes independent on one another were
“ united against acommonenemy. The person whom
“ they had elected their general, offers an affront to
“the most valiant of all the confederates. This
“ offended prince is so far provoked, as to relinquish
“the union, and obstinately refuse to fight for the
* common cause. This misunderstanding gives the
“enemy such an advantage, that the allies are very
“near quitting their design with dishonour. He
“ himself who made the separation, is not exempt
“ from sharing the misfortune which he brought upon
ἐς his party. For having permitted his intimate friend
“ὁ to succour them in a great necessity, this friend is
* killed by the enemy’s general. ‘Thus the contend-
“ing princes, being both made wiser at their own
* cost, are reconciled, and unite again: then this
“ valiant prince not only obtains the victory in the
“ publick cause, but revenges his private wrongs by
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. exh

“ killing with his own hands the author of the death

“ of his friend.”
This is the first platform of the Poem, and the
fiction which reduces mto one important and uni-
versal action alk the particulars upon which it turns.
In the next place it must be rendered probable by
the circumstances of times, places, and persons:
some persons must be found out, already known by
history or otherwise, whom we may with probability
make the actors and personages of this fable. Homer
has made choice of the siege of Troy, and feigned
that this action happened there. To a phantom of
his brain, whom he would paint valiant and cholerick,
he has given the name of Achilles; that of Aga-
memnon to his general; that of Hector to the enemy’s
commander, and so to the rest.
Besides, he was. obliged to accommodate himself
to the manners, customs, and genius of the Greeks
his auditors, the better to make them attend to the
instruction of his Poem; and to gain their approba-
tion by praising them: so that they might the better
forgive him the representation of their own faults in
some of his chief personages. He admirably dis-
charges all these duties, by making these brave princes
and those victorious people all Grecians, and the
fathers of those he had a mind to commend.
But not being content, in a work of such a length,
to propose only the principal point of the moral, and
to fill up the rest with useless ornaments and
foreign incidents, he extends this. moral by all its
necessary consequences. As. for instance in the sub-
ject before us, it is not enough to know, that a good
understanding ought always to be maintained among
exlil ΓΑ VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

confederates: it is likewise of equal importance, that

if there happen any division, care must be taken to
keep it seeret from the enemy, that their ignorance
of this advantage may prevent their making use of it.
And in the second place, when their concord is but
counterfeit and only in appearance, one should never
press the enemy too closely; for this would discover
the weakness which we ought to conceal from them.
The Episode of Patroclus.most admirably furnishes
us with these two instructions. For when he ap-
peared in the arms of Achilles, the Trojans, who
took him for that prince now reconciled and united
to the Confederates, immediately gave ground, and
quitted the advantages they had before over the
Greeks. But Patroclus, who should have been con-
tented with this success, presses upon Hector too
boldly, and by obliging him to fight, soon discovers
that it was not the true Achilles who was clad in his
armour, but a hero of much inferior prowess. So
that Hector kills him, and regains those advantages
which the Trojans had lost, on the opinion that
Achilles was reconciled.

7, ope WEE ἐν Pipe

‘THE Odyssey was not designed, like the Iliad,
for the instruction of all the states of Greece joined
in one body, but for each state in particular. Asa
state is composed of two parts; the head which com-
mands, and the members which obey; there are in-
structions requisite to both, to teach the one to govern,
and the others to submit to government.
* The Fable of the Odyssey.
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. exh

There are two virtues necessary to one in authority,

prudence to order, and care to see his orders put in
execution. ‘The prudence of a politician is not ac-
quired but by a long experience in all sorts of busi-
ness, and by an acquaintance with all the different
forms of governments and states. The care of the
administration suffers not him that has the govern-
ment to rely upon others, but requires his own pre-
sence: and kings who are absent from their states,
are in danger of losing them, and give occasion to
great disorders and confusion.
These two points may be easily united in one and
the same man. “ A king forsakes his kingdom to
« visit the courts of several princes, where he learns
‘‘the manners and customs of different nations.
“ From hence there naturally arises a vast number
“ of incidents, of dangers, and of adventures, very
* useful for a political institution. On the other side,
“this absence gives way to the disorders which
“ happen in his own kingdom, and which end not
“5 till his return, whose presence only can re-establish
“all things.” Thus the absence of a king has the
same effects in this fable, as the division of the princes
had in the former.
The subjects have scarce any need but of one
general maxim, which is, To suffer themselves to be
governed, and to obey faithfully; whatever reason
they may imagine against the orders they receive*.

* The fabricator of this theory would have received with im-

plicit reverence the sage directions of the Mighty Mother in the
Dunciad, iv. 187.
May you, my Cam, and Isis, preach it long!
“ The RIGHT DIVINE of kings to govern wrong.’ W.

--
Ροοσσ
μῸ
OO
es.
exhiv A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

It is easy to jom this instruction with the other, by 2s

bestowing on this wise and industrious prince such

subjects, as in his absence would rather follow their
own judgment than his commands; and by demon-
strating the misfortunes which this disobedience draws
upon them, the evil consequences which almost in-
fallibly attend these particular notions, which are in-
tirely different from the general idea of him who
ought to govern.
But as it was necessary that the princes in the
Iliad should be cholerick and quarrelsome, so it is
necessary in the fable of the Odyssey that the chief
person should be sage and prudent. This raises a
difficulty in the fiction; because this person ought to
be absent for the two reasons aforementioned, which
are essential to the fable, and which constitute the
principal aim of it: but he cannot absent himself,
without offending against another maxim of equal
importance, viz. That a king should upon no ac-
count leave his country.
It is true, there are sometimes such necessities as
sufficiently excuse the prudence of a politician in this
point. But such a necessity is a thing important
enough of itself to supply matter for another poem,
and this multiplication of the action would be vicious.
To prevent which, in the first place, this necessity,
and the departure of the hero, must be disjoimed from
the poem; and im the second place, the hero having
been obliged to absent himself, for a reason antecedent
to the action and placed distinct from the fable, he
ought not so far to embrace this opportunity of in-
structing himself, as to absent himself voluntarily
from his own government. Tor at this rate, his ab-
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. cxlv

sence would be merely voluntary, and one might

with reason lay to his charge all the disorders which
might arrive.
Thus in the constitution of the fable he ought not
to take for his action, and for the foundation of his
poem, the departure of a prince from his own country,
nor his voluntary stay in any other place; but his
return, and this return retarded against his will.
This is the first idea Homer gives us of it*. His
hero appears at first in a desolate island, sitting upon
the side of the sea, which with tears in his eyes he
looks upon as the obstacle that had so long opposed
his return, and detained him from ἀν: his own
dear country.
And lastly, since this forced delay might more
naturally and usually happen to such as make voyages
by sea, Homer has judiciously made choice of a
prince whose kingdom was in an island.
Let us see then how he has feigned all this ac-
tion, making his hero a person in years, because
years are requisite to instruct a man inn:prudence and
policy.
« A prince had been obliged to forsake his native
* country, and to head an army of his subjects in a
“ foreign expedition. Having gloriously performed
“ this enterprise, he was marching home again, and
“ conducting his subjects to his own state. But spite
“ of all the attempts, with which the eagerness to
“return had inspired him, he was stopt by the way
* by tempests for several years, and cast upon several
“ countries differing from each other in manners and

* Odyssey v.
VOL. I. K
exlvi A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

“ government. In these dangers his companions, not

“ always following his orders, perished through their
“ own fault. The grandees of his country strangely
“ abuse his absence, and raise no small disorders at
“home. ‘They consume his estate, conspire to de-
“ stroy his son, would constrain his queen to accept
“ of one of them for her husband; and indulge them-_
“ selves in all violence, so much the more, because
“ they were persuaded he would never return. But
“ at last he returns, and discovering himself only to
“his son and some others, who had continued firm
“ to him, he is an eye-witness of the insolence of his
“ enemies, punishes them according to their deserts,
“ and restores to his island that tranquillity and repose
“to which they had been strangers during his ab-
“ sence.”
As the truth, which serves for foundation to this
fiction, is, that the absence of a person from his own
home, or his neglect of his own affairs, is the cause
of great disorders; so the principal point of ‘the
action, and the most essential one, is the absence of
the hero. This fills almost all the poem: for not
only this real absence lasted several years, but even
when the hero returned, he does not discover him-
self; and this prudent disguise, from whence he reaped
850 much advantage, has the same effect upon the
authors of the disorders, and all others who knew
him not, as his real absence had before, so that he
is absent as to them, ’till the very moment of their
punishment.
After the Poet had thus composed his fable, and
joined the fiction to the truth, he then makes choice
of Ulysses the king of the isle of Ithaca, to main-
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. cxlvii

tain the character of his chief personage, and be-

stowed the rest upon ‘Telemachus, Penelope, Antin-
ous, and others, whom he calls by what names. he
pleases. | |
I shall not here insist upon the many excellent ad-
vices, which are so many parts and natural con-
sequences of the fundamental truth; and which the
Poet very dextrously lays down in those fictions
which are the episodes and members of the entire
action. Such for instance are these advices: Not to
intrude one’s self into the mysteries of government,
which the prince keeps secret: this is represented to
us by the winds shut up in a bull-hide, which the
miserable companions of Ulysses would needs be so
foolish as to pry into. Not to suffer one’s self to be
led away by the seeming charms of an idle and in-
active life, to which the Siren’s song invited. Not
to suffer one’s self to be sensualized by pleasures,
like those who were changed into brutes by Circe:
and a great many other points of morality necessary
for all sorts of people.
This poem is more useful to the people than the
Tliad, where the subjects suffer rather by the ill con-
duct of their princes, than through their own miscar-
riages. But in the Odyssey, it is not the fault of
Ulysses that is the ruin of his subjects. This wise
prince leaves untried no method to make them
partakers of the benefit of hisreturn. Thus the Poet
in the Iliad says, “ He sings the anger of Achilles,
* which had caused the death of so many Grecians ;”
and on the contrary, in the Odyssey he tells his
readers, “ That the subjects perished through their
* own fault.”
πῶ
cxlviti A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

SECT. IV*.
ARISTOTLE bestows great encomiums upon Homer
for the simplicity of his design{, because he has
included in one single part all that happened at the
siege of Troy. And to this he opposes the ignor-
ance of some Poets who imagined that the unity
of the fable or action was sufficiently preserved by
the unity of the hero; and who composed their
Theseids, Heracleids, and the like, wherein they
only heaped up in one poem every thing that happened
to one personage.
He finds fault with those Poets who were for re-
ducing the unity of the fable into the unity of the
hero, because one man may have performed several
adventures, which it is impossible to reduce under
any one general and simple head. This reducing of
all things to unity and simplicity is what Horace
likewise makes his first rule:
«ς Denique sit quodvis simplex duntaxat, et unum.
According to these rules, it will be allowable to
make use of several fables; (or to speak more cor-
rectly) of several incidents which may be divided into
several fables; provided they are so ordered, that the
unity of the fable be not spoiled. This liberty is
still greater in the Epick Poem, because it is of a
larger extent, and ought to be entire and complete.
I will explain myself more distinctly by the prac-
tice of Homer.
No doubt but one might make four distinct fables
out of these four following instructions.
* Of the Unity of the Fable. { In his Poetics, cap. ix. W.
3
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. cxilix

1. Division between those of the same party ex-

poses them entirely to their enemies.
2. Conceal your weakness, and you will be dreaded
as much, as if you had none of those imperfections,
of which they are ignorant.
3. When your strength is only feigned, and
Sounded only in the opinion of others, never venture
so far as if your strength was real.
4. The more you agree together, the less hurt
can your enemies do you.
It is plain, I say, that each of these particular
maxims might serve for the ground-work of a fiction,
and one might make four distinct fables out of them.
May not one then put all these into one single
epopea? Not unless one single fable can be made
out of all. ‘The Poet indeed may have so much skill
as to unite all into one body, as members and parts,
each of which taken asunder would be imperfect ;
and if he joins them so, this conjunction shall be no
hindrance at all to the unity and the regular simpli-
city of the fable. This is what Homer has done
with such success in the composition of the Iliad.
1. The division between Achilles and his allies
tended to the ruin of their designs. 2. Patroclus
comes to their relief in the armour of this hero, and
Hector retreats. 3. But this young man, pushing
too far the advantage which his disguise gave him,
wentures to engage with Hector himself; but not
being master of Achilles’s strength (whom he only
represented in outward appearance) he is killed, and
by this means leaves the Grecian affairs in the same
disorder, from which in that disguise he came to
free them. 4. Achilles, provoked at the death of his
cl _ A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

friend, is reconciled, and revenges his loss by. the

death of Hector. These various incidents | being
thus united, do not make different actions and fables,
but are only the uncomplete and unfinished parts of
one and the same action and fable, which alone when
taken thus complexly, can be said to be complete and
entire: and all these maxims of the moral, are easily
reduced into these two parts, which in my opinion
cannot be separated without enervating the force of
both. The two parts are these*, That a right under-
standing is the preservation, and discord the destruc-
tion of states.
Though then the Poet has made use of two parts
in his poems, each of which might have served for
a fable, as we have observed; yet this multiplication
cannot be called a vicious and irregular polymythia,
contrary to the necessary unity and simplicity of the
fable; but it gives the fable another qualification;
altogether necessary and regular, namely its weeny
tion and finishing stroke. ‘

SECT. Vt.
THE action of a poem is the subject which the
Poet undertakes, proposes, and builds upon. So that
the moral and the instructions which are the end of
the epick poem are not the matter of it. Those the
Poets leave in their allegorical and figurative ob-
scurity. They only give notice at the erordium, that
they sing some action. The revenge of Achilles,
the return of Ulysses, &c.
* Concordié res parve crescunt: discordia magne dilabuntur.
Sallust. de bello Jug.
+ Of the Action of the Epick Poem.

—e
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. cli

_ Since then the action is the matter of ἃ fable, it

is evident that whatever incidents are essential to the
fable, or constitute a part of it, are necessary also to
the action, and are parts of the epick matter, none
of which ought to be omitted. Such, for instance,
are the contention of Agamemnon and Achilles, the
slaughter Hector makes in the Grecian army, the
re-union of the Greek princes; and lastly, the re-
settlement and victory which was the consequence of
that re-union.
There are four qualifications in the epick action:
the first is its wnzty, the second its integrity, the
third its zmportance, the fourth its duration.
The unity of the epick action, as well as the unity
of the fable, does not consist either in the unity of
the hero, or in the unity of time: three things I
suppose are necessary to it. The first is, to make
use of no episode but what arises from the very plat-
form and foundation of the action, and is as it were
a natural member of the body. The second is, ex-
actly to unite these episodes and these members with
one another. And the third is, never to finish any
episode so as it may seem to be an entire action; but
to let each episode still appear in its own particular
nature, as the member of a body, and as a part of
itself not complete. ‘its
* Aristotle not only says that the epick action
should be one, but adds, that it should be entire, per-
fect, and complete, and for this purpose ought to have
a beginning, a middle, and an end. These three parts
of a whole are too generally and universally denoted

* Of the Beginning, Middle, and End of the Action.

clii A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

by the words, beginning, middle, and end; we may

interpret them more precisely, and say, That the
causes and designs of an action are the beginning;
that the effects of these causes, and the difficulties
that are met with in the execution of these designs,
are the middle ; and that the unravelling and resolu-
tion of these difficulties are the end.
* Homer’s design in the IJliad is to relate the anger
and revenge of Achilles. The beginning of this ac-
tion is the change of Achilles from a calm to a
passionate temper. The middle is the effects of his
passion, and all the illustrious deaths it is the cause
of. The end of this same action is the return of
Achilles to his calmness of temper again. All was
quiet in the Grecian camp, when Agamemnon their
_general provoked Apollo against them, whom he was
willing to appease afterwards at the cost and pre-
judice of Achilles, who had no part in his fault.
This then is an exact beginning : it supposes nothing
before, and requires after it the-effects of this anger.
Achilles revenges himself, and that is an exact mid-
dle; it supposes before it the anger of Achilles, this
revenge is the effect of it. Then this middle requires
after it the effects of this revenge, which is the satis-
faction of Achilles: for the revenge had not been
complete, unless Achilles had been satisfied. By this
means the Poet makes his hero, after he was glutted
by the mischief he had done to Agamemnon, by the
death of Hector, and the honour he did his friend,
by insulting over his murderer; he makes him, I say,
to be moved by the tears and misfortunes of King

* The Action of the Iliad.

 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. chili

Priam. We see him as calm at the end of the poem,

during the funeral of Hector, as he was at the be-
ginning of the poem, whilst the plague raged among
the Grecians. ‘This end is just, since the calmness
of temper Achilles re-enjoyed is only an effect of
the revenge which ought to have preceded: and after
this nobody expects any more of his anger. Thus
has Homer been very exact in the beginning, middle,
and end of the action he made choice of for the sub-
ject of his Iliad.
* His design in the Odyssey was to describe the
return of Ulysses from the siege of Troy, and his
arrival at Ithaca. He opens this poem with the com-
plaints of Minerva against Neptune, who opposed
the return of this hero, and against Calypso who de-
tained him in an island from Ithaca. [5 this a be-
ginning ? No; doubtless the reader would know why
Neptune is displeased with Ulysses, and how this
prince came to be with Calypso? He would know
how he came from Troy thither ? The Poet answers
his demands out of the mouth of Ulysses himself,
who relates these things, and begins the action, by
the recital of his travels from the city of Troy. It
signifies little whether the beginning of the action
be the beginning of the poem. The beginning of
this action is that which happens to Ulysses, when
upon his leaving Troy he bends his course for Ithaca.
The middle comprehends all the misfortunes he en-
dured, and all the disorders of his own government,
The end is the re-instating of the hero in the peace-
able possession of his kingdom, where he was acknow-

* The Action of the Odyssey.

 cliv’ - A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

ledged by his son, his wife, his father, and several

others. The Poet was sensible he should have ended
ill, had he gone no farther than the death of these
princes, who were the rivals and enemies of Ulysses,
because the reader might have looked for some re-
venge which the subjects of these princes might
have taken on him who had killed their sovereigns :
but this danger over, and the people vanquished
and quieted, there was nothing more to be expected.
The poem and the action have all their parts, and
no more.
But the order of the Odyssey differs from that of
the Iliad, in that the poem does not begin with the
beginning of the action.
*The Causes of the Action are also what the Poet
is obliged to give an account of. There are three
sorts of causes, the humours, the interests, and the
designs of men; and these different causes of an
action are likewise often the causes of one another ;
every man taking up those interests in which his
humour engages him, and forming those designs to
which his humour and interest incline him. Of all
these the Poet ought to inform his readers, and
render them conspicuous in his principal personages.
Homer has ingeniously begun his Odyssey with
the transactions at Ithaca, during the absence of
Ulysses. If he had begun with the travels of his
Hero, he would scarce have spoken of any one else,
and a man might have read a great deal of the Poem,
without conceiving the least idea of Telemachus,
Penelope, or her suitors, who had so great a share in

* Of the Causes and Beginning of the Action.

 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. οἷν

the action ;but in the beginning he has pitched upon,

besides these personages whom he discovers, he re-
presents Ulysses in his full length, and from the very
first opening one sees the interest which the Gods
take in the action.
The skill and care of the same Poet may be seen
likewise in introducing his personages in the first book
of his Iliad, where he discovers the humours, the
interests, and the designs of Agamemnon, Achilles,
Hector, Ulysses, and several others, and even of the
Deities... And in his second he makes a review of the
Grecian and Trojan armies, which is full evidence
that all we have here said is very necessary.
*As these Causes are the Beginning of the Action,
the opposite designs against that of the Hero are the
Middle of it, and form that Difficulty or Intrigue,
which makes up the greatest part of the Poem; the
Solution or Unravelling commences when the reader
begins to see that difficulty removed, and the doubts
eleared up. Homer has divided each of his Poems
into two parts, and has put a particular intrigue, and
ae solution of it, into each part.
' The first part of the Iliad is the anger of Achilles
who is for revenging himself upon Agamemnon by
the means of Hector and the Trojans. The intrigue
comprehends the three days fight which happened in
the absence of Achilles : and it consists on one side in
the resistance of Agamemnon and the Grecians : and
on the other in the revengeful and inexorable humour
of Achilles, which would not suffer him to be recon-
ciled. The loss of the Grecians, and the despair of

* Of the Middle or Intrigue of the Action,

clvi A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

Agamemnon, prepare for a solution by the satis-

faction which the incensed hero received from it.
The death of Patroclus, joined to the offers of Aga-
memnon, which of itself had proved ineffectual, remove
this difficulty, and make the unravelling of the first
part.
This death is likewise the beginning of the second
part: since it puts Achilles upon the design of reveng-
ing himself on Hector. But the design of Hector is
opposite to that of Achilles: this Trojan is valiant,
and resolved to stand on his own defence. This
valour and resolution of Hector, are on his part the
cause of the intrigue. All the endeavours Achilles
used to meet with Hector and be the death of him,
and the contrary endeavours of the Trojan to keep
out of his reach, and defend himself, are the intrigue;
which comprehends the battle of the last day. The
unravelling begins at the death of Hector ; and besides
that, it contains the insulting of Achilles over his
body, the honours he paid to Patroclus, and the in-
treaties of king Priam. The regrets of this king
and the other Trojans, in the sorrowful obsequies they
paid to Hector’s body, end the unravelling; they
justify the satisfaction of Achilles, and demonstrate
his tranquillity.
The first. part of the Odyssey is the return of Ulys-
ses into Ithaca. Neptune opposes it by raising
tempests, and this makes the intrigue. The unravel-
ling is the arrival of Ulysses upon his own island,
where Neptune could offer him no farther injury.
The second part is the reinstating this hero in his
own government. The princes that are his riva!s
oppose him, and this is a fresh intrigue: the solution
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. clvii

of it begins at their deaths, and is completed as

soon as the Ithacans were appeased.
These two parts in the Odyssey have not one
common intrigue. The anger of Achilles forms both
the intrigues in the Iliad ; and it is so far the matter
of this Epopea, that the very beginning and end of
this poem depend on the beginning and end of this
anger. But let the desire Achilles had to revenge
himself and the desire Ulysses had to return to his
own country be never so near allied, yet we cannot
place them under one and the same notion: for that
desire of Ulysses is not a passion that begins and ends
in the Poem with the action: it is a natural habit:
nor does the Poet propose it for his subject as he does
the anger of Achilles.
We have already observed what is meant by the
Intrigue, and the Unravelling thereof; let us now say
something of the manner of forming both. These
two should arise naturally out of the very essence and
subject of the Poem, and are to be deduced from
thence. Their conduct is so exact and natural, that
it seems as if their action had presented them with
whatever they inserted, without putting themselves to
the trouble of a farther inquiry.
What is more usual and natural to warriors than
anger, heat, passion, and impatience of bearing the
least affront or disrespect ὃ This is what forms the
intrigue of the Iliad; and every thing we read there
is nothing else but the effect of this humour and these
passions.
What more natural and usual obstacle to those
who take voyages, than the sea, the winds, and the
storms? EHlomer makes this the intrigue of the first
clviil A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

part of the Odyssey : and for the second, he makes

use of almost the infallible effect of the long absence
of a master, whose return is quite despaired. of, viz.
the insolence of his servants and neighbours, the
danger of his son and wife, and the sequestration of
his estate. Besides, an absence of almost twenty
years, and the insupportable fatigue, jomed to the age
Ulysses then was, might induce him to believe that
he should not be owned by those who thought him
dead, and whose interest it was to have him really
so. Therefore if he had presently declared who he
was, and had called himself Ulysses, they would
have easily destroyed him as an impostor, before he
had an opportunity to make himself known.
There could be nothing more natural nor more
necessary than this ingenious disguise, to which the
advantages his enemies had taken of his absence had
reduced him, and to which his long misfortunes had
inured him. ‘This allowed him δὴ opportunity,
without hazarding any thing, of taking the _best
measures he could, against those persons who could
not so much as mistrust any harm from him. This
way was afforded him, by the very nature of his
action, to execute his designs, and overcome the
obstacles it cast before him. And it is this contest
between the prudence and the dissimulation of a
single man on one hand, and the ungovernable inso-
lence of so many rivals on the other, which consti-
tutes the intrigue of the second part of the Odyssey.
*If the Plot or Intrigue must be natural, and such
as springs from the very subject, as has been already

* Of the End or Unravelling of the Action. .

 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. clix

urged, then the Winding-up of the plot, by a more

sure claim, must have this qualification, and be a
probable consequence of all that went before. As
this is what the readers regard more than the rest, so
should the Poet be more exact in it. This is the end
of the Poem, and the last impression that is to be
stamped upon them. |
We shall find this in the Odyssey. Ulysses by a
tempest is cast upon the island of the Phzacians, to
whom he discovers himself, and desires they would
favour his return to his own country, which was not
very far distant. One cannot see any reason why the
king of this island should refuse such a reasonable
request, to a hero whom he seemed to have in great
esteem. ‘The Pheeacians indeed had heard him tell
the story of his adventures; and in this fabulous
recital consisted all the advantage that he could derive
from his presence; for the art of war which they
admired in him, his undauntedness under dangers,
his indefatigable patience, and other virtues, were such
- as these islanders were not used to. All their talent
lay m singing and dancing, and whatsoever was
charming in a quiet life. And here we see how dex-
trously Homer prepares the incidents he makes use
of. These people could do no less, for the account
with which Ulysses had so much entertained them,
than afford him a ship and a safe convoy, which was
of little expence or trouble to them.
~ When he arrived, his long absence, and the travels
which had disfigured him, made him altogether
unknown; and the danger he would have incurred,
had he discovered himself too soon, forced him to a
disguise : lastly, this disguise gave him an oppor-
4
clx A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

tunity of surprising those young suitors, who for

several years together had been accustomed to
nothing but to sleep well, and fare daintily.
It was from these examples that Aristotle drew
this rule, that “ Whatever concludes the Poem should
“ so spring from the very constitution of the Fable,
“as if it were a necessary, or at least a probable
“4 consequence *.”

SECT. ὙΠ}
Tue Time of the Epick Action is not fixed, like
that of the Dramatick Poem: it is much longer; for
an uninterrupted duration is much more necessary in
an action which one sees and is present at, than in one
which we only read or hear repeated. Besides Tra-
gedy is full of passion, and consequently of such a
violence as cannot admit of so long a duration.
The Iliad containing an action of Anger and Vio-
lence, the Poet allows it but a short time, about forty
Days. The design of the Odyssey required another
conduct; the character of the Hero is Prudence and
Long-suffering ; therefore the time of its duration is
much longer, above eight Years.
tThe Passions of Tragedy are different from those
of the Epick Poem. In the former, Terror and Pity
have the chief place; the Passion that seems most
peculiar to Epick Poetry, is admiration.
Besides this admiration, which in general distin-
guishes the Epick Poem from the Dramatick, each

* In his Poeticks, cap. xi. WwW.

+ The Time of the Action.
1 The Passions of the Epick Poem.
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. ΟΧῚ

Epick Poem has likewise some peculiar Passion, which

distinguishes it in particular from other Epick Poems,
and constitutes a kind of singular and individual dif-
ference between these Poems of the same species.
These singular Passions correspond to the Character
of the Hero. Anger and Terror reign throughout
the Iliad, because Achilles is angry, and the most
terrible of all men. The A*neid has all the soft and
tender Passions, because that is the character of
Aineas.. The prudence, wisdom, and constancy of
Ulysses do not allow him either of these extremes,
therefore the Poet does not permit one of them to be
predominant in the Odyssey. He confines himself
to admiration only, which he carries to an higher
pitch than in the Iliad: and it is upon this account
that he introduces a great many more machines, in
the Odyssey, into the body of the action, than are
to be seen in the actions of the other two Poems.
*The manners of the Epick Poem ought to be
poetically good, but it is not necessary they be always
morally so. ‘They are poetically good, when one
may discover the virtue or vice, the: good or ill
inclinations, of every one who speaks or acts: they
are poetically bad, when persons are made to speak
or act out of character, or inconsistently or unequally.
The manners of A‘neas and of Mezentius are equally
good, considered poetically, because they equally
demonstrate the piety of the one, and the impiety of
the other.
ἘΠῚ is requisite to make the same distinction be-
tween a hero in morality, and a hero in poetry, as

* The Manners. + Character of the Hero.

VOL. I. Ι,
clxii A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,
between moral and poetical goodness. Achilles had
as much right to the latter as Aineas. Aristotle says
that the Hero of a Poem should be neither good nor
bad; neither advanced above the rest of mankind by
his virtues, nor sunk beneath them by his vices:
that he may be the proper and fuller example to
others, both what to imitate, and what to decline.
The other qualifications of the Manners are, that
they be suitable to the causes which either raise or
discover them in the persons; that they have an
exact Resemblance to what History, or Fable, have
delivered of those persons, to whom they are as-
cribed; and that there be an Equality in them, so
that no man is made to act, or speak, out of his
character.
*But this equality is not sufficient for the Unity of
the Character; it is further necessary, that the same
spirit appear in all sort of encounters. ‘Thus Aineas
acting with great Piety and Mildness in the first part
of the A‘neid, which requires no other character ;
and afterwards appearing illustrious in heroic valour,
in the wars of the second part; but there, without
any appearance either of a hard or a soft disposition :
would, doubtless, be far from offending against the
‘Equality of the Manners; but yet there would be no
Simplicity or Unity in the Character. So that, be-
sides the qualities that claim their particular place
upon different occasions, there must be one appearing
throughout, which commands over all the rest; and
without this, we may affirm it is no character.
One may indeed make a Hero as valiant as Achilles,

*® Unity of the Character.

4
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. clxiii

as pious as Auneas, and as prudent as Ulysses. But

itis a mere chimera to imagine a Hero that has the
valour of Achilles, the piety of A‘neas, and the
prudence of Ulysses, at one and the same time.
This vision might happen to an author, who would
suit the character of a Hero to whatever each part of
the action might naturally require, without regarding
the essence of the Fable, or the unity of the character
in the same person upon all sorts of occasions: this
Hero would be the mildest, best-natured Prince in
the world, and also the most cholerick, hard-hearted,
and implacable creature imaginable; he would be
extremely tender like Atneas, extremely violent like
Achilles, and yet have the indifference of Ulysses,
that is incapable of the two extremes. Would it
not be in vain for the Poet to call this person by the
same name throughout ?
Let us reflect on the effects it would produce in
several poems, whose authors were of opinion, that
the chief character of a Hero 15 that. of an accom-
plished man.. They would be all alike; all valiant
in battle, prudent in council, pious in the acts of
religion, courteous, civil, magnificent; and, lastly,
endued with all the prodigious virtues any Poet
could invent. All this would be independent of the
action and the subject of the Poem; and, upon seeing
each Hero separated from the rest of the work, we
should not easily guess, to what Action, and to what
Poem, the Hero belonged. So that we should see
that none of those would have a Character; since the
Character is that which makes a person discernible,
and which distinguishes him from all others.
This commanding quality in Achilles, is his anger,
L 2

νυν».
ee
ee)
clxiv .Α VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

in Ulysses the art of dissimulation, in Aineas meek-

ness. Each of these may be styled, by way of emi-
nence, the Character in these Heroes.
But these characters cannot be alone. It is ab-
solutely necessary that some other should give them
a lustre, and embellish them as far as they are
capable: either by hiding the defects that are in each,
by some noble and shining qualities; as the Poet has
done the anger of Achilles, by shading it with ex-
traordinary valour: or by making them entirely of
the nature of a true and solid virtue, as is to be
observed in the two others. The dissimulation of
Ulysses is a part of his prudence ; and the meekness
of Aineas is wholly employed in submitting his will
to the Gods. For the making up this union, our
Poets have joined together such qualities as are by
nature the most compatible; Valour with Anger,
Meekness with Piety, and Prudence with Dissimula-
tion. This last union was necessary for the Goodness
of Ulysses; for without that, his dissimulation
might have degenerated into wickedness and double-
dealing.

SECT. VII*.
WE come now to the Machines of the epick
poem. ‘The chief passion which it aims to excite
being admiration, nothing is so conducive to that as
the marvellous; and the importance and dignity of
the action is by nothing so greatly elevated as by the
care and interposition of heaven.
The machines are of three sorts. Some are theo-

" Of the Machinery.

 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. clxv

logical, and were invented to explain the nature of

the Gods. Others are physical, and represent the
things of nature. The last are moral, and are the
images of virtues and vices.
Homer and the ancients have given to their Deities
the manners, passions, and vices of men. Their
poems are wholly allegorical ; and in this view it is
easier to defend Homer than to blame him. We
cannot accuse him for making mention of many Gods,
for his bestowing passions upon them, or even intro-
ducing them fighting against men. The Scripture
uses the like figures and expressions.
If it be allowable to speak thus of the Gods in
theology, much more in the fictions of natural philo-
sophy, where, if a poet describes the Deities, he must
give them such manners, speeches, and actions, as are
conformable to the nature of the things they repre-
sent under those Divinities. The case is the same in
the morals of the Deities: Minerva is wise because
she represents prudence; Venus is both good or bad,
because the passion of love is capable of these con-
trary qualities.
Since among the Gods of a poem some are good,
some bad, and some indifferently either ; and since of
our passions we make so many allegorical Deities;
we may attribute to the Gods all that is done in the
poem, whether good or evil. But these Deities do
not act constantly in one and the same manner.
Sometimes they act invisibly, and by mere Inspira-
tion; which has nothing in it extraordinary or mira-
culous: being no more than what we say every day,
“ ‘That some God has assisted us,” or “ some demon
* has instigated. us.”
$
clxvi A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM,

At other times they appear visibly, and manifest

themselves to men, in a manner altogether miracu-
lous and preternatural. |
The third way has something of both the others;
it is in truth a miracle, but is not commonly so ac-
counted: this includes dreams, oracles, &c.
All these ways must be probable; for however
necessary the marvellous is to the epick action, as
nothmg is so conducive to admiration, yet we can,
on the other hand, admire nothing that we think im-
possible. ‘Though the probability of these machines
be of a very large extent, (since it is founded. upon
divine power) it is not without limitations. There
are numerous instances of allowable and probable
machines in the epick poem, where the Gods are no
less actors than the men. But the less credible sort,
such as metamorphoses, &c. are far more rare.
This suggests a reflection on the method of render-
ing those machines probable, which in their own
nature are hardly so. Those, which require only
divine probability, should be so disengaged from the
action, that one might subtract them from it, without.
destroying the action. But those, which are essen-
tial and necessary, should be grounded upon human
probability, and not on the sole power of God. Thus
the episodes of Circe, the Syrens, Polyphemus, τα.
are necessary to the action of the Odyssey, and yet
not humanly probable: yet Homer has artificially
reduced them to human probability, by the simplicity
and ignorance of the Phzeacians, before whom he
causes those recitals to be made:
The next question is, Where, and on what occa-
sions machines may be used? It is certain Homer
 AND OF THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY. clxvil

and Virgil make use of them every where, and scarce

suffer any action to be performed without them.
Petronius makes this a precept: Per ambages deo-
rumgque ministeria, &c. The Gods are mentioned in
the very proposition of their works, the invocation is
addrest to them, and the whole narration is full of
them. ‘The Gods are the causes of the action, they
form the intrigue, and bring about the solution. The
precept of Aristotle and Horace, that the unravelling
of the plot should not proceed from a miracle, or the
appearance of a God, has place only in the dramatick
poetry, not in the epick. For it is plain, that both in
the solution of the [liad and Odyssey, the Gods are
concerned : in the former, the Deities meet to appease
the anger of Achilles: Iris and Mercury are sent to
that purpose, and Minerva eminently assists Achilles
in the decisive combat with Hector. In the Odyssey,
the same Goddess fights close by Ulysses against the
Suitors, and concludes that peace betwixt him and
the Ithacensians, which completes the poem.
We may therefore determine, that a machine is not
an invention to extricate the Poet out of any difficulty
which embarrasses him: but that the presence of a
Divinity, and some action surprising and extra-
ordinary, are inserted into almost all the parts of his
work, in order to render it more majestick and more
admirable. But this mixture ought to be so made,
that the machines might be retrenched, without
taking any thing from the action: at the same time
that it gives the readers a lesson of piety and virtue:
and teaches them that the most brave and the most
wise can do nothing, and attain nothing great and glo-
rious, without the assistance of heaven. Thus the
‘clxvili A VIEW OF THE EPICK POEM.

machinery crowns the whole work, and renders it at

once marvellous, probable, and moral*.

* If the reader shall receive any help from this long dis-
sertation, either with respect to the general construction of the
Iliad and Odyssey, or the beauty and propriety of detached parts,
he is much more fortunate than the Editor: who prefers a single
particle of taste to all this mass of ingenious and baseless specu-
lation, which gratuitously determines, that every thing done by
Homer is unexceptionably just; that his plan is incapable of
amendment, and his execution, Rectitude itself. True Taste and
such Theories differ in the Editor’s estimation, as the shields of
Diomede and Glaucus ; Jliad vi. 292.
Χρυσεώ χολκείων, ἠκωτομνξοι᾽ ἐννεαξοιων. Ww:
 GENERAL

OBSERVATIONS.
BY THE |

EDITOR.
 Ω, ΕΝ WH: ti ty with poor,
ΓΈΤΑΣ = en ae - Ν < : ee '
Mane κἀκ Vice, ri over vy “ ‘ ¢ a ‘tA Ps
ote wy ~ eA r a oe + para? ~ ¥ a at OF
ἐῶ ta,
Ἔν λει δ ον γενViἀντε
Tae ἢ
ἤ τῇ ἘLater
Σ
veh SS βου," έν Me 2
s rina are
oonSaber ee Δ ΑΔ J
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Pai¥ tal τ δ: 8a eT | τὰ
pe. ve
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Ο
δι»
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ΚΗ ᾿ -
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ΜΝ

᾿7
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ἢ
4;

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τοῖς ; ; tua γὰ
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at
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p

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rs lee on tw *
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ry mT
-
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ary 3 4
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 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS,
RELATIVE TO

HOMER AND HIS TRANSLATOR.

Each wight, who reads not, and but scans and spells,
Each word-catcher, that lives on syllables,
Even such small critics some regard may claim,
Preserv’d in Milton’s or in Shakspeare’s name.

WHAT miscellaneous observations, of the least probable

importance, have presented themselves to notice in the
course of my former studies, respecting Homer and his
writings, and what suggestions, relative to our countryman
and his translation, which have unavoidably arisen during
the discharge of my office, as an editor of the work before
us, would be exhibited more agreeably, I presumed, in this
detached form, than as enormous notes to the prelimi-
nary dissertation of our translator, at the bottom of the
page.
_ The time, at which Homer lived, seems fixed within
a determinate ra by that peculiarity of the olic
dialect, which uniformly employed the digamma* as a
distinct character before certain words and betwixt cer-
tain syllables: and of which peculiarity no regular traces

* So called, because represented by acharacter resembling the modern

F, not unlike a double r, if we suppose one placed on the shoulders of
another,
 elxxii GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
are discoverable but in him and Hesiod: an era, more
or less contemporary with that age, in which various
parts of Italy were colonized by different emigrations
of ZEolian Greeks, who communicated this criterion of
their dialect to the Roman language. Foster, in his
essay on Accent and Quantity *, has illustrated this point
from numerous examples of Latin terms, constructed by
the application of this letter; to which I shall take this oppor-
tunity of adding a few more. Ounos, focus: παιω, Pavio: εἰλω,
volo: σεργοι, Hesychius, for cepFo, cervi: maw, pavo: Boos,
bovis: amy, @vum: σκαῖος, sceevus: aw, audio: 1axw, voco:
βολω, volo: aopvor, Avernum: Virgil, Ain. vi. 242. from Lu-
cretius, vi. 740. veos, novus: Heneti. Veneti, Liv. 1. 1, 2. see
more with respect to this form in Festus, voce fedum, and
the commentators there: annuvit bovantes, Enn. Ann. ii. &
Σὶν. ἔσσαι; vestire, Hom. Od. Q. 949. σπαρω, spargo: δος,
divus: die, diva: usw, vomo: iteroc, vitulus : ἕντερον, venter+t.
This correspondence, therefore, in the language of those
fEtolians, who settled in Italy, and imparted their pecu-
liarity to the primary fabric of the aboriginal tongue in use
with those districts, where they settled, indicates those
migrations to be nearly synchronous with Homer; in whose
works this property is, I presume, invariably preserved.
For those passages of the Iliad and Odyssey, that form
_ exceptions to this practice, are probably corrupted, from
time and the carelessness of transcribers, or are interpola-
tions by subsequent writers and grammarians; who made
these insertions to preserve continuity and coherencein a
poem, originally composed by Homer in detached portions,

* Pages 105 and 106, second edition: see also the quotations from
Priscian, p. 97, and other parts of that entertaining and instructive work;
with Dion. Hal. ant. Rom. i. fin.
+ See too Sanctii Minerv. iv. 16, 13. for other instances: who has
anticipated some of mine; as others, perhaps, besides him have done, but
without my consciousness of such prevention.
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. clxxili
and sung in this state of separation by Homer himself, and
the bards of succeeding times*.
Again: As Hesrop only, of all the Grecian poets beside
Homer, maintains with undeviating accuracy this peculi-
arity of the digamma through all his extant works, we are
led to conclude from this coincidence, what indeed very
well agrees with the best testimonies of ancient writers, no
great disparity between the ages of Hesiod and of Homer.
Now Hesiod in his Works and Days, ver. 172, speaks of
himself, it should seem, as living in the age succeeding the
Trojan war: and this circumstance also will carry the date
of these poets to a very high antiquity.
Lastly, Some particularities in the works of Homer, both
historical, moral, and philological, constitute a collection of
internal evidence, that pleads loudly for a very early period
of time to his existence. I must forewarn the reader, to
prevent a charge of unacknowledged plagiarism, which I
abhor, that some of my specifications on these topics will not
be altogether new, but will come accompanied, perhaps, by
such additional enforcement and illustration, as will render
them not unworthy the acceptance of the public.
1. It has been remarked, that the river Nile is called the
river Acyptus, wherever it is mentioned in the Odyssey;
for there alone it is mentioned; and by no other name.
Plutarch informs us, in his treatise on Rivers, that the first
appellation of this river was MJelas, corresponding to the
Sehor of the prophet}. ‘This assertion, however, may well
be disputed; and it seems more probable to me, as well
from the usage of more ancient authors, as from connecting
circumstances, that the earliest name of the Nile was the
second in Plutarch’s list, namely, A%gyptus; naturally so
denominated from the country itself: that is, “ the river of
/Egypt:” for such is the name in use with undoubtedly the

* See Achilles Tatius, 11. init. et p. 296. ed. Boden,

ἡ Jerem, ii, 18. See my Silva Critica, sect, 11,
elxxiv GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
earliest historians in existence, who have mentioned this
river; I mean Moses and Joshua*. Now the plain inference
from this particular of historic evidence is, that Homer lived
in an age, when no other name of the river in question was
current among nations; and, perhaps, when no other name
was known: and from this consideration we are also led to
fix the era of Homer at some years previous to that of He-
siod, who mentions the Nz/e expressly among other rivers +.
Strabot has observed, in attestation of the high anti-
quity of Homer, that the poet was not acquainted with the
empire either of the Syrians or Medes: “ otherwise,” says
the philosophical Geographer, with great appearance of
reason, “ when he mentions Aigyptian Thebes, it’s opu-
«lence, and the riches of Phoenicia, he would not have left
ἐς unnoticed the wealth of Babylon, Nineveh, and Ecba-
‘tana.’ In another place§ the same writer has remarked,
ἐς that Homer no where speaks of Tyre.”’—Now the pro-
bable conclusions from these facts are inevitable, and amount
to very powerful presumptions in favour of the present
argument.
«ς With the uses of elephant, or ivory (I quote the words
ἐς of Pausanias||) in artificial workmanship, many, it is plain,
ἐς were acquainted from remote antiquity; but the beasts
‘themselves had been seen by none, if you except the
“ς Indians, and Libyans, and the borderers on the countries
“ὁ that produced these animals, before the Macedonian expe-
«ὁ dition into Asia. Homer is a proof of this: who speaks
. of the couches and houses of kings and rich men, as
«ὁ adorned with elephant, but has no memorial of the beast;

* Gen. xv. 18. Jos. xv. 47. which furnishes a symptom of pleasing
conformity to the pretended antiquity of those books.
+ In his Theogony, ver. 388.
The Nile, Alpheus, and the gulfy Po.
Νὲιλον T ) AADEY TE, καὶ Hpidavoy βαθυδίνην
{ Towards the end of book xv. § Book xvi.
|| In Atticis, sect. xii.
ΕΣ

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. clxxy

* which, if he had ever seen it, or heard of it, he would
“* have been much more forward to commemorate, than the
“ὁ battle of cranes and pigmies *.”
The scholiast on Sophocles + speaks of the introduction
of the Tuscan Trumpet into Greece as contemporary with
the war of the Heraclidz: and, in addition to this piece of
history, the scholiast on Euripides ¢ informs us, that Homer
was acquainted with the ¢rumpet§, but never ascribes the
use of it to his heroes in the Jliad. Whence this inference
seems not unreasonable, that the trumpet was not commonly
employed as a warlike instrument in the days of Homer:
unless we can suppose a perpetual caution against all
anachronism and anticipation, in every instance perfectly
scrupulous and exact; with a sacrifice, at the same time,
perfectly unaccountable, of every opportunity for similitude,
allusion, and illustration from the customs and peculiarities
in question, which had been introduced within the interval
of the Trojan war and his own days; whence, as poetry
might receive frequent embellishment, it is perfectly incon-
ceivable, that a man of taste and fancy should not employ.
Clemens Alexandrinus|jtells us, that chaplets of flowers
in festival entertainments were not known to the ancient
Greeks; and accordingly are not attributed by Homer
either to the luxurious suitors or effeminate Pheacians.
Our learned author ascribes the first introduction of flowery
crowns to the public games of the Grecian states. Now
the first Olympiad is placed by the generality of chronolo-
gers] about the year 884 antecedent to the Christian era.

* See Iliad r. 3—7. to which passage Pausanias alludes.

+ Ajax, ver. 17.
J At the Pheenissz, ver, 1886. See also Aurelius Victor, cap. ix. 8 ?
and the commentators there, for more authorities on this point.
§ See Iliad =. 219. ||Pedag. 11. p. 212. ed. Oxon.
GJ Ispeak thus guardedly with a view to the chronological system of
Sir Isaac Newton, which appears to me, who am not competent to decide
τ on this subject, unassailable on the ground of Heathen testimony.
 elxxvi © GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
Pliny* remarks, that unguents, or mixed perfumest,
were unknown in the times of the Trojan war. Accordingly,
neither the term μυρὸν, by which those unguents are deno-
minated, nor even λιῦανος, Eastern incense, is found in the
poems of Homer: who could scarcely, therefore, be much
acquainted with their use; and that use must of course
have been partial in his age.
It is almost certain from Homer’s silence, when so many
_ opportunities of mentioning an artifice, wonderful beyond
all example, presented themselves, that alphabetical writing,
which migrated from the East into the States of Greece at
a very early period, was not known to Homer and his
contemporaries. The tablets, which Homer consigned to
the care of Bellerophont, could be only marked with
certain emblematical or hieroglyphic characters, in cur-
rency at that period; and the scholiast properly reminds
us{, that, as each of the Grecian chiefs are said to mark
his lot, before he cast it into the helmet, alphabetical
writing was not practised by Homer’s heroes.
In addition to these observations, which may contribute
their assistance in fixing the precise time at which Homer
flourished, and which certainly exhibit cogent presumptions
in favour of the high antiquity of that zra; I shall put
together a few thoughts of another kind, respecting
Homer; in my judgment, not destitute of probability,
and therefore worthy of communication in this place: first
premising, that, though they may appear derogatory in
some measure to the reputation of the father of Poetry,
as an unparalleled inventor, they will solve a puzzling

* Nat. Hist. xiii. 1.

* + See my Silva Critica, part v. p. 57, and the reader may find more
on this topic in Athenzus, Deipn. i. 15, and on the subject in general
in Huntingford’s apology for his Monostrophics. From an ignorance of
the distinct sense of μύρα or mixed perfumes, arose that erroneous criti-
vism of our countryman in Iliad xiv. 198.
{ Iliad Z. 168. . § At Iliad H. 175.
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. οἰχχνὶ
problem in the theory of the human mind, and may con-
tribute indeed to fix that reputation on the durable basis of
true and rational deductions.
We are generally instructed to believe, that Poetry issued
from the hands of Homer, like Minerva from the brain of
Jupiter, perfect and mature at once, without the customary
progress from lisping infancy to the full articulation of
maturer years: a supposition, irreconcileable at once to
reason, to history, and experience; a disposition, incon-
sistent with the invariable process attendant on every in-
tellectual operation of humanity, which is doomed to labour
through all the intermediate gradations of improvement to
the summit of complete efficiency. ‘The same bold theory,
which no ingenuity can defend, is imputable to the inven-_
tion of Alphabetic Characters, upon the prevalent hypo-
thesis; by which that most curious and matchless art is at-
tributed to the progressive exertions of mental sagacity and
experiment*. Now, in addition to this philosophical in-
congruity, which amounts to little less than a physical im-
possibility, and is, abstractedly considered, all but an effect
without a cause; a remarkable fact obtrudes itself on our
notice, subversive of this very prevalent, but wild, imagina-
tion. The poetry of Hesiod, but especially his epic speci-

* See my essay on this subject in the Memoirs of the Manchester

Philosophical Society; or, with improvements, in my own Memoirs.
In Godwin’s Political Justice, vol. i. p. 47, this question is stated with
a fulness and fairness very honourable to the candour of that writer,
considering the intractability of this subject to his purpose; and is an-
_ swered with equal imbecility. I will venture to assert, that no man
living can give any thing like a political solution of this problem, con-
sistently with either history, experience, or philosophy: and that
Alphabetical Writing will stand an unassailable bulwark against all the
batteries of Atheism, and a most powerful presumption against even
Deism itself, to the end of time. If I thought the public saw this sub-
ject in so striking a light as that in which I cannot but consider it, Γ
would give a separate edition of that essay, with very numerous and im-
portant corroborations of the position, on which it proceeds.
VOL, I. , M
elxxviii GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
men, * The Shield of Hercules,” which is not excelled, ἢ
think, in real sublimity of thought, or splendour of versi~
fication, by any portion of the Iliad, with which it can be
properly compared; this poem, I say, so exactly resembles
the acknowledged works of Homer, not only in the cha-
racter of it’s numbers, and in every circumstance of phraseo-
logy, but the adoption too of similar epithets, kindred
expressions, and verses of the same structure; that either
one must have borrowed from the other, or both must have
drawn. their supplies from the same common fountain. But,
as no historical tradition, and no internal peculiarity, will
authorise us to exculpate one of these poets from. the charge
of plagiarism at the expence of the other; so such a sup-
position will give us no assistance, at all adequate to the
present exigency, in explaining that philosophical difficulty
just stated, with respect to Homer’s instantaneous perfection,
as it were, in the poetic art. We discover then no alterna-
tive, to which recourse can be had for the solution of our
problem, but that of some common original, some pre-ex-
isting models of poetical execution; by which both these
favourites of the Muses were disciplined to that pitch of
excellence, which has been acknowledged in their writings
by the best literary judges of every succeeding age to. the
present day: an acknowledgment, not imputable, I am
persuaded, to an undistinguishing veneration for antiquity,
or a senseless acquiescence in the dogmatical edicts of former
critics. We know very well, that poetical effusions of un-
tutored genius are not uncommon even in that stage of
political imperfection, which school-taught pride has too
rudely stigmatised with the name of savage life; and that
Poetry is at least the invariable concomitant of encreasing
civilization and refining manners. Is it not morally certain
then, that a numerous race of bards must have exercised
their genius in so polished a language as that of Greece was
undoubtedly become in the days of Homer, for several
‘
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. clxxix
generations before. the birth of their immortal successor;
of which indeed that language itself, thus methodized and
attuned, is of itself a silent, but irrefragable, proof?) The
histories of Orpheus, Amphion, and. many others, are
blended, doubtless, with a copious infusion of traditionary
fiction; and the merit of these poetical theologians is seen
enlarged through the misty medium of mythological ob-
scurity ;but the tuneful. predecessors of the Homeric age,
amounting to no less than seventy in number, according to
Fabricius*, must have made, with some abatements from
this:catalogue (though many certainly existed, unknown to
written records now in being) such improvements in their
art, as must contibute-greatly to the perfection of all their
followers. But, as in a building, the foundation, which is
the more important part, is concealed under ground, while
the superstructure, supported by it alone, is seen, and en-
grosses our admiration; so Homer has concentrated in
himself that blaze of glory, which the irradiations of former
ages must have essentially contributed to form: and, as
honey, though collected from every variety οἵ. plants and
flowers abundantly diversified in the quality of their sweets,
-becomes one luscious mass, 9 in which no individual flavour
is now perceptible+;so the poetry of Homer compounds

* See the beginning of his Bibliotheca Greca.

+ Waller in his Chloris and Hylas :
Sweetest! you know the sweetest of things
Of various flowers the bees do compose ;
Yet no particular taste it brings
Of violet, woodbine, pink, or rose:
- So Love the result is of all the graces,
Which flow from a thousand several faces.
Of this elegant comparison Quintilian was the source, Inst. i. 10, in
‘a passage of superlative excellence: Nisi forte.antidotum quidém, atque
alia, que morbis et vulneribus medentur, ex multis atque interim con-
-trariis quoque inter se effectibus componi videmus, quorum ex diversis
fit illa mixtura una, quz nulli eorum similis est, quibus constat, sed pro-
prias vires ex omnibus sumit; et muta animalia mellis illum-inimitabilem
M2
clxxx § GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
and absorbs the separate excellencies of all the musical
fkaternity that preceded him. Nor am I unpersuaded,
that the standing epithets of his Gods and Heroes, with
other appropriate forms of speech, were already provided
to his hands, and become sanctified by long prescription to
invariable use. Whether any other assistances might be
derived by Homer, who probably makes but few excursions
in the main facts beyond the high road of authentic history,
from the remains of older bards, in the general plan and
structure of his wonderful performances, the eye of Cri-
ticism cannot possibly descry, from her low elevation on
the wreck of literature, through the palpable darkness and
wide waste of such remote antiquity.
From these previous observations on the poetry and age
of Homer, my attention must be now directed to our illus-
trious countryman, the sublime and elegant translator of
this prime hero in the grand assemblage of ancient genius.
Of the qualifications requisite for such an arduous under-
taking, both from its nature and extent, it cannot be dis-
puted, that Porr was endowed with sympathetic Genius,
with a delicate perception of poetic beauty, a trembling
sensibility, prepared to vibrate at every impulse of senti-
mental passion, an ear finely tuned, by the hand of Nature
and the key of art, to the voice of melody; with a com-
prehensive dominion over all the poetical versatilities of
language, and all the harmonious capacities of English
verse: that these qualifications, I say, were concentrated
in Pope, the texture of his original compositions, richly
beauteous and delicately graceful, abundantly demonstrates.

humane rationi saporem, vario forum ac succorum genere perficiunt:

nos mirabimur, si oratio, qua nihil prestantius homini dedit providentia,
pluribus artibus eget; que etiam, cim se non ostendunt in dicendo nec
proferunt, vim tamén occultam suggerunt, et tacité quoque sentiuntur:—
alluding to Virgil, Geo. ii. 397.
Et salis occultum referunt in lacte saporem.
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. clxxxi
But another endowment, eminently advantageous to a faith-
ful execution of such a project, the competency of his learn-
ing, I mean, may be the subject of reasonable controversy;
and, as my opinion of him in this respect exceeds, I be-
lieve to his prejudice, that ever entertained of him to this
hour, not only by neutral readers, but even by those who
have shown themselves most inclined to disparage his attain-
ments in the learned languages; I shall engage in a circum-
stantial discussion of this point, and lay at once my collec-
tion of evidences before the public, without fear and with-
out reserve: conscious as I am, that my supreme admiration
of the poetical powers of this extraordinary man, which
has bordered on enthusiasm from my very infancy, will
amply secure, with the dispassionate and candid, my ex-
ertions on this argument, without an appeal to general
character, from every suspicion of petulant singularity,
pedantic affectation, or barbarous malignity. In these re-
spects-I can adopt, I trust, the words of Horace with in-
disputable appropriation:

Hic nigre succus loliginis, hee est

/Erugo mera: quod vitium procul abfore chartis,
Atque animo prius, ut si quid promittere de me
Possum aliud veré, promitto.

With what accuracy and to what extent Pope may have

pursued his juvenile application to the languages of Greece
and Rome, I would not presume to specify: but we know
that a ready and familiar intercourse with these difficult and
copious tongues is not to be maintained, but by vigorous
exertion and unrelaxing industry. I shall first state, how-
ever, in few words my deliberate opinion on this point, and
shall subjoin my reasons for it: I shall afterwards corro-
borate my position by an investigation of all the material
evidence on record, either in the declarations of Pope him-
self, or in the testimonies of his acquaintance.
 ΟἸΧΧΧΙΙ GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
It is my persuasion then, that our poet, far from appre- ——

hending with suitable promptitude the original language of

the author, whom he undertook to exhibit in an English
dress, was not so familiarly acquainted even with the Latin
tongue, as to form an instantaneous conception of a passage
by reading Homer in the Latin interpretation of him, that
accompanies the school editions: by which expression I
understand such a ready conception of a sentence, as would
enable a reader to give an adequate translation of it with
a fidelity, that superseded a repeated and laborious perusal ;
a perusal, altogether incompatible, it is evident, with a
timely execution of so long a work. In proof of this asser-
tion, I can decisively pronounce, after an experimental ex-
amination of his whole performance, that he appears uni-
formly to have collected the general purport of every passage
from some of his predecessors, Dryden, Dacier, Chapman,
or Ogilby: ἃ process, not to be supposed, for a moment,
‘invariably pursued by any man, capable of forming a dis-
tinct, and, generally speaking, a true delineation of his
author from the verbal metaphrase of a Latin version. The
truth of this declaration will admit ef no controversy after
a practical examination shall be instituted by a specific com-
parison of our poet’s version with those of the translators
here mentioned: a truth, sufficiently corroborated by our
ability to refer all his misrepresentations, which are frequent,
and in many cases singular and gross, with all his alterations
and additions, which are innumerable, to one or other of
his predecessors; except in very few instances, which ana-
logy will set to the account of my incompetency, from read-
ing not sufficiently extensive and imperfect information, to
trace all his authorities and assistances, rather than ascribe
this failure to a fundamental error in my supposition. But
the notes, I presume, which I have interspersed through
the course of the poems, will ascertain this determination
beyond all possibility of contradiction.
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. — clxxxiii
An additional presumption, of great cogency, in sup-
port of Pope’s ignorance in the Greek and Roman languages,
may reasonably be rested on the strange and scandalous
blunders in the typography of the Greek and Latin quota-
tions throughout the notes on the Iliad and Odyssey, for
which the superior correctness of the English part will not
allow any other assignable cause whatever. I thought it
proper, as an incontrovertible and indelible testimony to
this effect, as the question may excite further discussion
and inquiry, that most of these quotations should be left
with all the improprieties of that edition, which past under
his own inspection; and particularly with the original
singularities of punctuation, which could never have been
so exhibited (though his system in this respect, it must be
owned, with regard to his own language is unaccountably
extraordinary) by one but moderately familiar with the
phraseology of his extracts. To furnish some examples
out of many, the reader is referred to the notes on Iliad iii.
280. Odyssey xii. «85. and to v. 28. for a most ignominious
and puerile mistake of the language of his author. But
nothing can more loudly proclaim his ignorance of the
Greek, or, if he were acquainted with it, his inexcusable
negligence in omitting to consult it, than the most vicious
pronunciation of proper names, throughout the poem: so
mistaking and confounding even the long and short vowels
with each other, as to prove, when he is right, that he is
right by accident: see Iliad 756. v. 705. Odyssey iii. 575.
ΧΙ. 483. ‘This species of blunder, however, has been fre-
quently adverted to in my notes, as occasion offered. But
a singular proof how much he translated on the authority of
others without recourse to his original, isfurnished in the note.
on Iliad iii, 475. for which my thanks are due to one, qualified
by the correctest taste and the most exquisite learning, be-
yond all competition, for the illustration of these subjects.
Besides, such of Pope’s notes, as contain any quotations
from the learned languages, or any references to ancient
εἰχχχν GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
authors, are in most instances uniformly ascribed to their
proper owners, Kustathius, Dacier, and Spondanus: some,
however, deduced from the same sources, are not acknow-
ledged, either from forgetfulness, or (as there is but too
much reason to surmise) a disingenuous affectation of eru-
dition, very inconsistent with those professions of good
faith and impartial distribution, so explicitly exhibited in
the preliminary observations to his version. For this reason,
the few learned remarks, for which my circumscribed ex-
cursions have not been able to find an owner, may be con-
cluded, I apprehend, upon the fairest probability, of a
congenial extraction with the rest.
Broome and Fenton, his coadjutors in the Odyssey, en-
joyed the advantages of a regular and academical education.
Accordingly, their obligations to Dacier, Chapman, and
Ogilby, either for sense or rhyme, will be found far less
frequent, than those of Pope.
It may be rejoined, however, and with much plausibility,
and even truth, as a general remark, that in traversing ἃ
country, which has been passed by a former traveller of
reputation, we are insensibly fascinated by the charm of
such an association, into the path of our predecessors, when
amore direct road was obvious; and even when the pro-
pensity of our guide to deviation and irregularity was too
well known. We have indeed a very remarkable and ap-
posite instance of this position in our poet’s blind adherence
to Dryden in his translation of the first Iliad. Though
Pope was so well aware of his master’s immoralities in
literature, (greatly palliated, no doubt, by the untoward-
ness of his situation) we see our poet, nevertheless, falling into
the most flagrant absurdities and wild misrepresentations of
that rambling version, when Dacier was open before him,
and so well qualified to furnish the true purport of his author.
Of the same fascination from the predominant influence
of a great example, we have no less singular proof in the
case even of Broome himself, who has left a decisive speci-
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. clxxxy
men of his classical abilities in an elegant Latin ode pre-
served in his works; and who, therefore, is a witness in this
cause beyond all exception. He has given us a translation
of part of the tenth Iliad in the style of Milton; one or
two quotations from which will suffice to show the reader,
how he followed the steps of Pope, from undistinguishing
reverence, or supine carelessness, when Pope had given a
very inaccurate exhibition of the original.
Ver. 15. of that book is thus rendered by Pope:
He rends his hairs in sacrifice to Jove ;
and thus copied in his interpretation by Broome:
now from his royal head
Rends the fair curl zn sacrifice to Jove.

See my note on the passage. Verse 85. runs thus in Homer:

Speak, nor approach in silence: tell thy will.
Pope renders: ἥ
Stand off, approach not, but thy purpose tell:
by the spirit of which Broome seems to have been led a
step further from his author:
Speak instant ; silent to advance is death.
But I forbear: for, though other instances might readily
be adduced, for want of dates in the life of Broome, I can-
not certainly determine, whether his translation of this,
and part of the eleventh book, might not be prior in time
to Pope’s. I should suppose otherwise, from various con-
siderations: if not, a comparison of the two versions, with a
view to point out the obligations of Pope, would have been
a curious and entertaining part of my undertaking.
Now, after this accumulation of internal evidence, which
appears to me upon the whole incapable of evasion, and
demonstrably declarative of the justice of my pursuasion on
“this subject; let us turn our attention in the next place to
what our poet has incidentally testified of himself, and to
the judgment and information of his contemporaries.
elxxxvl GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.

The: most express testimony of Pope himself to -this _

effect, within my recollection, occurs in his imitation of the

second epistle in the second book of Horace, verse 52*.
Bred up at home, full early I begun
To read in Greek the wrath of Peleus? son.
As this passage, however, ascertains an attempt only,
without any intimation of proficiency, we might leave it as
we find it without any detriment to the position, which I
maintain, and without reserve of allowance for the prompt
accommodation of an imitator to his model ; if Warburton’s
note on the verse did not put in a claim with considerable
emphasis on behalf of the classical erudition of our poet.
“ς At eight,” we are told, ‘“ Pope was put under one Taverner,
ἐς ἃ priest, who taught him the rudiments of the Latin and
“ Greek tongues together. From him, in a little time, he
“ἐ was sent to a private school at Twiford, near Winchester.
- Here he continued about a year; and was then removed
ἐς (0 another near Hyde-Park corner. Under these two
‘last masters, he lost the little he had got under the
ἐς priest. Attwelve, he went with his father into the Forest;
ἐς where he was, for a few months, under another priest,
ἐς and with as little success as before.”
τ 50 far, it is plain, his knowledge of the Greek and Latin
languages must be slender indeed. At eight years of age
he had been, for a short time only, initiated in the rudi-
ments; and his learning, for the next fowr years, is repre-
sented as stationary at best, if not retrograde. But our
commentator, whose energy and decision were conspicuous
in all his undertakings, thus proceeds: ** He at length
‘‘ thought fit to become his own master. So that, while he
τς was intent upon the subject, with a strong appetite for
‘knowledge, and an equal passion for poetry, he insensi-
ἐς bly got Latin and Greek. And, what was extraordinary,

* Rome nutriri mihi contigit, atque doceri,

Iratus Gratis quantum nocuisset Achilles.
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. clxxx vii

“¢ his impatience of restraint, in the usual forms, did not

“ὁ hinder his subjecting himself, now he was his own master,
“to all the drudgery and fatigue of perpetually recurring
“ὁ to his Grammar and Lexicon.”
Now who does not descry upon the very surface of this
narrative, if not an appearance of contradiction between an
insensille and laborious acquisition of knowledge at the same
time and in the same person, at least a romantic exaggera-
tion, with a view to agerandise the subject of his encomium,
and to supersede the circumstantial specification of direct
proof, by superinducing the veil of indistinct and general
panegyric? In opposition to these pompous, but gratuitous
pretensions, I might content myself with confronting only
those allegations, founded on existing and unquestionable
documents, before adduced; but I shall rather prefer a re-
ply in the words of Pope himself, which virtually contain
a positive confutation of this rambling statement, warped
from the line of truth by the potent and combined attrac-
tions of reverence for the Genius and affection for the man.
“The *greater part of these deviations from the Greck
** which you have observed, I was led into by Chapman
τ and Hobbes: who are (it seems) as much celebrated for
ςς their knowledge‘of the original, as they are decried for
ἐς the badness of their translations. For my part, I gene-
ἐς rally took the author’s meaning to be as you have ex-
ἐς plained it: yet their authority, joined to the knowledge
‘* of my own imperfectness in the language, over-ruled me.”
We may descry in this passage, under the cover of in-
genuous acknowledgement, a lurking affectation, which
impairs considerably the merit of so frank a confession of
insufficiency, by an ungracious reserve in behalf of his in-
dependant acceptation of his author: this, however, whe-
ther sincere or not, will by no means vouch the large pre-
tensions of Warburton in his behalf.. The remainder of
.* Pope’s Letter to Mr. Bridges, subjoined to his life by Dr. Johnson,
3
 elxxxvili GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
the letter, to which I refer, will appear to every sagacious
reader a genteel but artful attempt to undervalue critical
attainments, by a superior commendation of poetic powers;
yet not unattended by a wish at the same time to convey
an opinion of no slender acquirements in that very depart-
ment of literature, which he is endeavouring to depreciate ;
in consequence rather, he would wish us to conclude, of an
experimental conviction of its insufficiency and unimport-
ance, than from any defect of information in himself.
But now breaks in upon the glimmering twilight of our
inquiries the flaming testimony of Dr. Blair*! a testimony,
as Longinus remarks of the eloquence of Demosthenes,
calculated to confound, and shiver into atoms by a single
blast, all our meagre and insipid probabilities, in an instant.
‘I remember also distinctly, (though I have not for this
* the authority of my journal) that the conversation going
** on concerning Mr. Pope, I took notice of a report which
*¢had been sometimes propagated, that he did not under-
* stand Greek. Lord Bathurst said to me, that he knew
«ὁ that to be false; for that part of the Iliad was translated
4“ by Mr. Pope in his house in the country; and that in the
ἐς morning when they assembled at breakfast, Mr. Pope
ἐς used frequently to repeat, with great rapture, the Greek
“lines which he had been translating, and then to give
* them his version of them, and to compare them together.”
Now I may safely challenge any unprejudiced person, at
all acquainted with the circumstances of this question, not
to confess immediately his pursuasion of some essential ex-
aggeration in the statement before us; resulting either from
the memory or misconception of the relator, or from some
involuntary deception on the part of Lord Bathurst. His
Lordship, in the former case, it is possible, from a failure
in his eye-sight, might mistake some old English print for
Greek characters ; or see no books at all, and Pope truly
* See Boswell’s Life of Johnson, vol. iii, 199 of the 8vo. edition.
1
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. οεἰχχχίχ
translate at his house, but from Chapman, Dacier, and
Ogilby: and, in the latter circumstance of comparing the
version with its original, even Pope himself, under the
operation of vanity and self-importance, might make this
ostentatious exhibition of his pretended erudition before ἃ
company, whose slender acquirements he knew would
qualify them to become the dupes of such a solemn imposi-
tion. However this be, it is most certain, and demonstra-
ble from experiment, that no portion of Pope’s translation
for ten lines together can endure a contrast with his author
without manifest proof of the possibility of melioration by
closer adherence to him, with no sacrifice, at the same
time, of elegance and spirit: such a melioration too, as a
proficient in the Greek language must be supposed desirous
to accomplish, as well from inclination as from duty, and
against which not an argument, I apprehend, accompanied
by a mere shadowy semblance of probability, can be alleged
by the versatile ingenuity of the most sagacious and devoted
advocate. The remaining particular of Dr. Blair’s report,
which relates to the sonorous spoutings of Mr. Pope, reminds
me of a child, who was taught, like the parrot from his
cage, by an absurd preceptress, to mouth an ode of Anacreon
in astonishment of the gaping ladies, before he could arti-
culate even his mother tongue; and may be amusingly con-
trasted with the facetious dialogue between’ the Surgeon
and Parson Adams, from the pen of Fielding:
ἐς ΤΊ. company were all attentive, expecting to hear
*‘ the doctor, who was what they call a dry fellow, expose
*¢ the gentleman.
** He began therefore with an air of triumph: I sup-
“ pose, Sir! you have travelled? No, really, Sir! said
“the gentleman. Ho! then you have practised in the
“ hospitals, perhaps ?—No, Sir! Hum! not that neither?
“ Whence, Sir! then, if I may be so bold to enquire,
“ὁ have you got your knowledge in surgery? From books.
exe GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
“Books! cries the doctor. What! I suppose you have
«ὁ read Galen and Hippocrates! No, Sir! ‘said the gentle-
“man. How! you understand surgery, answers the
ἐς doctor, and not read Galen and Hippocrates !—I very
“seldom go without them both in my pocket. They are
‘pretty large books! said the gentleman. Aye, said the
«doctor, I believe I know how large they are better than
you. (At which he fella winking, and the whole com-
s¢ pany burst into a laugh).—
«ς Tsuppose, brother, you understand Latin? A little, says
ἐς the gentleman. - Aye, and Greek now, I'll warrant you:

« Ton dapomibominos polufloshoip ‘Thalasses. _

Pa

ἐς But I have almost. for σοῦ these ‘things: I ool have

yepeated Homer by heart once.—Ifags! the gentleman
‘has caught a Traytor, says Mrs. ‘Towwouse : at which they
«ς all fell a laughing.”
After this unpalatable and hazardous enquiry into the
classical attainments of our poet, it will not be unseasonable
to say a few words respecting the notes, which accompany
the Iliad and Odyssey of his own edition.
In general, the selection which has been made from ὡς»
stathius, Dacier, Spondanus, and other commentators, ‘is
not injudicious, nor ill calculated to illustrate and vindicate
his author... Some of a critical and philological complexion
are impertinent and empty in the extreme : pompous inani-
ties! such as might be presupposed to appear in a casual
collection by one, who rashly ventured to overstep the
province prescribed to his operations by. Nature and by
Study. Most of these I have passed by uncensured, as
derogatory to the dignity of criticism ; when the unlearned
reader would not have profited from critical correction, and
‘the learned could not require it. Such notes as appear
altogether original, which are few in number, come recom-
mended to_our acceptance by those unequivocal marks of
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. 6 exci

taste and fancy, of urbanity and acuteness, which could not

but distinguish the spontaneous animadversions of so fine a
genius upon the illustrious founder of his profession, and the
great exemplar of the poetic art. In this light, the notes of
Pope are very valuable and curious.
With respect to the notes on the Odyssey, I vehemently
suspect, I must acknowledge, some undiscovered imposition
upon the public. ‘These are generally ascribed to Broome,
and are indeed asserted as his own by Broome himself, in
the concluding note to this poem. And yet, if I mistake
not, a reader of sagacity will descry in many of them a deli-
cacy of thought and a gaiety of expression, indubitably cha-
racteristic of Pope himself: and it is scarcely conceivable,
that such a teeming imagination should translate twelve
books of the Odyssey, and correct the remainder, without
overflowing in some remarks on such an extraordinary and
interesting performance. In corroboration of my suspicion,
{ wish the reader to consult in particular the notes on verses
24 and 192 of the xvth book.
I feel myself engaged with an ungracious topic, but seek
a shelter from the malice of insinuation under a conscious
rectitude of purpose, and a determination to discharge, to -
the best of my abilities, the duty of an editor to the publick.
I must insist, therefore, that it will be in vain to combat
the reasonableness of my conjecture, by opposing the im-
probability ofan useless falshood on this occasion, whilst we
are acquainted with such repeated proofs of insincerity and
absurd deception, with regard to the distinct portions of
translation, severally executed by our triumvirate. Broome,
in the last note of the Odyssey, deliberately states his per-
formance to have been the 6th, 11th, and 18th books, and
that of Fenton, the 4th and 20th; but, in the postscript to
this poem, Pope himself, as if determined, from the com-
punction of repentance for this delusion of the publick on
the part of his coadjutor, to make an ample and ingenuous

ποοαν
οἰ
a
eA
exci GENERAL OBSERVATIONS,
confession of the truth, aggravates their offence by an odious
repetition of imposture, under the specious pretence of a
final and more scrupulous adjustment of their respective
claims. ‘* What assistance I received,” says he, ‘ was
** made known in general to the publick in the original pro-
ἐς posals for this work, and the particulars are specified at
‘‘ the conclusion of it: to which I must add (to be punctu-
‘¢ ally just) some part of the 10th and 15th books.”
Now the disingenuous chicanery of this solemn adjudica-
tion is universally acknowledged from abundant evidence ;
and may be collected, moreover, from my preliminary note
to the first book of the Odyssey.
If we turn our attention from this unpleasing reprehen-
sion to the translation itself, and consider the great extent
and multifarious difficulties of such an undertaking, we must
pronounce it an unrivalled effort, in it’s kind, of ingenuity
and taste. In the descriptive parts of the poem, such as the
catalogue of the ships and the list of warriors, the translation
of our countryman is at least equal to it’s original: and in
the sublimer exhibitions of Homer’s genius, particularly the
descriptions of his battles, our English bard seems instinct
with all the genuine fire, with all the divine enthusiasm, of
his sublime exemplar, and kindles in his progress with the
unborrowed raptures of native rage. His failings (for even
the Iliad of Pope is stamped with this signature of Humanity)
may be ranked, I think, under the following heads: 1. A
defect in suitable fidelity to his author: 2. A want of
simplicity: 3. Unnecessary and incongruous additions:
4, Careless or injudicious omissions; and, 5. lastly, Un-
pardonable rhymes, whether of dissimilar sound, or vicious
pronunciation. I shall presume to offer afew remarks upon
each of these particulars.
1. Want of Fidelity.
This defect must not be ascribed to negligence, ΟΝ
or precipitation, causes highly culpable, but to his igno-
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. oxciii
rance of the dead languages; or at least to that slender ac-
quaintance with them, which could not ascertain the sense
οἵ ἃ paragraph with a facility and expedition compatible
with so long a task. Hence Pope was necessitated, at a
period too late for laborious studies, to consult his ease by
resorting to such guides as were accessible to his enquiries:
an irreparable disadvantage this, and a lasting occasion of
regret to those who would have been gratified by a more
exact representation of the Father of ancient poetry in such
agarb: that is, to every admirer of the English muse. It
would be possible, beyond all controversy, to model Pope’s
version to an exact conformity with it’s prototype: but such
an accommodation, with whatever taste and elegance it
might be accomplished, and with whatever preservation of
every real ornament of the present version, would never
please; partly from a prepossession, not to be eradicated,
in favour of so great an artist, which would not allow it’s
proper merit to an execution of this nature; and partly from
an unconquerable propensity in the mind to revolt with
irreconcileable antipathy to such a motley composition of
discordant workmanship. ‘The notation, however, of such
infidelities has it’s use, both in furnishing the true sense of
Homer to those unacquainted with his language, and in
quickening the diligence and exciting the ambition of future
adventurers, by shewing the inefficiency of even the finest
genius, unseconded by every auxiliary of art and learning.
2. Want of Simplicity. |
In the present instance, the consequences of this defect,
namely, dissimilarity and incongruity of character, are more
lamentable from their importance, than those originating in
any other source. Homer is not more valuable to the votary
of poesy for hisnumbers and his fancy, than to the historian,
the moralist, and the philosopher, for his facts and manners.
He is, in the first place, with an exception of Hesiod only,
by far the most ancient specimen of heathen literature now
VOL. L. N
ὀχοὶν GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.’
extant in the world. His poems comprise an extensive
delineation of the geographical, astronomical, physical, and
medical attainments of his contemporaries; they exhibit the
religious sentiments and devotional practices of numerous
nations, the most renowned of antiquity; the various poli~
cies of the most civilized countries in Europe and in Asia;
the whole economy of social institutions and domestic
manners; and, in short, whatever can contribute to ascer=
tain the peculiarities of condition, and the extent of civili-
zation, as it respects intellectual improvement, political sta-
bility, and manual dexterities, in those remote ages of
the world. An accurate representation, therefore, in their
own tongue, of such a poem, which may be stiled with pro-
priety the mirror of ancient times, would certainly be an in
valuable acquisition to that numerous class of literary
enquirers, whose education and opportunities have not been
favourable to a full acquirement of the Greek language.
Now, in many instances, our illustrious countryman, partly,
it should seem, from a certain sickliness of taste, and partly
from a desire of compliance with the false delicacy of fastidi-
ous readers, has omitted, or disguised, characteristic circum-
‘stances of his author, which he supposed would not appear,
without danger of disgust, in modern poetry. Thus the
native lineaments of Homer are sometimes buried, and
sometimes distorted, by the indiscriminate colouring of
modern art: the wine is well-bodied, rich, and flavourous;
but has lost by adulterate infusion something of that conge-
nial raciness, which indicates and distinguishes the parent
soil. This defect of true taste, or rather this accommodated
deviation from it, is the more remarkable, as our translator,
with a singular inconsistency, enlarges in several places of his
notes on the essential importance of his author, as character-
istical of the simple customs and inartificial manners of those
early ages of the world. It is not improbable, I think, that
‘Roscommon, whom Pope justly reverenced, might. have
4
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. ΟΧΟΥ
some share in fixing the sentiments of the public and of our
translator, by those excellent verses in his Essay on trans-
lated verse, immediately connected with our present subject.
For who, without a qualm, has ever look’d
On holy garbage *, though by Homer cook’d ;
Whose railing: heroes, and whose wounded Gods,
Make some suspect he snores, as well as nods Tf.
But, in my judgment, (to comment on the case here spe-
cified, though not particularly applicable to this occasion
from a failure of Pope on that passage) a minute detail of
such a curious operation, as that of an ancient feast on
sacrifice, will readily compensate a hazard of disgust from
the employment of terms, intrinsically unoffending, and
merely rendered obnoxious by superinduced sentiments and
usages, wholly unauthorised by the simple suggestions of
Truth and Naturet. These artificial disaffections have
been productive of much inconvenience both in the concerns
of literature, by annihilating a considerable portion of
serviceable language to the squeamish writer, and in the
habitudes of common life. All such acquired niceties are
indeed in some respects justly regarded as the criterion of
depraved opinion and immoral practice ; as the incentives of
vice and lust, unknown among nations in the primeeval sim-
plicity of innocence, and doomed to final obliteration from
that consummation of human yirtue, which Reason pro-
claims to be attainable from the perfectibility of our Nature,
and to which we are strenuously exhorted by the reiterated
precepts of Christian purity: for, as the satirist justly
teaches,

* Alluding to Iliad i. 459—467. ver. 600—612. of Pope’s translation.

+ In allusion to Horace, Art. Poét. 359.
idemque
Indignor, quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus.
1 Quid nec sit vox ulla natura turpis. - Quint. inst. orat. viii. 3.
N 2
 exevi GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
Nunquam aliud Natura, aliud Sapientia, dixit:
Religion’s voice, and Nature’s, is the same,

On this subject our epic poet, (to whose merits as a

poet, a patriot, and a man, it is not easy for Panegyric to be
just) has expressed himself with a manly indignation, be-
coming the rigorous sanctity of his character:
Then was not guilty Shame, dishonest Shame,
Of Nature’s works, Honour dishonourable.
Sin-bred! how have ye troubled all mankind
With shews instead, mere shews of seeming pure;
And banish’d from man’s life his happiest life,
Simplicity and spotless Innocence !*
3. Unnecessary and incongruous additions.
It will happen not unfrequently, from the character of
English versification and the inevitable circumstances of a
passage, that a couplet, or a verse, must of necessity be
fabricated from a portion of the author not:verbally com-
mensurate to the quantity of version requisite to complete
the period: in which case the amplification, or addition,
now become indispensable, should harmonize with the pecu-
liar scope of the context, and the general character of the
writer. Let me explain my meaning by one or two exam-
ples upon this point. |
At Iliad ii. 731, it was found convenient to construct more
than one English verse from the following portions of ‘two
in Homer:
Ασκληπιδ δὺο παιδὲ,
ητὴηρ ἀγαθω:
Two good physicians, /Esculapius’ sons,
This sense, it is plain, without injurious defalcation,

* Apud Saliustium dicta sancté, et antique, ridentur ἃ nobis :—quam

culpam non scribentium quidém judico, sed legentium ;—quatenis verba
honesta moribus perdidimus. Quintil. inst. orat. viii. 3.
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. cXcvil
could scarcely be included, by any possibility of contrivance,
in a single verse: there was no alternative, therefore, even
under that concession, but a triplet, of which Pope was not
fond, and which, frequently employed, would be unaccept-
able to the generality of modern readers ; or otherwise of an
entire couplet. The latter expedient seemed preferable to
the translator: and accordingly, by a dextrous amplification
and a periphrasis incomparably elegant, in complete unison
with the spirit and sentiment of his author, he has executed
the passage with a felicity of excellence, that fills up the
largest expectation of the most admiring votary of Pope:
To them his skill their Parent-God imparts,
Divine professors of the healing: arts.
The reader will be pleased, perhaps, with another speci-
men also of venial expansion, in which no extraneous and
unsuitable thought is introduced, but a perfect correspond-
ence in every respect with the tenour of his original is
happily preserved: a specimen that rises to the highest
point of ingenuity, taste, and beauty; delightful, beyond the
delineations of language, to the genuine feelings of poetic
rapture.

Kav tore δὴ pow ἐπεσσιν ces Bomevos προσεείπον.

Ω Κιρκη, τὶς γὰρ ταὐτην ὁδὸν ἡγεμυονευσει ;
Eig Αἴδὸς δ᾽ 8 πω τις aQinero νηΐ μελανῃ:

of which, for the information of the English reader, and to

display with more justice and perspicuity the consummate
elegance and skill of Pope, I shall subjoin a literal transla-
tion:
Her with these answering words I then addrest:
But on that way, O! Circe, who shall guide?
None yet reacht Pluto’s dome in sable ship.
Hear now the voice of poetic inspiration, in a blissful
strain of immortality !
excviii GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
How shall I tread, I cried, oh! Circe, say,
The dark descent? and who shall guide the way?
Can living eyes behold the realms below ?
What bark to waft me, and what wind to blow?
Of some thoughts, engrafted on the original, it is not
so easy to decide, whether they merit praise or reprehension :
at the same time that they are unnecessary, they are not in-
congruous; elegant, but adventitious; such as may be de-
nominated not unaptly, ingenious superfluities : upon these,
I say, it were hazardous to pronounce a positive sentence
of condemnation. In Iliad x. 9, the couplet
By fits one flash succeeds, and one expires ;
And heaven flames thick with momentary fires:
is an addition of the translator, with a view to facilitate
and clear the connection between the comparison and the
subject ; to which purpose it is indeed well adapted. Again,
in Iliad xxi, 73, where I find less difficulty in determining,
of the following verse,
Earth, whose strong. grasp has held down Hercules :
the sentiment is general in Homer, and the specification of
Hercules is too bold, and an appendage of the translator, who
found this singular innovation ready to his hands in Chap-
man. So in that fine passage of Dryden’s Virgil, Ain. xii,
1351, less liable to exception, as conformable to truth in a
very apposite instance and ona very critical occasion :
Ye think, oh! think, if mercy may be shewn,
(Thou hadst a father once, and hast a son)
that pathetic clause in Italics is not found in Virgil. It
may be deemed, I am aware, a pedantic austerity of criti-
cism, and a meagre deficiency of taste, to pass a cold sen-
tence of disapprobation on such happy efforts of inventive
enthusiasm: but the first and indispensable requisite of
translation, is a punctual exhibition of the author, without
exaggeration, diminution, and distortion: so that deviations
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. CXCIX
of this kind, upon a disinterested view of the subject, are
barely sufferable after all on the score of extraordinary
merit, and in case of failure must incur unavoidably an
unqualified condemnation.
With respect to incongruous interpolations, of such a
character, as disfigure, misrepresent, and pervert the model,
no indulgence can be given them. Some such occur even
in Pope’s translation of the Iliad and Odyssey; but, as they
are pointed out in the notes, a distinct exemplification here
may be thought superfluous.
4, Careless, or injudicious, omissions.
Various defects of this class were inevitable in our poet’s
version, from a cause largely insisted on before; namely,
his ignorance of the Greek and Latin languages; or, if that
should not be conceded, what would be equivalent in it’s
operation on the present topic, but much more censurable,
his inattention to his author, and the contemplation of him
through the medium of previous translations only; such de-
fects, I say, were inevitable, unless we could suppose an
undeviating fidelity throughout on the part of his predeces-
sors, My notes are so generally occupied in animadverting
upon improprieties of this description, as to render a par-
ticular investigation unnecessary now.
5. Unpardonable rhymes, of dissimilar sound, or affected
pronunciation. 7
Rhymes of the former imperfection occur in every page,
and are abundantly noted by me in my progress through the
poem: my meaning in the latter shall be unfolded by one
example, from Iliad xiii. 161:
Nor deem this day, this battle, all you ne ;
A day more black, a fate more vile, ensuesς
and one from Odyssey xli, 397:
There o’er my hands the living wave I pour ;
And Heaven and Heaven’s immortal thrones adore.
The latter, most vicious, and, to my taste, insufferably
ca GENERAL OBSERVATIONS,
barbarous pronunciation, though very prevalént in our
times also, is the less allowable, as it confounds the word in
question with another of very different signification : and
a language is essentially injured by a voluntary accession
of inconveniences, arising from this confusion, too frequent
already in most, and abundantly in our own. ‘To him, who
shall be inclined to censure this judgment as unreasonably
severe, or affectedly delicate, I shall reply in the words of
Horace, as rendered by Roscommon in a pure tenuity of
unlaboured diction, well adapted to didactic poetry* :
Remember this as an important truth;
Some things admit of mediocrity :
A counsellor, or pleader at the bar,
May want Messala’s powerful eloquence,
Or be less read than deep Cascellius ;
Yet this indifferent lawyer is esteem’d :
But no authority of gods or men
Allows of any mean in poesy.
As an ill concert, or a coarse perfume,
Disgrace the delicacy of a feast,
And might with more discretion have been spar’d. ;
So poesy, whose end is to delight,
Admitsof no degrees; but must be still
Sublimely good, or despicably ill.

* Art. Poét. ver. 366—379.

-.-
---

O major juvenum, quamvis et voce paterna

Fingeris ad rectum, et per te sapis; hoc tibi dictum
Tolle memor : certis medium et tolerabile rebus
Recté concedi: consultus juris et actor
Causarum mediocris abest virtute diserti
Messale, nec scit quantum Cascellius Aulus ; .
Sed tamen in pretio est: mediocribus esse poétis
Non homines, non di, non concessere columne.
Ut gratas inter mensas symphonia discors,
Et crassum unguentum, et Sardo cum melle papaver,
Offendunt, poterat duci quia ccena sine istis ;
Sic animis natum inventumque poéma juvandis,
Si paullim summo decessit, vergit ad imum.
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. cci
Besides, one principal source of the gratification, that
springs from poetry, is undoubtedly derived from a display
of skill in the artist, and a conception of difficulty, on the
part of the reader, surmounted by dexterity of execution :
but what an abatement must be occasioned of course to this
pleasure, when words are either adopted for the mere con-
venience of the rhyme, as they casually present themselves,
independent of their fitness; or are admitted to a rhyming
station, without a scrupulous regard to proximity of sound:
and we are thus feelingly advertised at every step of the
laziness and inattention of the translator?
In many instances that the reader may not be precipitate
in his censures, I have omitted the mention of excepticnable
rhymes, when the same or similar had been noticed before,
from a desire of all possible brevity in such minute and un-
interesting criticism, mingled with a consideration for his
time, and a respect for his sagacity. Words of the same
form, but different in pronunciation, such as love, move,
Jove ; live, thrive, &c. with a great variety of other termi-
nations, must be conceded to the poet without demur,
in my judgment; or we shall impose a task upon him
transcending all the versatility of human wit, and shall un-
avoidably produce a too frequent recurrence of the only
rhyming words, that would be left for occupation. ‘There
are some others also, still more unlike, as even, given, Hea-
ven, &c. of such perpetual necessity and convenience, so
commodious in particular to the ends of verses, and accom-
modated by such a scarcity of parallels; so prevalent more-
over in our most accepted writers; as to claim an unreserved
indulgence from the rigorous sentence of proscription.
Thus, under the impression of reverential diffidence, bor
dering on religious awe, but sustained by a conviction of
disinterested purpose, and protected, I trust, by my enthusi-
astic admiration of the mighty genius and exquisite accom-
plishments of our tranlator, have I presumed, but with a trem-
ccil GENERAL OBSERVATIONS:
bling hand of conscious imbecility, to delineate a few dark
spots, scarcely visible but to the telescopic eye of searching
Criticism, on this luminary of transcendent brightness ;from
whose fountain the urns of all future adventurers in English
verse will be replenished. I commend, however, my well~
intentioned efforts to the candid acceptance of the reader,
and proceed to the conclusion of my remarks.
We should suppose of course, that any translator, and
much more an original genius, naturally impatient of such
restraint, would gradually sink under the fatigues of so long
awork. This was undoubtedly the case with Pope, even by
his own confession, in his Farewell to London:
Why should I stay ? Both parties rage:
My vixen mistress squalls :
The wits in envious feuds engage,
And Homer (damn him! } calls.
Accordingly, if I mistake not, an attentive reader will
discover more frequent instances of carelessness, and a lan-
guor creeping upon him with accelerated progress, towards
the conclusion of the longer books even in the Iliad: but
these symptoms become more numereus and strong through-
out the Odyssey; discoverable by frequent and considerable
abridgements of his author, and by inferior correctness.
Indeed, there is reason to suppose, that the second under-
taking partook much less of a spontaneous effort than the.
former: and was prompted, in a great measure perhaps, by
the cold incentive of pecuniary profit; and in part from a
desire of exhibiting a complete performance to the public.
_ In my opinion, if Time and Inclination had conspired to
that allotment, Dryden’s genius and mode of versification
were better suited to a version of Homer than of Virgil: as
Pope was eminently calculated in every point of view for a
noble exhibition of the Roman majesty in an English dress.
It must be owned, however, that poetry has sustained no
great loss by the discontinuance of Dryden’s attempt on
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. ccili
Homer with the conclusion of the first Iliad. The extreme
carelessness of that extraordinary genius, and his extra
vagant licentiousness in every species of deviation, have
rendered that specimen of his powers rather a disparagement
to the reputation of so glorious a poet, than a motive of
regret to his readers; though Pope, indeed, from a sincere
veneration for the vast endowments of his master, bordering
in this instance, I think, on puerile extravagance and
affected candour, has declared his disinclination to have
attempted Homer after Dryden, had he prosecuted his
andertaking. On the supposition of a proportionate
diligence in Dryden, the freedom and simplicity of his dic-
tion, his exuberant and flowing verse, distinguished by an
unaffected facility, that accommodated the most familiar.
passages, and a stateliness that would have kept pace with
the majesty of the most sublime, seconded by an unex-
ampled versatility of phrase and exuberance of composition,
characterise him as the congenial translator of the Grecian
bard: as Pope, from a most delicate sensibility of taste, a
judgment unimpeachably accurate and refined, a texture of
versification mellifluous, sonorous and majestic; with every
embellishment of poetical phraseology, at once magnificent
and chaste; seemed preeminently qualified to produce a
transcript of Virgil, which the fondest admirer of antiquity
would not have presumed to disparage in competition with
the great original. Yet, in the present state of things, we
could not consent to exchange our English Iliad for an
7Eneid, even of the same artificer: and much less for such
a Homer as he would have left us, could Dryden’s Virgil be
spared to our country; a work which contributed so much
to the improvement of Pope, as an excellent model, as a
treasury of poetic beauties, and as an incentive of emulation:
a work which made him indeed in a great measure what he
was. The stream of Pope’s poetry, clear, and full, and
strong, may be justly compared to the grandeur and exube-
eciv GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
rance of the Nile; but it’s fountains, like those of the river
of AXgypt, are not unknown.
The characters of the poetical translators of Homer's
poems who preceded Pope may be stated in few words:
and have been seen in some measure fairly and fully drawn
by the hand of Pope himself.
Chapman was not destitute of genius. His expression is
copious, diversified and vigorous; his execution spirited,
and occasionally rising into sublimity. The effect, however,
of his translation is much weakened by paraphrastical pro-
lixity and unauthorised interpolations to a degree of frivo-
lous puerility and wild licentiousness. His phrases and
epithets are sometimes eminently happy: of which, and of
his rhymes, our poet will be shewn to have availed himselfon
many occasions with little ceremony, and no scrupulous ac-
knowledgment of obligation. Such redundancy of senti-
ment and bold luxuriance of language afforded many oppor-
tunities of selecting flowers to so careful a scrutinizer in the
wilds of Poetry, as the bee of Twickenham.
-. Hobbes is stiff, jejune, and crabbed ; devoid of ornament,
and destitute of taste; he cramps, huddles, mutilates, and
burlesques his author: he is coarse, and vulgar, and flat
beyond the insipidity of verbal prose.
Homer, in the hands of the rigid philosopher of Malms-
bury, undergoes the harsh discipline of the dwarfs compres-
sed in boxes by the ancients*. ‘The unmerciful strictures of
the operator not only prevent an appearance of the body in
its native form and just proportions, but crush it to.de-
formity. A translator like this, in all respects illaudable,
could have but slender charms for the hilarity and elegance
of a teeming fancy and an improved taste: and accordingly
the obligations of Pope to Hobbes are few and trivial.
The chief merit of Ogilby consists in a commendable and

* See Longinus de Sub. sect. ult.

 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. cow
uniform fidelity to the sense of his author. As a poet, his
pretensions to praise of any kind can scarcely be supported:
he has neither animation of thought, accuracy of taste, sen-
sibility of feeling, nor ornament of diction. Yet our trans-
lator will be found to have consulted his version with un-
remitting steadiness, and to have profited by hisrhymes in
more instances than would be previously supposed. The
similar structure of his versification may be reasonably
deemed a principal cause of such particular attention from
Pope, who reflects upon this translator, by condescending
to borrow from him, an honour, which his own solitary efforts
would never have procured ; and has thus secured, perhaps,
the future existence of a version, just sinking into the gulph
of perpetual oblivion.
Pretty! in amber to observe the forms
Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms !
The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,
But wonder how the devil they got there.
As I have occasionally quoted, for the entertainment. of
the reader, and to relieve the dryness of verbal criticism,
several translators, subsequent to Pope, it may be expected
that I should pass a short judgment upon them also.
In the year 1740 H. Travers published by subscription a
miscellaneous collection of poetry: among which are trans-
lations of the three first Iliads, and from the sixth the story
of Bellerophon. The whole of this collection evinces a man
of genuine poetic talents; and the translations just mention-
ed are executed with considerable ability. But he treads
closely in the steps of Pope: and though he frequently im-
proves on his predecessor, the general effect of his version is
cold and feeble in comparison, and sufficiently shews at
every step the extent of his obligations to the model which
lay before him. He too, though a man of learning, has
supinely adopted some of his master’s misrepresentations of
their author.
The merits of Mr, Cowper it is much more difficult to
ecvi GENERAL OBSERVATIONS:
estimate, .with a benevolent regard at the same time to the
sacred feelings of an amiable writer, under a reverence
inspired by a man of fine genius, and with justice to the
public by a religiously scrupulous adherence to sincerity. I
speak with unwilling emphasis, but unaffected hesitation,
when I assert, if my own ears are not absolutely unattuned
to the mellifluous cadence of poetic numbers, the structure
of Mr. Cowper’s verse is harsh, broken, and inharmonious,
to a degree inconceivable in a writer of so much original
and intrinsic excellence. His fidelity to his author is, how-
ever, entitled to unreserved praise, and proclaims the ac-
curacy and intelligence of a critical proficient in his
language. ‘The true sense of Homer and the character of
his phraseology may be seen in Mr. Cowper’s version to
more advantage beyond all comparison, than in any other
translation whatsoever within the compass of my know-
ledge. His epithets are frequently combined after the Greek
manner, which our language most happily admits, with
singular dexterity and complete success: his diction is
grand, copious, energetic, and diversified; full fraught
with every embellishment of poetic phraseology: his turns
of expression are on many occasioris hit off with most in-
genious felicity ; and there are specimens of native simplicity
also in his performance, that place him at least on a level
with his author, and vindicate his title in this respect to a
superiority over all his. predecessors in this most arduous
and painful enterprise. Boswell, in his Life of Johnson,
has spoken of Mr. Cowper’s translation with an unfeeling
petulance, with an insolent dogmatism, perfectly congenial
to that rash and audacious censor.*
In conclusion, I must solicit the indulgence of the reader,
* This sentence would have been accompanied by some additional
chastisement: but the object of it is beyond the reach of human re-
formation : ;
From zeal or malice now no more to dread;
τς And English vengeance wars not with the dead.
 GENERAL OBSERVATIONS. ccvil
whilst I detain his attention by a few words concerning my-
self ‘more immediately, and, in particular, on my conduct
as the editor of these noble poems. I have some explana-
tions to give, many apologies to make, and much candour
to implore, or ever I can expect a favourable acceptance of
my labours.
It did not appear to fall within my province, as the
publisher of an English version, to digress into criticisms,
verbal or sentimental, on Homer himself; into disquisitions
on points of history and geography, and the economical
distribution of his poem: animadversions of this kind,
therefore, will be sparingly discovered, and only on occa-
sions when they were immediately demanded, from their
connection with the translation of our poet. What I con-
eeived to have become my principal duty, under this en-
gagement, was, 1. ‘l’o point out’the material deviations of
the translator from the sense of his original: 2, Τὸ open
the sources of these deviations, and, at the same time ex-
hibit the versions of those predecessors, by which he had
essentially modelled his own: and 3. lastly, To pass a free
censure, to the best of my judgment, on the defects of his
versification, that I might prevent as far as possible the
pernicious effects of weighty authority from so distinguished
an example; and might thus contribute, as far as the me-
diecrity of my talents and taste would enable me, to the
melioration of English poetry. ἐν
1. A deficiency of classical knowledge could not fail of
detection during the progress of so long a work as the
translation of Homer’s Iliad, though he is the most simple
and perspicuous of writers: and Pope’s aberrations from
the sense of his author are much too oblique and frequent
to be explained on any other conceivable hypothesis, with-
out a gross impeachment of his character as a literary pro-
fligate: otherwise, it were a most fraudulent imposture on
the public, and an immoral violation of this reasonable
ecviil GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
confidence, that a man, who profited so abundantly by his
undertaking,* should spare no labour within the compass
of his abilities in a conscientious discharge of his engage-
ment. Had he been adequately versed, therefore, in the
language of his author, such a neglect, as experiment will
prove upon him, would demonstrate an indifference to his
duty, or a lazy precipitation in the completion of his task,
for which no apology can be offered. And it seemed of
some moment, as a literary curiosity at least, that some ex-
aminer, not incompetent to such an office, should submit
to the invidious drudgery of pointing out to the English
reader in what. respects this sublime and elegant production
disagreed with it’s great original.
2. It seemed also not unlikely to be productive of some
amusement to the lovers of poetry, and a help to the forma-
tion of a true estimate of our poet’s merit in this work, to
trace his steps through the paths of his predecessors, as far
as they were discoverable now. Perhaps, however, the de-
duction from his praise of invention on this score may be
more than counterbalanced by the result of comparison
in favour of his taste: by contemplating the rich tissue of
poetical. embellishment, in which he has so gorgeously en-
robed the rags and nakedness of his predecessors. ‘They
at least, as I before insinuated, are indebted to him for
innumerable specimens of their straw preserved in the νe
“
E
αυ
ϑ
ὐ

pellucid amber of his genius; for abundant conversions of

their disregarded and forgotten rubbish by his magic touch
into the purest gold.

* But thanks to Homer since I live and thrive,

Indebted to no prince or peer alive,
are his own words of himself and his translation; uttered, alas! with
little truth and less modesty. The list of his subscribers is emblazoned
with royalty and nobility; and the man, who condescends to solicit the
public for subscriptions, let his genius and accomplishments be as eminent
as they please, is indebted to the benefaction of every. contributer.

1
 FIRST BOOK

OF THE

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 THE ARGUMENT.

THE CONTENTION OF ACHILLES AND AGAMEMNON,

IN the war of Troy, the Greeks having sacked some of the

neighbouring towns, and taken from thence two beautiful cap-
tives, Chryseis and Briseis, allotted the first to Agamemnon,
and the last to Achilles. Chryses, the father of Chryseis,
and priest of Apollo, comes to the Grecian camp to ransom
her ; with which the action of the poem opens, in the tenth
year of the siege. The priest leing refused and insolently
dismissed ly Agamemnon, intreats for vengeance from his
God, who inflicts a pestilence on the Greeks. Achilles calls a
council, and encourages Chalcas to declare the cause of it,
who attributes it to the refusal of Chryseis. The king, being
obliged to send back his captive, enters nto a furious contest
with Achilles, which Nestor pacifies; however, as he had the
absolute command of the army, he seizes on Briseis in revenge.
Achilles in discontent withdraws himself and his forces from
the rest of the Greeks; and complaining to Thetis, she sup-
plicates Jupiter to render them sensible of the wrong done to
her son, by giving victory to the Trojans. Jupiter granting
her suit incenses Juno, between whom the debate runs high,
till they are reconciled by the address of Vulcan.
The time of two and twenty days is taken up in this book;
nine during the plague, one in the council and quarrel of the
Princes, and twelve for Jupiter’s stay with the ALthiopians,
at whose return Thetis prefers her petition. The scene lies in
the Grecian camp, then changes to Chrysa, and lastly te
Olympus.

Be
 NOTE PRELIMINARY.

ERE Te

Iv is something strange that of all the commentators upon

Homer, there is hardly one whose principal design is to illustrate
the poetical beauties of the author. They are voluminous in ex-
plaining those sciences which he made but subservient to his
poetry, and sparing only upon that art which constitutes his cha-
racter. This has been occasioned by the ostentation of men who
had more reading than taste, and were fonder of showing their
variety of learning in all kinds, than their single understanding
in poetry. Hence it comes to pass that their remarks are rather
philosophical, historical, geographical, allegorical, or in short
any thing rather than critical and poetical. Even the gramma-
rians, though their whole business and use be only to render the
words of an author intelligible, are strangely touched with the
pride of doing something more than they ought. The grand
ambition of one sort of scholars is to increase the number of
various lections ; which they have done to such a degree of obscure
diligence, that (as Sir H. Savil observed) we now begin to value
the first edition of books as most correct, because they have been
the least corrected. The prevailing passion of others is to discover
new meanings in the author, whom they will cause to appear
mysterious purely for the vanity of being thought to unravel him.
These account it a disgrace to be of the opinion of those that pre-
ceded them ; and it is generally the fate of such people who will
never say what was said before, to say what will never be said
after them. If they can but find a word, that has once been
strained by some dark writer, to signify any thing different from
its usual acceptation, it is frequent with them to apply it con-
stantly to that uncommon meaning, whenever they meet it in a
clear writer: for reading is so much dearer to them than sense,
that they will discard it at any time to make way for a criticism.
In other places, where they cannot contest the truth of the com-
mon interpretation, they get themselves room for dissertation by s
e
et
tt
te
h e

imaginary amphibologies, which they will have to be designed by

the author. This disposition of finding out different significa~
tions in one thing may be the eifect of either too much, or too
little wit; for men of a right understanding generally see at once
all that an author can reasonably mean, but others are apt to fancy
two meanings for want of knowing one. Not to add, that there
 NOTE PRELIMINARY.

is a vast deal of difference between the learning of a critick, and

the puzzling of a grammarian. *
It is no easy task to make something out of a hundred pedants
that is not pedantical; yet this he must do, who would give ἃ
tolerable abstract of the former expositors of Homer. The com-
mentaries of Eustathius are indeed an immense treasury of the
Greek learning ; but as he seems to have amassed the substance of
whatever others had written upon the author, so he is not free from
some of the foregoing censures. There are those who have said
that a judicious abstract of him alone might furnish out sufficient
illustrations upon Homer. It was resolved to take the trouble of
reading through that voluminous work; and the reader may be
assured those remarks that any way concern the poetry, or art of
the poet, are much fewer than is imagined. The greater part of
these is already plundered by succeeding commentators, who have
very little but what they owe to him: and I am obliged to say
even of Madam Dacier, that she is either more beholden to him
than she has confessed, or has read him less than she is willing to
own, She has made a farther attempt than her predecessors to dis-
cover the beauties of the poet; though we have often only her
general praises and exclamations, instead of reasons. But her
remarks all together are the most judicious collection extant of the
scattered observations of the ancients and moderns, as her preface
is excellent, and her translation equally careful and elegant.
The chief design of the following notes is to comment upon
Homer as a poet; whatever in them is extracted from others is
constantly owned ; the remarks of the ancients are generally set at
length, and the places cited; all those of Eustathius are collected
which fall under this scheme ; many which were not acknowledged
by other commentators are restored to the true owner; and the
same justice is shown to those who refused it to others.
The plan of this poem is formed upon anger and its ill effects ;
the plan of Virgil’s upon pious resignation and its rewards; and
thus every passion or virtue may be the foundation of the scheme of
an epic poem. This distinction between two authors who have
been so successful, seemed necessary to be taken notice of, that they
who would imitate either may not stumble at the very entrance, or
so curb their imaginations, as to deprive us of noble morals told
in a new variety of accidents. Imitation does not hinder inven-
tion : we may observe the rules of nature, and write in the spirit
 NOTE PRELIMINARY.

of those who have best hit upon them ; without taking the same
track, beginning in the same manner, and following the main of
their story almost step by step ; as most of the modern writers of
epic poetry have done after one of these great poets. P.
 THE

FIRST BOOK

OF THE

I L I A D.

ACHILLES wrath, to Greece the direful spring

Of woes unnumber’d, heavenly Goddess, sing !
That wrath which hurl’d to Pluto’s gloomy reign
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain;
Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore, 5
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore :

NOTES.
Ver. 3.1] This is an imitation of Dacier.—‘ Cette colere
*¢ pernicieuse,—qui precipita dans le sombre royaume de Pluton,
“ les ames généreuses de tant de héros.’? Ww.
Ver. 5.] He had once written, ᾿
on the hostile shore:
Which was better: as the circumstance of being unburied in an
enemy’s country would be an additional cause of sorrow to a hea
then in those days.
I shall give now, as on many future occasions, a literal copy of
the original in equal compass ;not as a proper and complete version
by any means, but as the only method of notifying to the English
reader the deviations, the omissions, the amplifications, the addis
tions, and the embellishments of our poet:
And make them spoils of every dog and fowl :
8 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, =

Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of

Jove !

where the general word every is very emphatical, and is designed

to point out their utterly abandoned and defenceless state, so as to
be secure from no animals, however small, and feeble, and irre-
solute.
In this exordium, and in similar passages of narrative and simple
description, a version like Pope’s infinitely exceeds, in my opi-
nion, axy blank translation that could be given. Rhyme is such
a decoration, as a poetical subject in this case seems absolutely to
require. W.
Ver. 8. Will of Jove.] Plutarch in his treatise of reading poets,
interprets Διὸς in this place to signify Fate, not imagining it con-
sistent with the goodness of the supreme being, or Jupiter, to con-
trive or practice any evil against men. Eustathius makes [Will] --
---
-ππτ
-I

here to refer to the promise which Jupiter gave to Thetis, that he

would honour her son by siding with Troy, while he should be
absent. But to reconcile these two opinions, perhaps the meaning
may be, that when Fate had decreed the destruction of Troy, Ju-
piter having the power of incidents to bring it to pass, fulfilled
that decree by providing means for it. So that the words may
thus specify the time of action from the beginning of the poem, in
which those incidents worked, till the promise to Thetis was ful-
filled, and the destruction of Troy ascertained to the Greeks by
the death of Hector. However it is certain that this poet was not
an absolute fatalist, but still supposed the power of Jove superior :
for in the sixteenth Iliad, we see him designing to save Sarpedon,
though the fates had decreed his death, if Juno had not interposed.
Neither does he exclude free-will in men ; for as he attributes the
destruction of the heroes to the will of Jove in the beginning of
the Iliad, so he attributes the destruction of Ulysses’s friends to
their own folly in the beginning of the Odysses. F.
The true interpretation of the passage in question is not ob-
vious. I understand the poet as follows: “ But the will of Jove
* was all this time accomplishing. He had decreed the destruction
“of Troy, which was brought forwards by this very mean, the
“4 quarrel between the chiefs ; a circumstance that appeared very
“ likely to impede, and even frustrate, the grand event. For the
resentment, occasioned by the death of Patroclus, was fatal to
s¢ Hector, and in him to Troy.” W.
ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 9

Declare O Muse! in what ill-fated hour

Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power? 10
Latona’s son a dire contagion spread,
And heaped the camp with mountains of the
dead;
The king of men his reverend priest defied,
And for the king’s offence the people died.
For Chryses sought with costly giftsto gain 15
His captive daughter from the victor’s chain.
Suppliant the venerable father stands,
Apollo’s awful ensigns grace his hands :
By these he begs; and lowly bending down,
Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown. 20
He sued to all, but chief implored for grace
The brother-kings, of Atreus’ royal race.
Ye kings and warriors! may your vows be
crown’d,
And Troy’s proud walls lie level with the ground.
May Jove restore you, when your toils are o’er, 25
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.
But oh! relieve a wretched parent’s pain,
And give Chryseis to these arms again ;

Ver. 14.] An edifying reflexion, engrafted on the original, and

derived from Horace;
———delirant reges, plectuntur Achivi:
And subjects rue the madness of their kings. Ww.
Ver. 20. Thesceptre and the laurel crown.] There issomething
exceedingly venerable in this appearance of the priest. He comes
with the ensigns of the God he belonged to; the laurel crown, now
carried in his hand, to show he was ἃ suppliant ; and a golden
sceptre, which the ancients gave in particular to Apollo, as they
did a silver one to the moon, and other sorts to the planets.—
Eustathius. P.
10 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

If mercy fail, yet let my presence move,

And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove. 30
The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare,
The priest to reverence, and release the fair.
Not so Atrides: He, with kingly pride,
Repuls’d the sacred. Sire, and thus replied :
Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains, 35
Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detains :
Hence, with thy laurel crown and golden rod,
Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy God.
Mine is thy daughter, priest, and shall remain;
And prayers, and tears, and bribes shall plead in
vain; 40
|
|
Ver. 30.] Our poet here, and above in v. 18, omits an image
of his original, which he might easily have preserved by writing
thus:
And dread far-shooting Phoebus, son of Jove. Ww.
Ver. 811 Ogilby and Chapinan alone, of 811} the rhyming
translators, are true to their author. * The former is not con-
temptible:
Straight all the Greeks, as one, their voices give,
The priest to honour, and his gifts receive.
Ver. 35.] He took from Dryden this awkward phrase, δων
on thy life ; and has very inadequately represented his original, when
Chapman and Ogilby had already done more justice to their author.
The version of the latter is not to be despised:
Be sure, old dotard, thee I never meet
Here lingering, or revisiting our fleet.
Homer says these ships, not these plains. The remainder of this
speech is nobly poetical in our translator: but he has followed
Dryden in misrepresenting the original in verse 44. Mr. Cowper
thus exhibits the complete sense ; but, for once, without force, ele-
gance, or animation :
From her native country far,
In Argos, in my palace, she shall ply
The loom, and shall be partner of my bed. / W.
BOOK I. HOMER’s ILIAD. 11

Till time shall rifle every youthful grace,

And age dismiss her from my cold embrace.
In daily labours of the loom employ’d,
Or doom’d to deck the bed she once enjoy’d.
Hence then! to Argos shall the maid retire, A5
Far from her native soil, and weeping sire.
The trembling priest along the shore return’d,
And in the anguish of a father mourn’d.
Disconsolate, not daring to complain,
Silent he wander’d by the sounding main: 50
Till, safe at distance, to his God he prays,
The God who darts around the world his rays.
O Smintheus ! sprung from fair Latona’s line,
Thou guardian power of Cilla the divine,
Thou source of light! whom Tenedos adores, 55
And whose bright presence gilds thy Chrysa’s shores :
If e’er with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane,
Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain,
God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ,
Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy. 60
‘Thus Chryses pray’d : The favouring power attends,
And from Olympus’ lofty tops descends.
Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to wound;
Fierce as he mov’d, his silver shafts resound.

Ver. 51.) Thisignoble extraneous thought is from Dryden:

secure at length he stood.
Or it might be suggested, indeed, by Chapman’s version :
the priest, trod off with haste and feare :
And, walking silent, till he felt, farre off his enemies eare. W.
Ver. 62.] He might easily have kept closer to his original:
And from Olympus’ tops in wrath descends.
 19 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread, 65 —

And gloomy darkness roll’d about his head.

The fleet in view, he twang’d his deadly bow,
And hissing fly the feather’d fates below.
On mules and dogs the’ infection first began;
And last, the vengeful arrows fix’d in man. 70

Ver. 67. He twang’d his deadly δου. In the tenth year of the
siege of Troy, a plague happened in the Grecian camp, occasioned
perhaps by immoderate heats and gross exhalations. At the intro-
duction of this accident Homer begins his poem, and takes occa-
sion from it to open the scene of action with a most beautiful alle-
gory. He supposes that such afflictions are sent from heaven for
the punishment of our evil actions; and because the sun was a prin-
cipal instrument of it, he says it was sent to punish Agamemnon for
despising that God, and injuring his priest. Eustathius. 4
Ver. 69. Mules and dogs.| Hippocrates observes two things of
plagues ; that their cause is in the air, and that different animals
are differently touched by them, according to their nature or nou-
rishment. This philosophy Spondanus refers to the plague here
mentioned. First, the cause is in the air, by reason of the darts
or beams of Apollo. Secondly, the mules and dogs are said to
die sooner than the men; partly because“they have by nature a
quickness of smell, which makes the infection sooner perceivable:
and partly by the nourishment they take, their feeding on the earth
with prone heads making the exhalation more easy to be sucked in
with it. Thus has Hippocrates, so long after Homer writ, sub-
scribed to his knowledge in the rise and progress of this distemper.
There have been some who have referred this passage to a religious
sense, making the death of the mules and dogs before the men to
point out a kind of method of providence in punishing, whereby
it sends some previous afflictions to warn mankind, so as to make
them shun the greater evils by repentance. This Monsieur Dacier,
in his notes on Aristotle’s art of poetry, calls a remark perfectly
fine and agreeable to God’s method of sending plagues on the
Egyptians, where first horses, asses, &c. were smitten, and after-
wards the men themselves.
Heraclides Ponticus, in his most elegant treatise on the Allego-
ries of Homer, remarks, that the most accurate observations of
physicians and philosophers, unite in testifying the commencement
‘

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e
a
F
a
R
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ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 13

For nine long nights, thro’ all the dusky air

The pyres thick-flaming shot a dismal glare.
But ere the tenth revolving day was run,
Inspir’'d by Juno, Thetis’ God-like son
Conven’d to council all the Grecian train ; ~]Ver

For much the goddess mourn’d her heroes slain.

The’ assembly seated, rising o’er the rest,
Achilles thus the king of men addrest :
Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore,
And measure back the seas we crost before ? 80
The plague destroying whom the swerd would
spare,
*Tis time to save the few remains of war.
But let some prophet, or some sacred sage,
Explore the cause of great Apollo’s rage;
Or learn the wasteful vengeance to remove 85
By mystic dreams, for dreams descend from Jove.

of pestilential disorders to be exhibited in the havoc of four-footed

animals. Pr
Ver. 86. By mystic dreams.] It does not seem that by the word
ὀνειρόπολος an interpreter of dreams is meant, for we have no hint
of any preceding dream which wants to be interpreted. We may
therefore more probably refer it to such who used (after perform
ing proper rites) to lie down at some sacred place and expect a
dream from the Gods upon any particular subject which they ἀθ-
sired. That this was a practice among them, appears from the
Temples of Amphiaraus in Boeotia and Podalirius in Apulia, where
the inquirer was obliged to sleep at the altar upon the skin of the
beast he had sacrificed, in order to obtain an answer, It is in
this manner that Latinus in Virgil’s seventh book goes to dream
in the temple of Faunus, where we have a particular description
of the whole custom. Strabo, lib. xvi. has spoken concerning
the temple of Jerusalem as a place of this nature ; “‘ where (says
“« he) the people either dreamed for themselves, or procured some
‘‘ ood dreamer to do it.” By which it should seem he had read
 14 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK 1.

If broken vows this heavy curse have laid,

Let altars smoke, and hecatombs be paid.
So Heaven aton’d shall dying Greece restore,
And Pheebus dart his burning shafts no more. 90
He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus replied:
Chalcas the wise, the Grecian priest and guide,
That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view
The past, the present, and the future knew:
Uprising slow, the venerable sage 95
Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of age.
Beloved of Jove, Achilles! wouldst thou know
Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal bow ?

something concerning the visions of their prophets, as that-which

Samuel had when he was ordered to sleep a third time before the
ark, and upon doing so had an account of the destruction of Eli’s
house ; or that which happened to Solomon, after having sacrificed
before the ark at Gibeon. ‘The same author has also mentioned
the temple of Serapis in his seventeenth book, as a place for re-
ceiving oracles by dreams. P.
Ver. 96.] He should have written: -
« Thus spake the prudence:”
asin numberless other instances. And the original says merely,
as Mr. Cowper renders:
He, prudent, them admonishing replied. W.
Ver. 97. Beloved of Jove, Achilles!] ‘These appellations of
praise and honour, with which the heroes in Homer so frequently
salute each other, were agreeable to the style of the ancient times,
as appears from several of the like nature in the scripture. Mil-
ton has not been wanting to give his poem this cast of antiquity,
throughout which our first parents almost always accost each other
‘with some title, that expresses a respect to the dignity of human
nature,
Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve——
Adam, Earth’s hallow’d mould of God inspir’d.
Offspring of heaven and earth, and all earth’s Lord, &c.
Our translator is unhappy in this speech of Chalcas, which partly
perverts, and partly suppresses, the original. Mr. Travers is more
BOOK I. HOMER’s ILIAD. 15

First give thy faith, and plight a prince’s word

Of sure protection, by thy power and sword. 100
For I must speak what wisdom would conceal,
And truths, invidious to the great, reveal.
Bold is the task, when subjects grown too wise,
Instruct a monarch where his error lies;
For tho’ we deem the short-liv’d fury past, 105
Tis sure, the mighty will revenge at last.
To whom Pelides. From thy inmost soul
Speak what thou know’st, and speak without con-
troul.
Even by that God I swear, who rules the day,
To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey, 110
And whose blest oracles thy lips declare,
Long as Achilles breathes this vital air,
No daring Greek of all the numerous band,
Against his priest shall lift an impious hand :
Not ev’n the chief by whom our hosts are led, 115
The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head.
Encourag’d thus, the blameless man replies ;
Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice,
But he, our chief, provok’d the raging pest,
Apollo’s vengeance for his injur’d priest. 120
Nor will the God’s awaken’d fury cease,
But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase,

successful in one part; though even he has not shewn his skill in
preserving the indirect dexterity of Homer.
I guess my speech the monarch’s rage will bring ;
And how shall subjects trust an angry king?
Tho’ he, perhaps, no blaze of passion shews,
Fierce in his mind the dark resentment glows. W.
3
16 HOMER’s ILIAD. ποὐῥΚῬδὰ
Till the great king, without a ransom paid,
To her own Chrysa send the black-ey’d maid.
Perhaps, with added sacrifice and prayer, 125
The priest may pardon, and the God may spare.
The prophet spoke ; when with a gloomy frown
The monarch started from his shining throne;
Black choler fill’d his breast that boil’d with ire,
And from his eye-balls flash’d the living fire. 130
Augur accurst ! denouncing mischief still,
Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill !
Still must that tongue some wounding message bring,
And still thy priestly pride provoke thy king ἢ
For this are Phoebus’ oracles explor’d, 135
To teach the Greeks to murmur at their Lord ?
For this with falsehoods is my honour stain’d,
Is Heaven offended, and a priest profan’d;
Because my prize, my beauteous maid I hold,
And heavenly charms prefer to proffer’d gold? 140
A maid, unmatch’d in manners ὯΝ in face,
ΚΙ ἃ in each art, and crown’d with every grace.

Ver. 128.] Homer says only, he'rose up $

but Dryden: .
Upstarting from his throne, the king of men. Ww.
Ver. 191. Augur accurst!| This expression is not merely
thrown out by chance, but proves what Chalcas said of the King
when he asked protection, “ That he harboured anger in his
heart.”” For. it aims at the prediction Chalcas had given at Aulis
nine years before, for the sacrificing his daughter Iphigenia.
Spondanus.
Ver. 137.] His original runs literally thus:
That hence the God far-darting sends these woes,
Because the splendid ransom I refused
Of νοῦν Chryseis. W.
 BOOK I. HOMER’s ILIAD. 17

Not half so dear were Clytemnestra’s charms,

When first her blooming beauties blest my arms.
Yet if the Gods demand her, let her sail; 145
Our cares are only for the public weal :
Let me be deem’d the hateful cause of all,
And suffer, rather than my people fall.
The prize, the beauteous prize, I will resign,
So dearly valued, and so justly mine. 150
But since for common good I yield the fair,
My private loss let grateful Greece repair;
Nor unrewarded let your prince complain,
That he alone has fought and bled in vain.
Insatiate king! (Achilles thus replies) 155
Fond of the power, but fonder of the prize !
Ver. 155. Insatiate king.] Here, when this passion of anger
grows loud, it seems proper to prepare the reader, and prevent his
mistake in the character of Achilles, which might shock him in
several particulars following. We should know that the poet
rather studied nature than perfection, in the laying down his chae
racters. He resolved to sing the consequences of anger ; he con-
sidered what virtues and vices would conduce most to bring his
moral out of the fable; and artfully disposed them in his chief
persons after the manner in which we generally find them ; making
the fault which most peculiarly attends any good quality to reside
with it. Thus he has placed pride with magnanimity in Agamem-
non, and craft with prudence in Ulysses. And thus we must take
his Achilles, not as a mere heroick dispassionate character, but as
compounded of courage and anger ; one who finds himself almost
invincible, and assumes an uncontrouled carriage upon the self-
conscicusness of his worth ; whose high strain of honour will not
suffer him to betray his friends, or fight against them, even when
he thinks they have affronted him ; but whose inexorable resent-
ment will not let him hearken to any terms of accommodation.—
These are the lights and shades of his character, which Homer
has heightened and darkened in extremes ; because on the one side
valour is the darling quality of epic poetry ; and on the other,
anger the particular subject of this poem. When characters thus
VOL. I.
18 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK f.

Would’st thou the Greeks their lawful prey should

yield,
The due reward of many a well-fought field ?
The spoils of cities razed, and warriors slain,
We share with justice, as with toil we gain: 160
But to resume whatever thy avarice craves,
(That trick of tyrants) may be borne by slaves.
Yet if our chief for plunder only fight,
The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss requite,
Whene’er, by Jove’s decree, our conquering powers 165
Shall humble to the dust her lofty towers.
Then thus the king. Shall I my prize resign
With tame content, and thou possest of thine ?
Great as thou art, and like a God im fight,
Think not to rob me of a soldier’s right. 170

mixed are well conducted, though they be not morally beautiful

quite through, they conduce more to the end, and are still poeti-
eally perfect.
Plutarch takes occasion from the observation of this conduct in
Homer, to applaud his just imitation of nature and truth, in repre-
‘senting virtues and vices intermixed in his Heroes ; contrary to the
paradoxes and strange positions of the Stoicks, who held that no
vice could consist with virtue, nor the least virtue with vice. Plut.
de aud. poetis. PB.
* Ogilby is unpoetical, but close to his ὑῳ; ἔαρ
To this Macides ; Oh! thou the most i
- Renown’d, and yet the greediest of the host. = = = W.
Ver. 1617 This is wide of the original, to which most of —
the other translators have adhered. Mr. Travers thus:
Can we resume each private warrior’s right,
' And part anew the vast rewards of fight :τ W.
Ver. 163.] ‘There is nothing of this in his original. The
following correction would make the translation faithful:
Thou then indulge-a tender parent’s prayer +
The spoils of Tlion shall thy loss repair. W.
Ver. 169. Great as thou art, and like a Ged in fight.]. The
 BOOK I, HOMER’s ILIAD. 19

At thy demand shall I restore the maid ?

First let the just equivalent be paid;
Such as a king might ask; and let it be
A treasure worthy her, and worthy me.
Or grant me this, or with a monarch’s claim, 175
This hand shall seize some other captive dame.
The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign,
Ulysses’ spoils, or even thy.own be mine.
The man who suffers, loudly may complain;
And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain. 180
But this when time requires—It now remains
We launch a bark to plow the watery plains,

words in the original are 9 εοείκελ᾽ ᾿Αχιλλεῦ. Ulysses is soon after

called Δῖος, and others in other places. The phrase of divine or
god-like is not used by the poet to signify perfection in men, but
applied to considerable persons upon account of some particular
qualification or advantage, which they were possessed of far above
the common standard of mankind. Thus it is ascribed to Achilles
on account of his great valour, to Ulysses for his pre-eminence in
wisdom ; even to Paris for his exceeding beauty, and to Clytem-
nestra for several fair endowments. P.
Ver. 172. First let the just equivalent.] The reasoning in point
of right between Achilles and Agamemnon seems to be this.—
Achilles pleads that Agamemnon could not. seize upon any other
man’s captive, without a new distribution, it being an invasion of
private property. On the other hand, as Agamemnon’s power
was limited, how came it that all the Grecian captains would sub-
mut to an illegal and arbitrary action? I think the legal pretence
for his seizing Briseis must have been founded upon that law,
whereby the commander in chief had the power of taking what
part of the prey he pleased for his own use: and he being obliged
to restore what he had taken, it seemed but just that he should
have a second choice, : . | F
Ver. 175.] This thought, not in the original, he owed to
Dryden:
Else I, assure thy soul, by sovereign right,
Will seize thy captive in thy own despight. Ww.
. C2
90 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa’s shores,

With chosen pilots, and with labouring oars. —_—

Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend, 185

And some deputed prince the charge attend;
This Creta’s king, or Ajax shall fulfil,
Or wise Ulysses see performed our will;
Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain,
Achilles’ self conduct her o’er the main; 190
Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage,
The God propitiate, and the pest assuage.
At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied : --
=

O tyrant, arm’d with insolence and pride! .

Inglorious slave to interest, ever join’d 195
With fraud, unworthy of a royal mind!
What generous Greek, obedient to thy word,
Shall form an ambush, or shall lift the sword?
What cause have I to war at thy decree ?
The distant Trojans never injured me: 200
To Phthia’s realms no hostile troops they led,
Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed;
Far hence removed, the hoarse-resounding main,
And walls of rocks, secure my native reign,

Ver. 189.] He was misled by Dryden, into this perversion of

the original, which is neatly and fully expressed by Mr. Travers:
Then to the deck the fair Chryseis bring,
The charge of Ajax, or of Creta’s king ;
Be grave Ulysses, or be thou, the guide,
Fierce as thou art, unrivall’d in thy pride :
Aton’d by thee let Heaven propitious grow,
And the fell shaft of vengeance cease to glow.
Ver. 196.] This is not in the original ; one line of which is
feebly expanded by the translator into three. Thus Homer ;
O! clothed in impudence! of greedy soul! Ww.
BOOK I. HOMER’s ILIAD. 9]

Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace, 205

Rich in her fruits, and in her martial race.
Hither we sail’d, a voluntary throng,
To’ avenge a private, not a publick wrong:
What else to Troy the’ assembled nations draws,
But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother’s cause ? 210
Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve;
Disgraced and injured by the man we serve ?
And dar’st thou threat to snatch my prize away,
Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day ;
A prize as small, O tyrant! matched with thine, 215
As thy own actions if compared to mine.
Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey,
Though mine the sweat and danger of the day.
Some trivial presents to my ships I bear,
Or barren praises pay the wounds of war. 220
But. know, proud monarch, Pm thy slave no more ;
My fleet shall waft me to Thessalia’s shore.
Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain,
What spoils, what conquest shall Atrides gain ?

Ver. 215.] He has substituted this for a different thought in

his original, which several of the translators, on account of its
ambiguity, have agreed to omit: thus represented by Hobbes:
And, when the city Troy we shall have got,
Your share will great, mine little be, therein:
but 1 prefer Mr. Cowper's acceptation of the passage, with the
old commentators:
I never gain, what Trojan town soe’er
We ransack, half thy booty :
as Chapman also understood it. W.
Ver, 218.] Homer only says:
And yet my hands conduct the greatest share
Of furious war:
and verse 216 is the mere invention of our translator. W.
29, HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK 1.

To this the king: Fly, mighty warrior! fly, 225

Thy aid we need not, and thy threats defy.
There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight,
And Jove himself shall guard a monarch’s right.
Of all the kings (the Gods’ distinguish’d care)
To power superior none such hatred bear : 230
Strife and debate thy restless soul employ,
And wars and horrors are thy savage joy.
If thou hast strength, ’twas Heaven that strength be-
stow’d, . ᾿
For know, vain man! thy valour is from God.
Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away, 235
Rule thy own realms with arbitrary sway :
I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate -
Thy short-liv’'d friendship, and thy groundless hate.
Go, threat thy earth-born myrmidons ; but here
’Tis mine to threaten, Prince, and thine to fear. 240
ς

Ver. 2261 This fine addition to the original he formed upon

Dryden’s version:
We need not such a friend, nor fear we such a foe. W.
Ver. 229. Kings, the Gods’ distinguish’d care.] In the original
it is Διοτρεφεῖς, or nurst by Jove. Homer often uses to call his
kings by such epithets as Δνοίενεῖς, born of the Gods, or Διοτρεφεῖς,
bred by the Gods ; by which he points out to themselves the offices
they were ordained for; and to their people, the reverence that
should be paid them. These expressions are perfectly in the exalted
style of the eastern nations, and correspondent to those places of
holy scripture where they are called Gods, and the sons of the most
P.
High.
These epithets in the poets of antiquity were suggested by the
power of kings, and their opportunities of service to mankind ; re-
sembling in these respects the omnipotent givers ofgood things + Jeet,
δῶτηρες ἐάων: Od. Θ.. 328.

Homer says literally :

To me most odious of Jove-nurtur’d kings. W,
BOOK I. HOMER’s ILIAD. 23

Know, if the God the beauteous dame demand,

My bark shall waft her to her native land;
But then prepare, imperious Prince! prepare,
Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair:
Even in thy tent [ll seize the blooming prize, 245
Thy lov’d Briseis with the radiant eyes.
Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the hour
Thou stood’st a rival of imperial power;
And hence to all our host it shall be known,
That kings are subject to the Gods alone. 250
Achilles heard, with grief and rage opprest,
His heart swell’d high, and labour’d in his breast.
Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom rul’d,
Now fir’'d by wrath, and now by reason cool’d:
That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword, 255
Force thro’ the Greeks, and pierce their haughty Lord;
This whispers soft, his vengeance to control,
And calm the rising tempest of his soul,
Just as in anguish of suspense he stay’d,
While half unsheath’dappear’d the glittermg blade, 260

Ver. 249.] This couplet is an injudicious expansion of the

original, and in some measure an inconsistency ; as Achilles was a
king like himself. Ogilby is undignified, but represents his author
very faithfully. I shall give his couplet with a trivial correction:
That all from this example may beware
- Thus to dispute, and haughtily compare. W.
Ver. 251.] In this description the contrast between rage and
reason is engrafted on the original from Dryden.
Moreover, Homer says simply :
He spake, and grief arose to Peleus’ son :
but Dacier has: |
« Achille, pénétré de douleur et de rage.” Ww.
Ver. 260.] Homer says: “‘ He was drawing his sword.” W.
DA HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

Minerva swift descended from above,

Sent by the * sister and the wife of Jove;
(For both the princes claim’d her equal care)
Behind she stood, and by the golden hair
Achilles seiz’d; to him alone confest, 265
A sable cloud conceal’d her from the rest.
He sees, and sudden to the Goddess cries,
Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes—

Ver. 266.] This is an addition to his author from ἀμ

Just as in act he stood, zn clouds intwin’d W.
Ver. 268.] Known by the flames that sparkle from horeyes. |They
who carry on this allegory after the most minute manner, refer this
to the eyes of Achilles, as indeed we must, if we entirely destroy
the bodily appearance of Minerva. But what poet designing to
have his moral so open, would take pains to form it into a fable?
In the proper mythological sense, this passage should be referred to
Minerva ; according to an opinion of the ancients, who supposed
that the Gods had a peculiar light in their eyes. That Homer was
not ignorant in this opinion, appears from his use of it in other
places, as when in the third Iliad Helena by this means discovers
Venus: and that he meant it here, is particularly asserted by He-
liodorus, in the third book of his A&thiopick history. ‘ The Gods,
ἐς says he, are known in their apparitions to men by the fixed glare
“ of their eyes, or their gliding passage through air without mov-
‘« ing their feet ; these marks Homer has used from his knowledge
“of the A°gyptian learning, applying one to Pallas, and the
““ other to Neptune.” Madam Dacier has gone into the contrary
opinion, and blames Eustathius and others, without overthrowing
these authorities, or assigning any other reason, but that it was
not proper for Minerva’s eyes to sparkle, when her speech was
mild. ᾽ν
He follows here the generality of editors and translators.
Thus Maynwaring, for example:
He knew the goddess by her sparkling eyes :
but I prefer Tickell’s acceptation, which is mentioned also by
several of the old interpreters:
Sudden he turn’d, and started with surprise ;
Rage and revenge flash’d dreadful in his eyes. Ww:
* Juno.
ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 95

Descends Minerva in her guardian care,

A heavenly witness of the wrongs I bear 270
From Atreus’ son? Then let those eyes that view
The daring crime, behold the vengeance too.
Forbear! (the progeny of Jove replies)
To calm thy fury I forsake the skies:
Let great Achilles, to the Gods resign’d, 275
To reason yield the empire o’er his mind.
By awful Juno this command is given;
The king and you are both the care of Heaven.
The force of keen reproaches let him feel,
But sheath, obedient, thy revenging steel. 280
For I pronounce (and trust a heavenly power)
Thy injur’d honour has its fated hour,
When the proud monarch shall thy arms implore,
And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store.
Then let revenge no longer bear the sway, 285
Command thy passions, and the Gods obey.
To her Pelides. With regardful ear
"Tis just, O Goddess! I thy dictates hear.
Hard as it is, my vengeance I suppress :
Those who revere the Gods, the Gods will bless. 290
He said, observant of the blue-eyed maid ; |
Then in the sheath return’d the shining blade.
The Goddess swift to high Olympus flies,
And joins the sacred senate of the skies.
Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook, 295
Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke.

Ver. 273.] For these four verses, Homer has only,

I came to quell thy rage, wouldst thou obey,
From Heaven. W.
26 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.
O monster ! mix’d of insolence and fear, ἡ —

Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer!

When wert thou known in ambush’d fights to dare,
Or nobly face the horrid front of war? 300
Tis ours the chance of fighting fields to try,
Thine to look on, and bid the valiant die.
So much ’tis safer through the camp to go,
And rob a subject, than despoil a foe.

Ver. 298. Thou dog in forehead.] It has been one of the ob-
jections against the manners of Homer’s heroes, that they are abu-~
sive. Mons. de la Motte affirms in his discourse upon the Iliad,
that great men differ from the vulgar in their manner of expressing
their passion ; but certainly in violent passions. (such as those of
Achilles and Agamemnon) the great are as subject as any others to
these sallies; of which we have frequent examples both from his-
tory and experience. Plutarch, taking notice of this line, gives
it as a particular commendation of Homer, that, “ he constantly
ἐς affords us a fine lecture of morality in his reprehensions and prais~
“es, by referring them not to the goods of fortune or the body,
“but those of the mind, which are in our power, and for which
ἐξ we are blameable or praise-worthy. “Thus, says he, Agamem-
““ non is reproached for impudence and fear, Ajax for vain brag-
“‘ ging, Idomeneus for the love.of contention, and Ulysses does
*‘ not reprove even Thersites but as a babbler, though he had so
“ many personal deformities to object to him. In like manner
“ also the appellations and epithets with which they accost one an-
* other, are generally founded on some distinguishing qualification
“of merit, as wise Ulysses, Hector equal to Jove in wisdom,
« Achilles chief glory of the Greeks,” and the like. Plutarch of
reading Poets. r.
Ver. 299. In ambush’?d fights to Hore] Homer has magnified the
ambush as the boldest manner of fight. They went upon those
parties with a few men only, and generally the most daring of the
army, on occasions of the greatest hazard, where they were there-
fore more exposed than in a regular battle. Thus Idomeneus in
the thirteenth book, expressly tells Meriones, that the greatest
eourage appears in this way of service, each man being in a man-
ner singled out tothe proof of it, Eustathius, Ρ.
 ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. Q7

Scourge of thy people, violent and base ! 305

Sent in Jove’s anger on a slavish race,
Who lost to sense of generous freedom past,
Are tam’d to wrongs, or this had been thy last.
Now by this sacred sceptre, hear me swear,
Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear, 310
Which sever’d from the trunk (as I from thee)
On the bare mountains left its parent tree ;
This sceptre, form’d by temper’d steel to prove
An ensign of the delegates of Jove,
From whom the power of laws and justice springs .
(Tremendous oath ! inviolate to kings) 316
By this I swear, when bleeding Greece again
Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain.
When, flush’d with slaughter, Hector comes to spread
The purpled shore with mountains of the dead, 320

Ver. 309. Now by this sacred sceptre.] Spondanus in this place

blames Eustathius, for saying that Homer makes Achilles in his
passion swear by the first thing he meets with; and then assigns (as
from himself) two causes, which the other had mentioned so plainly
before, that it is a wonder they could be overlooked. ‘The sub-
stance of the whole passage in Eustathius is, that if we consider
the sceptre simply as wood, Achilles after the mannerof the an-
cients takes in his transport the first thing to swear by; but that
Homer himself has-in the process of the description assigned reasons
why it is proper for the occasion, which may be seen by consider-
ing it symbolically. First, That as the wood being cut from the
tree will never reunite and flourish, so neither should their amity
ever flourish again, after they were divided by this contention,—
Secondly, That a sceptre being the mark of power, and symbol of
justice, to swear by it might in i effect be construed swearing by the
God of power, and by justice itself; and accordingly it is spoken
of by Aristotle, 3.1. Polit. as a usual solemn oath of kings. Ps
Ver. 311. As Ifrom thee.] Anaddition to the original, alluded
ἄο in the translator's note. Ww.
6
28 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

Then shalt thou mourn the’ affront thy madness gave,

Fore’d to deplore, when impotent to save :
Then rage in bitterness of soul, to know
This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe.
He spoke ; and furious hurl’d against the ground
His sceptre starr’d with golden studs around. 996
Then sternly silent sat. With like disdain,
The raging king return’d his frowns again.
To calm their passions with the words of age,
Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage, 330
Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skill’d,
Words, sweet as honey, from his lips distill’d:
Two generations now had pass’d away,
Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway;

Ver. 319.] For this lofty couplet, Homer has merely,

When many fall by murderous Hector’s hands. Ww.
Ver. 521.] The original only says:
Then shalt thou fret thine inmost soul,
Griev’d that thou honour’dst not the best of Greeks. W.
Ver. 330.] This is alike contrary to nature and his original.
He had a good example in Ogilby:
Then started Nestor up. W.
Ver. 333. Two generations.| |The commentators make not
Nestor to have lived three hundred years (according to Ovid’s opi-
nion) ; they take the word γενεὰ not to signify a century or age of
the world, but a generation, or compass of time in which one set
of men flourish, which in the common computation is thirty years;
and accordingly is here translated as much the more probable.
From what Nestor says in his speech, Madam Dacier computes
the age he was of at the end of the Trojan war. The fight of the
Lapithe and Centaurs fell out fifty-five or fifty-six years before
the war of Troy: the quarrel of Agamemnon and Achilles hap-
pened in the tenth and last year of that war. It was then sixty-
five or sixty-six years since Nestor fought against the Centaurs ; he.
was capable at that time of giving counsel ; so that ene cannot ima~
ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 29

Two ages over his native realm he reign’d; 335

And now the’ example of the third remain’d.
All view’d with awe the venerable man‘
Who thus with mild benevolence began:
What shame, what woe is this to Greece! what joy
To Troy’s proud monarch, and the friends of Troy!
That adverse Gods commit to stern debate 341
The best, the bravest of the Grecian state.
Young as ye are, this youthful heat restrain,
Nor think your Nestor’s years and wisdom vain.
A Godlike race of heroes once I knew, 345
Such as no more these aged eyes shall view !
Lives there a chief to match Pirithcus’ fame,
Dryas the bold, or Ceneus’ deathless name ;
Theseus, endued with more than mortal might,
Or Polyphemus, like the Gods in fight ? 350
With these of old to toils of battle bred,
In early youth my hardy days I led;
Fired with the thirst which virtuous envy breeds,
And smit with love of honourable deeds.
Strongest of men, they pierced the mountain boar, ἢ
Ranged the wild desarts red with monsters’ gore, tL
And from their hills the shaggy Centaurs tore.

gine him to have been under twenty: from whence it will appear
that he was now almost arrived to the conclusion of his third age,
and about fourscore and five, or fourscore and six years of age. P.
Ver: 334.] This fine verse is our translator’s own invention:
and so verse 337. W,
Ver. 341.] This thought is not in Homer ; nor does it appear
whence our translator derived it. The rhymes are from Ogilby.

Ver. 353.] This couplet is supernumerary, and represents no

part of the original. Ww.
 30 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.
Yet these with soft, persuasive arts I swayd ;
When Nestor spoke, they listen’d and obey’d.
Ifin my youth, even these esteem’d me wise, 360
Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise.
Atrides seize not on the beauteous slave;
That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave:
Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride ;
Let kings be just, and sovereign power preside. 365
Thee the first honours of the war adorn, —
Like Gods in strength, and of a Goddess born ;
Him awful majesty exalts above
The powers of earth, and sceptred sons of Jove.
Let both unite with well-consenting mind, 370
So shall authority with strength be join’d.
Leave me, O king! to calm Achilles’ rage ;
Rule thou thyself, as more advanc’d in age.
Forbid it Gods! Achilles should be lost, S

The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our host. 375

This said, he ceas'd: the king of men replies: |
Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise.
But that imperious, that unconquer’d soul,
No laws can limit, no respect control.
Before his pride must his superiors fall, 380
_ His word the law, and he the Lord of all ?
‘Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself obey ?
What king can bear a rival in his sway ?
Grant that the Gods his matchless force have
given; 7
Has foul reproach a privilege from Heaven ? 385

Ver. $70.] This couplet is interpolated by our translator, W.

ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 31

Here on the monarch’s speech Achilles broke,

And furious, thus, and interrupting spoke.
Tyrant, I well deserved thy galling chain,
To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain,
Should I submit to each unjust decree: 390
Command thy vassals, but command not me.
Seize on Briseis, whom the Grecians doom’d
My prize of war, yet tamely see resum’d;
And seize secure; no more Achilles draws
His conquering sword in any woman’s cause. 395
The Gods command me to forgive the past ;
But let this first invasion be the last :

Ver. 394. No more. Achilles draws

Fis conquering sword in any woman's cause.|
When Achilles promises not to contest for Briseis, he expresses
it in a sharp despising air, I will not fight for the sake ofa woman :
by which he glances at Helena, and casts an oblique reflection
upon those commanders whom he is about to leave at the siege for
her cause. One may observe how well it is fancied of the poet, to
make one woman the ground of a quarrel which breaks an alliance
that was only formed upon account of another: and how much
the circumstance thus considered contributes to keep up the anger
of Achilles, for carrying on the poem beyond this dissolution of
the council. For (as he himself argues with Ulysses in the’ sixth
Iliad) it is as reasonable for him to retain his anger. upon the ac-
count of Briseis, as for the brothers with all Greece to carry on a
war upon the score of Helena. I do not know that any com-
mentator has taken notice of this sarcasm of Achilles, which I
think a very obvious one. | Ρ,
Ver. 396.} He diseuises and curtails his <p es whose sense
is sediately given by Travers:
This hand with thee all future strife shall waive,
Since Greece has robb’d me of the prize she gave.
What other spoils our sable ships contain,
From these let thy rapacious hand refrain:
so that the line before us is the supplement of our poet, and a sup-
plement not very suitable to the character of the speaker. Ww.
32 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

For know, thy blood, when next thou darest invade,

Shall stream in vengeance on my reeking blade.
At this they ceas’d ; the stern debate expir’d : 400
The chiefs in sullen majesty retir’d.
Achilles with Patroclus took his way,
Where near his tents his hollow vessels lay.
Mean time Atrides launch’d with numerous oars
A well-rigg’d ship for Chrysa’s sacred shores: 405
High on the deck was fair Chryseis plac’d,
And sage Ulysses with the conduct grac’d:
Safe in her sides the hecatomb they βίονἃ,
Then swiftly sailing, cut the liquid road.
The host to expiate, next the king prepares, 410
With pure lustrations, and with solemn prayers.
Wash’d by the briny wave, the pious train
Are cleans’d ; and cast the’ ablutions in the main.
Along’ the shore whole hecatombs were laid,
And bulls and goats to Phoebus’ altars paid. 415
The sable fumes in curling spires arise,
And waft their grateful odours to the skies.
The army thus in sacred rites engag’d,
Atrides still with deep resentment rag’d.
To wait his will two sacred heralds stood, 420
Talthybius and Eurybates the good.
Haste to the fierce Achilles’ tent (he cries)
Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize:
Submit he must; or if they will not part,
Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart. 425
The’ unwilling heralds act their lord’s com-
mands:
Pensive they walk along the barren sands:
1
ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 33
Arrived, the hero in his tent they find,
With gloomy aspect, on his arm reclin’d.
At awful distance long they silent stand, 430
Loth to advance, or speak their hard command ;
Decent confusion! This the godlike man
Perceived, and thus with accent mild began.
With leave and honour enter our abodes,
Ye sacred ministers of men and Gods! 435
I know your message ; by constraint you came;
Not you, but your imperious lord I blame.
Patroclus haste, the fair Briseis bring ;
Conduct my captive to the haughty king.
But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow, 440
Witness to Gods above, and men below!
But first, and loudest, to your prince declare,
That lawless tyrant whose commands you bear,
Unmoved as death Achilles shall remain,
Though prostrate Greece should bleed at every vein :
The raging chief in frantick passion lost, 446
Blind to himself, and useless to his host,

Ver. 427.] Homer says:

the shore of the barren sea. Ww.
Ver. 429.] He took this mean, extraneous thought and the
rhymes from Dryden. W.
Ver. 444.] In the original, Achilles suddenly discontinues his
speech without uttering a severe menace, which he had conceived,
from a reluctance to involve the rest of the Greeks in the disastrous
consequence of his resentment to their leader. Mr. Cowper alone
of ail the translators, has retained this propriety. W.
Ver. 446.] Homer says exactly,
he rages with destructive mind,
Nor knows to mark the future and the past. WwW.
VOL. I. D
34. HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

Unskill’d to judge the future by the past,

In blood and slaughter shall repent at last.
Patroclus ‘now the’ unwilling beauty brought ; 450
She, in soft sorrows, and in pensive thought,
Past silent, as the heralds held her hand,
And oft look’d back, slow-moving o’er the strand.
Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore;
But sad retiring to the sounding shore, 455
O’er the wild margin of the deep he hung,
That kindred deep, from whence his mother sprung:
There, bathed in tears of anger and disdain,
Thus loud lamented to the stormy main.
O parent Goddess! since in early bloom 460
Thy son must fall, by too severe a doom; ω».

Sure, to so short a race of glory born,

Great Jove in justice should this span adorn :
Honour and fame at least the thunderer owed,
And ill he pays the promise of a God ; 405

Ver. 451.] His author literally,

The woman with them went against her will:
but Dacier, like our poet: “ Elle les suivoit ἃ regret et dans une
““ nrofonde tristesse.” W.
Ver. 452.] This seems to have been taken from Tickell:
Sore sigh’d she, as the heralds took her hand;
And oft look’d back, slow-moving o’er the strand :
as that was formed from Dryden:
She wept, and often cast her eyes behind:
of which latter circumstance there is no trace in Homer. Ww.
Ver. 464. The thunderer owed.| ‘This alludes to a story which
Achilles tells the ambassadors of Agamemnon,[I]. ix. That he had
the choice of two fates: one less glorious at home, but blessed
with a very long life ; the other full of glory at Troy, but then he
was never toreturn. The alternative being thus proposed to him
 ΒΟΟΚΊ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 35

If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies,

Obscures my glories, and resumes my prize.
Far from the deep recesses of the main,
Where aged Ocean holds his watery reign,
The goddess-mother heard. 'The waves divide; 470
And like a mist she rose above the tide;
Beheld him mourning on the naked shores,
And thus the sorrows of his soul explores.
Why grieves my son? Thy anguish let me share,
Reveal the cause, and trust a parent’s care. AT 5
He deeply sighing said: To tell my woe,
Is but to mention what too well you know. .
From Thebé sacred to Apollo’s name,
(Aétion’s realm) our conquering army came,

(not from Jupiter but Thetis who revealed the decree) he chose
the latter, which he looks upon as his due, since he gives away
length of life for it: and accordingly when he complains to his
mother of the disgrace he lies under, it is in this manner he makes
a demand of honour.
Mons, de la Motte very judiciously oberves, that but for this
fore-knowledge of the certainty of his death at Troy, Achilles’s
character could have drawn but little esteem from the reader. A
hero of a vicious mind, blest only with a superiority of strength,
and invulnerable into the bargain, was not very proper to excite
admiration ; but Homer by this exquisite piece of art has made him
the greatest of heroes, who is still. pursuing glory in contempt of
death, and even under that tage generously devoting himself
in every action. Fr.
Ver. 478. From Thebé.| Homer. who opened his poem with
the action which immediately brought on Achilles’s anger, being
now to give an account of the same thing again, takes his rise more
backward in the story. Thus the reader is informed in what he
should know, without having been delayed from entering upon the
promised subject. This is the first attempt which we see made to-
wards the poetical method of narration, which differs from the "Yess,
historical, in that it does not proceed always directly in the line of
us
90 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.
With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils, 480
Whose just division crown’d the soldier’s toils;
But bright Chryseis, heavenly prize ! was led,
By vote selected, to the general’s bed.
The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gain
His beauteous daughter from the victor’s chain; 485

time, but sometimes relates things which have gone before, when a
more proper opportunity demands it, to make the narration more
informing or beautiful.
The foregoing remark is in regard only to the first six lines of
this speech. What follows is a rehearsal of the preceding action of
the poem, almost in the same words he had used in the opening it ;
and is one of those faults which has with most justice been objected
to our author. It is not to be denied but the account must be te-
dious, of what the reader had been just before informed; and
especially when we are given to understand it was no way neces-
sary, by what Achilles says at the beginning, that Thetis knew the
whole stery already. As to repeating the same lines, a practice
usual with Homer, it is not so excusable in this place as m those
where messages are delivered in the words they were received, or
the like ; it being unnatural to imagine, that the person whom the
poet introduces as actually speaking, should fall into the self-same
words that are used in the narration by the poet himself. Yet
Milton was so great an admirer and imitator of our author, as not
to have scrupled even this kind of repetition. The passage is at the
end of his tenth book, where Adam having declared he would pros-
trate himself before God in certain particular acts of humiliation,
those acts areimmediately after described by the poet in the same
words. ἘΣ
It seems to me, that the best account of these repetitions, so
much complained of, in Homer, may be derived from the de-
tached manner, in which his poems were scattered among the
Greeks. Separate parts were, doubtless, sung at festivals and
public entertainments ; and,. therefore, to complete the sense, a
necessity would frequently arise of fetching zntroductions and ex-
planatory verses from preceding parts of the poem. And the same
solution may be applied to the recurrence of many single verses at
the beginning of speeches throughout the poem. W.
 ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 37
The fleet he reach’d, and, lowly bending down,
Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown,
Entreating all: but chief implored for grace
The brother-kings of Atreus’ royal race :
The generous Greeks their jomt consent declare,
The priest to reverence, and release the fair; 491
Not so Atrides : he, with wonted pride,
The sire insulted, and his gifts denied :
The’ insulted sire (his God’s peculiar care)
To Pheebus pray’d, and Phoebus heard the prayer :
A dreadful plague ensues, the’ avenging darts 496
Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts.
_A prophet then, inspir’d by heaven arose,
And points the crime, and-thence derives the woes :
Myself the first the’ assembled chiefs incline 500
To’ avert the vengeance of the power divine ;
‘Then rising in his wrath, the monarch storm’d;
Incensed he threaten’d, and his threats perform’d;
The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent,
With offer’d gifts to make the God relent; 905
But now he seized Briseis’ heavenly charms,
And of my valour’s prize defrauds my arms ;
Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train;
And service, faith, and justice, plead in vain.
But, Goddess ! thou thy suppliant son attend, 510
To high Olympus’ shining court ascend,
Urge all the ties to former service owed,
And sue for vengeance to the thundering God.
Oft hast thou triumph’d in the glorious boast,
That thou stood’st forth of all the’ ethereal host, 515
38 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK 1.

When bold rebellion shook the realms above,

The’ undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove.
When the bright partner of his awful reign,
The warlike maid, and monarch of the main,
The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driven, 520
Durst threat with chains the’ omnipotence of heaven ;
Then, call’d by thee, the monster Titan came,
(Whom Gods Briareus, men Aigeon name)

Ver. 514. Oft hast thou triumph’d.] The persuasive, which τ—=
---
-

Achilles is here made to put into the mouth of Thetis, is most

artfully contrived to suit the present exigency. You, says he, must
intreat Jupiter to bring miseries on the Greeks, who are protected
by Juno, Neptune, and Minerva: put him therefore in mind that
those Deities were once his enemies, and adjure him by that ser-
vice you did him when those very powers would have bound him,
that he will now in his turn assist you against the endeavours they
will oppose to my wishes. Evustathius.
As for the story itself, some have thought (with whom is Ma-
dam Dacier) that there was some imperfect tradition of the fall of
the angels for their rebellion, which the Greeks had received by
commerce with /AXgypt: and thus they account the rebellion of
the Gods, the precipitation of Vulcan from heaven, and Jove’s
threatening the inferior Gods with Tartarus, but asso many hints
of scripture faintly imitated. But it seems not improbable that the
wars of the Gods, described by the poets, allude to the confusion
of the elements before they were brought into their natural order,
It is almost generally agreed that by Jupiter is meant the A&ther,
and by Juno the Air: the ancient philosophers supposed the ther
to be igneous, and by its kind influence upon the azr to be the cause
of all vegetation: therefore Homer says in the xivth Iliad, That
upon Jupiter’s embracing his wife, the earth put forth its plants.
Perhaps by Thetis’s assisting Jupiter, may be meant that the watery
element subsiding and taking its natural place, put an end to this
combat of the elements. Rs
Ver. 523. Whom Gods Briareus, men Aigeon name.) This
manner of making the Gods speak a language different from men-
(which is frequent in Homer) is a circumstance that as far as it
widens the distinction between divine and human natures, so far
 BOOK I. HOMER’s ILIAD. 39
Through wondering skies enormous stalk’d along;
Not *he that shakes the solid earth so strong: 525
With giant-pride at Jove’s high throne he stands,
And brandish’d round him all his hundred hands ;
The’ affrighted Gods confess’d their awful lord,
They dropt the fetters, trembled and ador’d.
This, Goddess, this to his remembrance call, 530
Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall ;
Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train,
To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main,
To heap the shores with copious death, and bring
The Greeks to know the curse of suchaking: 335
Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head
O’er all his wide dominion of the dead,
And mourn in blood, that e’er he durst disgrace
The boldest warrior of the Grecian race.
Unhappy son! (fair Thetis thus replies, 540
While tears celestial trickle from her eyes)
Why have I borne thee with a mother’s throes,
To fates averse, and nursed for future woes ?
So short a space the light of heaven to view!
So short a space! and fill’d with sorrow too! 545
might tend to heighten the reverence paid the Gods. But besides
this, as the difference is thus told in poetry, it is of use to the
poets themselves: for it appears like a kind of testimony of their
inspiration, or their converse with the Gods, and thereby gives a
majesty to their works. P;
Ver. 541. Celestial.] An interpolated thought from Par. Lost.
i. 620. WF.
. Tears, such as angels weep.
Ver. 543.] The first clause, not in Homer, is from Dryden:
Ah! wretched me! by fates averse, decreed
To bring thee forth with pain, with care to breed! W,
*..* Neptune.
40 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.
O might a parent’s careful wish prevail,
Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail ;
And thou, from camps remote, the danger shun,
Which now, alas! too nearly threats my son.
Yet (what I can) to move thy suit Pil go 550
To great Olympus crown’d with fleecy snow.
Mean time, secure within thy ships, from far
Behold the field, nor mingle in the war.
The sire of Gods and all the’ ethereal train,
On the warm limits of the farthest main, 555
Now mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace
The feasts of A‘thiopia’s blameless race :

Ver. 557. The feasts of Ethiopia's blameless race.}| The

ZEthiopians, says Diodorus, 1. 3. are said to be the inventors of
pomps, sacrifices, solemn meetings, and other honours paid to the
Gods. From hence arose their character of piety, which is here
celebrated by Homer, Among these there was an annual feast at
Diospolis, which Eustathius mentions, wherein they carried about
the statues of Jupiter and the other Gods, for twelve days, accord-
ing to their number: to which if we add the ancient custom of
setting meat before statues, it will appear a rite from which this
fable might easily arise. But it would be a great mistake to imagine
from this place, that Homer represents the Gods as eating and
drinking upon earth: a gross notion he was never guilty of, as ap-
pears from the fifth book, v. 340. Macrobius would have it, that
by Jupiter here is meant the sun, and that the number twelve hints
at the twelve sigus ; but whatever may be said in a critical defence
of this opinion; I believe the reader will be satisfied that Homer,
considered as a poet, would have his machinery understood upon
that system of the Gods which is properly Grecian.
One may take notice here, that it were to be wished some pas-
sage were found in any authentick author, that might tell us the
time of the year when the Ethiopians kept this festival at Dios-
polis: for from thence one might determine the precise season of
the year wherein the actions of the Iliad are represented to have
happened ; and perhaps by that means farther explain the beauty
and propriety of many passages in the poem, Fs
BOOK L HOMER’s ILIAD. 41

Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite,

Returning with the twelfth revolving light.
Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move 560
The high tribunal of immortal Jove.
The Goddess spoke: the rolling waves unclose ;
Then down the deep she plunged from whence she
rose,
And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast,
In wild resentment for the fair he lost. 565
In Chrysa’s port now sage Ulysses rode;
Beneath the deck the destined victims βίονἃ;
“The sails they furl’d, they lash’d the mast aside,
And dropt their anchors, and the pinnace tied.
Next on the shore their hecatomb they land, 570
Chryseis last descending on the strand.
Her, thus returning from the furrow’d main,
Ulysses led to Phoebus’ sacred fane ;
Where at his solemn altar, as the maid
He gave to Chryses, thus the hero said. 575
Hail reverend priest ! to Phoebus’ awful dome
A suppliant I from great Atrides come:
Unransomed here receive the spotless fair;
Accept the hecatombs the Greeks prepare ;
And may thy God who scatters darts around, 580
Atoned by sacrifice desist to wound.
At this, the sire embraced the maid again,
So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain.

Ver. 576.] Homer says only, O! Chryses. W.

Ver. 582.] Homer says,
With this he gave her to her father’s arms:
The sire with rapture takes his darling child. Ww.
42 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

Then near the altar of the darting king,

Disposed in rank their hecatomb they bring: 585
With water purify their hands, and take
The sacred offering of the salted cake;
While thus with arms devoutly raised in air,
And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayer.
God of the silver bow, thy ear incline, 590
Whose power encircles Cilla the divine ;
Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys,
And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguish’d rays!
If, fired to vengeance at thy priest’s request,
Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest; 595
Once more attend! avert the wasteful woe,
And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow.
So Chryses pray’d, Apollo heard his prayer :
And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare :
Between their horns the salted barley threw, 600
And with their heads to heaven the victims slew :
-

Ver. 600. The sacrifice.] If we consider this passage, it is not

made to shine in poetry: all that can be done isto give it numbers
and endeavour to set the particulars in a distinct view. Βαϊ τ we
take it in another light, and as a piece of learning, it is valuable
for being the most exact account of the ancient sacrifices any where
left us. There is first the purification, by washing of hands: se-
condly the offering up of prayers: thirdly the mola, or barley-cake
thrown upon the victim: fourthly the manner of killing it with the
head turned upwards to the celestial Gods (as they turned it down-
wards when they offered to the imfernals): fifthly their selecting
the thighs and fat for their Gods as the best of the sacrifice, and
the disposing about them pieces cut from every part for a repre-
sentation of the whole ; (hence the thighs, or μννρία, are frequently
used in Homer and the Greek poets for the whole victim :) sixthly
the libation of wine: seventhly consuming the thighs in the fire of
the altar: eighthly the sacrificers dressing and feasting on the rest,
with joy and hymns to the Gods,
BOOK f. HOMER’s ILIAD. 43

The limbs they sever from the’ inclosing hide;

The thighs, selected to the Gods, divide :
On these, in double cawls involved with art,
The choicest morsels lay from every part. 605
The priest himself before his altar stands,
And burns the offering with his holy hands,
Pours the black wine, and sees the flames aspire;
The youth with instruments surround the fire:
The thighs thus sacrificed, and entrails drest, 610
The’ assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest:
Then spread the tables, the repast prepare,
Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.
When now the rage of hunger was represt,
With pure libations they conclude the feast; 615
The youths with wine the copious goblets crown’d,
And pleased, dispense the flowing bowls around.
With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends,
The Peans lengthen’d till the sun descends :
The Greeks, restored, the grateful notes prolong;
Apollo listens, and approves the song. 621
"Twas night; the chiefs beside their vessel lie,
"Till rosy morn had purpled o’er the sky:
Then launch, and hoist the mast; indulgent gales,
Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails; 625
The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow,
The parted ocean foams and roars below :

Ver. 600] Is not in the original, which all the translators

have variously mistaken. Homer only says, that “ they brought
* forth the salt barley-cakes.”
Ver. 620.] A beautiful couplet, wrought from four words of
his author: “ His mind was delighted, as he listened.” W.
4.4. HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

Above the bounding billows swift they flew,

Till now the Grecian camp appear’d in view.
Far on the beach they haul their bark to land, 630
(The crooked keel divides the yellow sand)
Then part, where stretch’d along the winding bay
The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay.
But raging still, amidst his navy sat
The stern Achilles, stedfast in his hate; 635
Nor mix’d in combat, nor in council join’d ;
But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind :
In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll,
And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul.
Twelve days were past, and now the dawning
light 640
The Gods had summon’d to the’ Olympian height:
Jove first ascending from the watery bowers,
Leads the long order of ethereal powers.

Ver. 632.] For this couplet Homer has only,

They to the tents and ships themselves disperst. Ww.
Ver. 638.] Our poet has mistaken his original (as Tickell also),
misled, I presume, by Dryden. Ogilby, Travers, Chapman,
and Cowper, render the passage with fidelity. The version of the
former I will quote.
But sad Achilles, full of discontents,
Neither the council nor the field frequents;
But, at his fleet remaining, would not fight,
Though war and battles were his chief delight. Ww.
Ver. 642.] He was led into this mistake by Dryden’s version:
Jove at their head ascending from the sea:
whereas Homer had only said, that Jupiter was gone towards the
ecean on a visit to the Aithiopians, who are said in Odyssey, i. 22,
to be “ the remotest of mankind.” Ogilby is accurate, and not
contemptible in neatness:
And now, twelve days expired, the feasted Gods,
Attending Jove, return’d to their abodes.
ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 45

When like the morning’ mist in early day,

Rose from the flood the daughter of the sea; 645
And to the seats divine her flight addrest.
There, far apart, and high above the rest,
The thunderer sat; where old Olympus shrouds
His hundred heads in heaven, and props the clouds,
Suppliant the Goddess stood: one hand she plac’d 650
Beneath his beard, and one his knees embrac’d.
If eer, O father of the Gods! she said,
My words could please thee, or my actions aid;
Some marks of honour on my son bestow,
And pay in glory what in life you owe. 655
Fame is at least by heavenly promise due
To life so short, and now dishonour’d too.
Avenge this wrong, oh ever just and wise!
Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise;
"Till the proud king, and all the’ Achaian race, 660
Shall heap with honours him they now disgrace.
Thus Thetis spoke, but Jove in silence held
The sacred councils of his breast conceal’d.
Not so repulsed, the Goddess closer prest,
Still grasp’d his knees, and urged the dear request. 665
{-

The remainder of Pope’s version, to the speech of Thetis, is neither

executed with fidelity, nor all his accustomed elegance. The trans-
lations of Tickell and Travers united thus well exhibit the former
art :
: Twelve days were past, and now the’ ethereal train,
Jove at their head, to heaven return’d again:
When careful Thetis with the dawning light
Rose from the deep, and reached the’ Olympian height.
There, far apart, Saturnian Jove she found ;
High o’er the rest he view’d the prospect round.
3
 40 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

O sire of Gods and men! thy suppliant hear ;

Refuse, or grant ; for what has Jove to fear ὃ
Or oh! declare, of all the powers above,
Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove ?
She said, and sighing thus the God replies, 670
Who rolls the thunder o’er the vaulted skies.
What hast thou ask’d! Ah why should Jove en-
gage |
In foreign contests and domestic rage,
The Gods’ complaints, and Juno’s fierce alarms,
While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms ? 675
Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway
With jealous eyes thy close access survey;
But part in peace, secure thy prayer is sped:
Witness the sacred honours of our head,
The nod that ratifies the will divine, 680
The faithful, fix’d, irrevocable sign ;
This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows—
He spoke; and awful bends his sable brows;

Ver. 673.] These “ foreign contests,” and “ Gods’ com-

‘ plaints,” are gratuitous additions, which weaken the purport
of the passage. Ww.
Ver. 681. The faithful, fix’d, irrevocable sign.] There are
among men three things by which the efficacy of a promise may be
void ; the design not to perform it, the want of power to bring it
to pass, and the instability of our tempers; from all which Homer
saw that the divinity must be exempted, and therefore he describes
the nod, or ratification of Jupiter’s word, as faithful, in opposi-
tion to fraud ; sure of being performed, in opposition to weakness,
and irrevocable, in opposition to our repenting of a promise.—
Eustathius. P.
Ver. 683. He spoke ; and awful bends.] This description of the
majesty of Jupiter has something exceedingly grand and venerable. P

.Macrobius reports, that Phidias, having made his Olympian Jupiter,

 ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 47

Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod;

The stamp of Fate, and sanction of the God: 685
High heaven with trembling dread the signal took,
And all Olympus to the centre shook.
Swift to the seas profound the Goddess flies,
Jove to his starry mansion in the skies.
The shining synod of the’ immortals wait 690
The coming God, and from their thrones of state |
Arising silent, wrapt in holy fear,
Before the Majesty of Heaven appear.
Trembling they stand, while Jove assumes the
throne,
All, but the God’s imperious queen alone: 695
Late had she view’d the silver-footed dame,
And all her passions kindled into flame.
Say, artful manager of heaven (she cries)
Who now partakes the secrets of the skies ?
Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate, 700
In vain the partner of imperial state.
What favourite Goddess then those cares divides,
Which Jove in prudence from his consort hides ?
To this the Thunderer: Seek not thou to find
The sacred counsels of almighty mind: 705
Involved in darkness lies the great decree,
Nor can the depths of fate be pierced by thee.
What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know,
The first of Gods above, and men below;

which past for one of the greatest miracles of art, was asked from
what pattern he framed so divine a figure, and answered, it was
from that archetype which he found in these lines of Homer. P.
4
48 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK. f.

But thou, nor they, shall search the thoughts that

roll 710
Deep in the close recesses of my soul.
Full on the sire the Goddess of the skies
Roll’d the large orbs of her majestic eyes,
And thus return’d. Austere Saturnius, say,
From whence this wrath, or who controls thy
sway ? 715
Thy boundless will, for me, remains in force,
And all thy counsels take the destined course.
But ’tis for Greece I fear: for late was seen
In close consult the silver-footed queen.
Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny, 720 R
E
-πα

Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky.

What fatal favour has the Goddess won,
To grace her fierce, inexorable son ?
Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain,
And glut his vengeance with my people slain. 725
Then thus the God: Oh restless fate of pride,
That strives to learn what heaven resolves to hide!
Vain is the search, presumptuous and abhorr’d,
Anxious to thee, and odious to thy Lord !
Let this suffice, the’ immutable decree 730
No force can shake: what is, that ought to be.
Goddess submit, nor dare our will withstand,
But dread the power of this avenging hand;

Ver. 730.] Our author has misconceived, or inadequately re-

presented, his original ;which Hobbes and Chapman had properly
exhibited, but Mr. Cowper since with simplicity und neatness also :
And be it as thou sayest—I am well pleased
That so it should be. Ww.
ΒΟΟΚΊΙ. HOMER’s ILIAD. 49

The’ united strength of all the Gods above

In vain resists the’ omnipotence of Jove. 735
The Thunderer spoke, nor durst the queen reply;
A reverend horror silenced all the sky.
The feast disturbed, with sorrow Vulcan saw
His mother menaced, and the Gods in awe;
Peace at his heart, and pleasure his design, 740
Thus interposed the architect divine.
The wretched quarrels of the mortal state
Are far unworthy, Gods! of your debate:
Let men their days in senseless strife employ,
We, in eternal peace, and constant joy. γ4 δ
Thou, Goddess-mother, with our sire comply,
Nor break the sacred union of the sky :
Lest, rous’d to rage, he shake the blest abodes,
Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the Gods.
If you submit, the thunderer stands appeas’d; 750
The gracious power is willing to be pleas’d.
Thus Vulcan spoke; and rising with a bound,
The double bow] with sparkling Nectar crown’d,
Which held to Juno in a chearful way,
Goddess (he cried) be patient and obey. 755
Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend,
I can but grieve, unable to defend.
What God so daring in your aid to move,
Or lift his hand against the force of Jove ?

Ver. '736.] The translators have generally agreed in suppressing

a thought of the original, thus represented by Ogilby :
This said, she silent sate, fearing his frown,
And strove to keep her rising stomach down.
This is, doubtless, trivial and undignified ; but gives the genuine
force of the Greek in our vulgar idiom. W.
VOL. I. ΕΗ
50 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.

Once in your causeI felt his matchless might, 760

Hurl’d headlong downward from the’ ethereal height ;
Tost all the day in rapid circles round;
Nor till the sun descended, touch’d the ground :
Breathless I fell, in giddy motion lost;
The Sinthians raised me on the Lemnian coast. 765
He said, and to her hands the goblet heav’d,
Which, witha smile, the white-armed queen receiv’d.
Then to the rest he fill’d, and in his turn,
Each to his lips applied the nectar’d urn.
Vulcan with aukward grace his office plies, 770
And unextinguish’d laughter shakes the skies.
Thus the blest Gods the genial day prolong,
In feasts ambrosial, and celestial song.
Apollo tuned the lyre ; the Muses round
With voice alternate aid the silver sound. 775
Meantime the radiant sun, to mortal sight
Descending swift, rolled down the rapid light.
Then to their starry domes the Gods depart,
The shining ‘monuments of Vulcan’s art:

Ver. 760. Oncein your cause I felt his matchless might.| “ They
*‘ who search another vein of allegory for hidden knowledge in
«¢ natural philosophy, have considered Jupiter and Juno as heaven
“and the air, whose alliance is interrupted when the air is troubled
“above, but restored again whien it is cleared by heat, or Vulcan
“the God of heat. Him they call a divine artificer, from the
“ activity or general use of fire in working. They suppose him
“ἐ to be born in heaven, where philosophers say that element has
‘its proper place; and is thence derived to the earth, which is
* sionified by the fall of Vulcan ; that he fell in Lemnos, because
ςς that Island abounds with subterranean fires; and that he contract-
<¢ ed a lameness or imperfection by the fall; the fire not being so
“ pure and active below, but mixed and terrestrial.” Eustathius. P.
Ver. 778. Then to their starry domes.] The Astrologers assign
ΒΟΟΚ 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 51

Jove on his couch reclined his awful head, 780

And Juno slumber’d on the golden bed.
twelve houses to the planets, wherein they are said to have domi-
nion. Now because Homer tells us Vulcan built a mansion for
every God, the ancients write that he first gave occasion to this
doctrine. | Ῥ,

EK 2
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 THE

SECOND BOOK

OF THE

rege organ telban <a Ὁ 2

 THE ARGUMENT.

THE TRIAL OF THE ARMY AND CATALOGUE OF THE FORCES,

JUPITER, in pursuance of the request of Thetis, sends a

deceitful vision to Agamemnon, persuading him to lead the
army to batile ; in order to make the Greeks sensible of their
want of Achilles. The General, who is deluded with the
hopes of taking Troy without his assistance, but fears the army
was discouraged by his absence and the late plague, as well as
by the length of time, contrives to make trial of their disposi-
tion by a stratagem. He first communicates his design to the
Princes in council, that he would propose a return to the sol-
diers, and that they should put a stop to them if the proposal
was embraced. Then he assembles the whole host, and upon
moving for a return to Greece, they unanimously agree to it,
and run to prepare the ships. They are detained by the
management of Ulysses, who chastises the insolence of Ther-
sites. The Assembly is recalled, several speeches made on the
occasion, and at length the advice of Nestor followed, which
was to make a general muster of the troops, and to divide them
into their several nations, before they proceeded to battle.
This gives occasion to the Poet to enumerate all the forces of the
Greeks and Trojans, and ina large catalogue.
The time employed in this book consists not entirely of one
day. The scene les in the Grecian camp and upon the sea-
shore; toward the end it removes to Troy. P.
 THE

SECOND BOOK
OF THE

I LIA D.

Now pleasing sleep had seal’d each mortal eye,

Stretched in the tents the Grecian leaders lie,
The’ immortals slumbered on their thrones above;
All, but the ever-wakeful eyes of Jove.
To honour Thetis’ son he bends his care, 5
And plunge the Gréeks in all the woes of war:
Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,
And thus commands the vision of the night.
Fly hence, deluding dream ! and light as air,
To Agamemnon’s ample tent repair. 10
Bid him in arms draw forth the’ embattled train,
Lead all his Grecians to the dusty plain.

Ver. 2.] The original says nothing about the Greeks in parti«
cular. W.
Ver. 7.] He omits one circumstance, which Travers has briefly
and elegantly exhibited:
Resolv’d at last, a flattering dream he chose:
Swift at his call the dream officious rose, Ww,
56 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK 1.

Declare, even now ’tis given him to destroy

The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.
For now no more the Gods with Fate contend, 15
At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hangs o’er yon’ devoted wall,
And nodding Ilion waits the’ impending fall.
Swift as the word the vain Illusion fled,
Descends, and hovers o’er Atrides’ head; 20
Clothed in the figure of the Pylian sage,
Renown’d for wisdom, and revered for age;
Around his temples spreads his golden wing,
And thus the flattering dream deceives the king.
Canst thou, with all a monarch’s cares opprest, 25
Oh Atreus’ son! canst thou indulge thy rest ?
ΠῚ fits a chief who mighty nations guides,
Directs in council, and in war presides,
To whom its safety a whole people owes,
To waste long nights in indolent repose. 80

Ver. 15.1 His original only says, without any mention offate >
No more the’ Olympian Gods consult apart. Ww.
Ver. 19.] In this narration our poet has. omitted the cireum<
stances of the dream’s “course to the ships ; and ““ Agamemnon’s
peculiar respect for — The following speech is admirably
managed, W.
Ver. 20. Descends, and hovers o'er Atrides? head. ] The whole
action of the dream is beautifully natural, and agreeable to philo~
sophy. It perches on his head, to intimate that part to be the
seat of the soul: it is cireumfused about him, to express that total
possession of the sens¢s which fancy has during our sleep. It takes
the figure of the person who was dearest to Agamemnon ; as what-
ever we think of most, when awake, is the common object of our
dreams. And just at the instant of its vanishing, it Jeaves such an
impression that the voice seems still to sound in his ear. No de-
scription can be more exact or lively. Eustathius. Dacier. P.
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 57

Monarch awake! ’tis Jove’s command I bear,

Thou and thy glory claim his heavenly care.
In just array draw forth the’ embattled train,
Lead all thy Grecians to the dusty plain:
Even now, O king! ’tis given thee to destroy 35
The lofty towers of wide-extended ‘Troy.
For now no more the Gods with Fate contend,
At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hangs o’er yon’ devoted wall,
And nodding Ilion waits the’ impending fall. 40
Awake, but waking this advice approve,
And trust the vision that descends from Jove.

Ver. 33. Draw forth the’ embattled train, ὅς. The dream
here repeats the message of Jupiter in the same terms that he re-
ceived it. It is no less than the father of Gods and men who gives
the order, and to alter a word were presumption. Homer constantly
makes his envoys observe this practice as a mark of decency and
respect. Madam Dacier and others have applauded this in general,
and asked by what authority an embassador could alter the terms of
his commission, since he is not greater or wiser than the person who
gave the charge? But this is not always the case in our author, who
not only makes use of this conduct with respect to the orders of a
higher power, but in regard to equals also; as when one Goddess
desires another to represent such an affair, and she immediately takes
the words from her mouth and repeats them, of which we have an
instance in this book. Some objection too may be raised in this
manner, when commissions are given in the utmost haste (in a
battle or the like) wpon sudden emergencies, where it seems not
very natural to suppose a man has time to get so many words by
heart as he is made to repeat exactly. In the present instance, the
repetition is certainly graceful, though Zenodotus thought it not
so the third time, when Agamemnon tells his dream to the coun-~
cil. Ido not pretend to decide upon the point : for though the
reverence of the repetition seemed less needful,in that place, than
when it was delivered immediately from Jupiter; yet (as Eustathius
observes) it was necessary for the assembly to know the circums
δ8 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It.
The phantom said ; then vanished from his sight,
Resolves to air, and mixes with the night.
A thousand schemes the monarch’s mind employ ; 45
Elate in thought, he sacks untaken Troy:
Vain as he was, and to the future blind,
Nor saw what Jove and secret Fate designed;
What mighty toils to either host remain,
What scenes of grief, and numbers of the slain! 50
Eager he rises, and in fancy hears
The voice celestial murmuring in his ears.
First on his limbs a slender vest he drew,
Around him next the regal mantle threw,
The’ embroider’d sandals on his feet were tied; 55
The starry faulchion glittered at his side;
And last his arm the massy sceptre loads,
Unstain’d, immortal, and the gift of Gods.
Now rosy morn ascends the court of Jove,
Lifts up her light, and opens day above. 60
The king dispatch’d his heralds with commands
To range the camp and summon all the bands:
The gathering hosts the monarch’s word obey;
While to the fleet Atrides bends his way.
In his black ship the Pylian prince he found; 65
There calls a senate of the peers around:
The’ assembly placed, the king of men exprest
The counsels labouring in his artful breast.

stances of this dream, that the truth of the relation might be un-
suspected. P.
Ver. 55. Homer says only,
and round
His shoulders east the silver-studded sword. W.
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 59
Friends and confederates! with attentive ear
Receive my words, and credit what you hear. 70
Late as I slumber’d in the shades of night,
A dream divine appear’d before my sight;
Whose visionary form like Nestor came,
The same in habit, and in mien the same.
The heavenly phantom hover’d o’er my head, « 75
And, Dost thou sleep, oh Atreus’ son? (he said)
Ill fits a chief who mighty nations guides,
Directs in council, and in war presides,
To whom its safety a whole people owes,
To waste long nights in indolent repose. 80
Monarch awake: ’tis Jove’s command I bear,
Thou and thy glory claim his heavenly care.
In just array draw forth the’ embattled train,
And lead the Grecians to the dusty plain :
Even now, O king! ’tis given thee to destroy 85
The lofty towers of wide-extended Troy.
For now no more the Gods with Fate contend,
At Juno’s suit the heavenly factions end. |
Destruction hangs o’er yon’ devoted wall,
And nodding Ilion waits the’ impending fall. 90
This hear observant, and the Gods obey!
The vision spoke, and past in air away.
Now, valiant chiefs, since heaven itself alarms,
Unite, and rouse the sons of Greece to arms:
But first, with caution, try what yet they dare, 95
Worn with nine years of unsuccessful war.

Ver. 92.] He might easily have included the whole sense of

his original :
The vision spake, and fled with sleep away. Ww.
60 HOMER’s ILIAD. Book it:
To move the troops to measure back the main, ἡ
Be mine; and yours the province to detain.
He spoke, and sat; when Nestor rising said,
(Nestor, whom Pylos’ sandy realms obey’d) 100
Princes of Greece, your faithful ears incline,
Nor doubt the vision of the powers divine;
Sent by great Jove to him who rules the host,
Forbid it, heaven! this warning should be lost!
Then let us haste, obey the God’s alarms, 105
And join to rouse the sons of Greece to arms.
Thus spoke the sage: the kings without delay
Dissolve the council, and their chief obey:
The sceptred rulers lead; the following host
Pour’d forth by thousands, darkens all the coast. 110
As from some rocky cleft the shepherd sees
Clustering in heaps on heaps the driving bees,
Rolling, and blackening, swarms succeeding swarms,
With deeper murmurs and more hoarse alarms;
Dusky they spread, a close embodied crowd, 115
And o’er the vale descends the living cloud—
So, from the tents and ships, a lengthening train
Spreads all the beach, and wide o’ershades the plain:
Along the region runs a deafening sound;
Beneath their footsteps groans the trembling ground.

Ver. 96.] This line is a supplement from the translator. W.

Ver. 101.] This speech is executed with great skill, but not
in sufficient conformity to his author. Thus Travers, with more
fidelity : |
Then Nestor, who in sandy Pylos reign’d:
Say, friends and heroes! can the dream be feign’dὃ
No voice, but this, had influence gain’d on me:
’Tis sacred truth, Atrides! speaks in thee. > ΥΝ.
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 61

Fame flies before, the messenger of Jove, 121

And shining soars, and claps her wings above.
Nine sacred heralds now, proclaiming loud
The monarch’s will, suspend the listening crowd.
Soon as the throngs in order ranged appear, 125
And fainter murmurs died upon the ear,
The king of kings his awful figure rais’d ;
High in his hand the golden sceptre blaz’d:
The golden sceptre, of celestial frame,
By Vulcan form’d, from Jove to Hermes came: 190
To Pelops he the’ immortal gift resign’d ;
The’ immortal gift great Pelops left behind,
In Atreus’ hand, which not with Atreus ends,
To rich Thyestes next the prize descends ;
And now the mark of Agamemnon’s reign, 135
Subjects all Argos, and controls the main.
On this bright sceptre now the king reclin’d,
And artful thus pronounced the speech design’d:
Ye sons of Mars! partake your leader’s care,
Heroes of Greece, and brothers of the war! 140
Of partial Jove with justice I complain,
And heavenly oracles believed in vain.
A safe return was promised to our toils,
Renown’'d, triumphant, and enriched with spoils.
Now shameful flight alone can save the host, 145
Our blood, our treasure, and our glory lost.

V. 121. Our poet here indulges his invention without restraint ;

for his original says simply, with no such embellishments,
——- among them Rumour glow’d,
Exciting to depart, Jove’s messenger. W.
Ver. 136.] Rather, as more expressive of his author,
‘All Argos sways, and islands of the main, W.
3
62 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It.
So Jove decrees, resistless Lord of all!
At whose command whole empires rise or fall:
He shakes the feeble props of human trust,
And towns and armies humbles to the dust. 150
What shame to Greece a fruitless war to wage,
Oh lasting shame in every future age !
Once great in arms, the common scorn we grow,
Repulsed and baffled by a feeble foe.
So small their number, that if wars were ceas’d, 155
And Greece triumphant held a general feast,
All rank’d by tens, whole decads when they dine
Must want a Trojan slave to pour the wine.
But other forces have our hopes o’erthrown,
And Troy prevails by armies not her own. 160

Ver. 155. So small their number, &c.] This part has a low air
in comparison with the rest of the speech. Scaliger calls it taber-
nariam orationem : but it is well observed by Madam Dacier, that
the image Agamemnon here gives of the Trojans, does not only
render their numbers contemptible in comparison of the Greeks,
but their persons too: for it makes them appear but as a few vile
slaves fit only to serve them with wine. To which we may add,
that it affords a prospect to his soldiers of their future state and
triumph after the conquest of their enemies.
This passage gives me occasion to animadvert upon ἃ computa-
tion of the number of the Trojans, which the learned Angelus
Politian has offered at in his preface to Homer. He thinks they
were fifty-thousand without the auxiliaries, from the conclusion
of the eighth Iliad, where it is said there were a thousand Trojan
fires and fifty men attending each of them. But that the auxiliaries
are to be admitted into that number, appears plainly from this
place: Agamemnon expressly distinguishes the native Trojans from
the aids, and reckons but one to ten Grecians, at which estimate
there could not be above ten thousand Trojans. See the notes on
the catalogue. κα
This is not exact. Chapman’s homely version has given the
true sense of Homer:
ΒΟΟΚ II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 63

Now nine long years of mighty Jove are run,

Since first the labours of this war begun:
Our cordage torn, decay’d our vessels lie,
And scarce ensure the wretched power to fly.
Haste then, for ever leave the Trojan wall! 165
Our weeping wives, our tender children call:
Love, duty, safety, summon us away,
*Tis Nature’s voice, and Nature we obey.
Our shatter’d barks may yet transport us o’er,
Safe and inglorious, to our native shore. 170
Fly, Grecians, fly, your sails and oars employ,
And dream no more of heaven-defended Troy.
His deep design unknown, the hosts approve
Atrides’ speech.. The mighty numbers move.
So roll the billows to the’ Icarian shore, 175
From east and south when winds begin to roar,
Burst their dark mansions in the clouds, and sweep
The whitening surface of the ruffled deep.
And as on corn when western gusts descend,
Before the blast the lofty harvests bend: 180

Yet should our foes and we

Strike truce, and number both our powers. --- W.
Ver. 168.] This is substituted for ideas in the original thus
represented by Travers:
Unfinish’d here the work of conquest lies ;
Through all our toils the’ abortive glory dies.
Ver. 175. So roll the billows, ὅς. One may take notice that
Homer in these two similitudes has judiciously made choice of the
two most wavering and inconstant things in nature, to compare
with the multitude: the waves and ears of corn. The first allude
to the noise and tumult of the people, in the breaking and rolling
of the billows; the second to their taking the same course, like
corn bending one way; and both to the easiness with which they
are moved by every breath. e.
1
64 HOMER’s ILIAD. _ BOOK It.
Thus o’er the field the moving host appears,
With nodding plumes and groves of waving spears.
The gathering murmur spreads, their trampling feet
Beat the loose sands, and thicken to the fleet.
With long-resounding cries they urge the train 185
To fit the ships, and launch into the main.
They toil, they sweat, thick clouds of dust arise,
The doubling clamours echo to the skies.
Even then the Greeks had left the hostile plain,
And Fate decreed the fall of Troy in vain; 190
But Jove’s imperial Queen their flight survey’d,
And sighing thus bespoke the blue-eyed maid.
Shall then the Grecians fly ! Oh dire disgrace!
And leave unpunish’d this perfidious race ?
Shall Troy, shall Priam, and the’ adulterous spouse,
In peace enjoy the fruits of broken vows ? 196
And bravest chiefs, in Helen’s quarrel slain,
Lie unrevenged on yon. detested plain ? —
No: let my Greeks, unmov'd by vain alarms,
Once more refulgent shine in brazen arms. 200
Haste, goddess, haste! the flying host detain,
Nor let one sail be hoistedon the main.
Pallas obeys, and from Olympus’ height
Swift to the ships precipitates her flight ;
Ulysses, first in publick cares, she found, 205
For prudent counsel like the Gods renown’d:

Ver. 193.] This is not Homer. Ogilby is generally more

faithful:
Ah! thou unconquer’d daughter of great Jove,
Shall thus the Greeks their tedious siege remove,
Through billows flying to their native coast?
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 65

Oppress’d with generous grief the hero stood,

Nor drew his sable vessels to the flood.
And is it thus, divine Laértes’ son !
Thus fly the Greeks (the martial maid begun) 210
Thus to their country bear their own disgrace,
And fame eternal leave to Priam’s race ?
Shall beauteous Helen still remain unfreed,
Still unrevenged, a thousand heroes bleed ?
Haste, generous Ithacus! prevent the shame, 215
Recall your armies, and your chiefs reclaim.
Your own resistless eloquence employ,
And to the’ Immortals trust the fall of Troy.
The voice divine confess’d the warlike maid,
Ulysses heard, nor uninspired obey’d : 220
Then meeting first Atrides, from his hand
Received the’ imperial sceptre of command.
Thus graced, attention and respect to gain,
He runs, he flies through all the Grecian train;
Each prince of name, or chief in arms approv’d, 225
He fired with praise, or with persuasion movd.
Warriors like you, with strength and wisdom
blest, a
By brave examples should confirm the rest.
The monarch’s will not yet reveal’d appears;
He tries our courage, but resents our fears. 230

Ver. 220.] Our poet, by a strange oversight, I presume, and

not intentionally, has passed over two verses of the original; thus
delineated, not contemptibly for the time, by faithful Ogilby :
The virgin’s heavenly voice Ulysses knew,
And, straight obeying, off his mantle threw,
Which up Eurybates his herald took,
Who, still attending, ne’er his charge forsook. W.
VOL. I. F
 66 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It.

The’ unwary Greeks his fury may provoke ;

Not thus the king in secret council spoke.
Jove loves our chief, from Jove his honour springs,
Beware! for dreadful is the wrath of kings.
But if a clamorous vile Plebeian rose, 235
Him with reproof he check’d, or tamed with blows.
Be still, thou slave, and to thy betters yield;
Unknown alike in council and in field !
Ye Gods, what dastards would our host command!
Swept to the war, the lumber of a land. 240
Be silent, wretch, and think not here allow’d
That worst of tyrants, an usurping crowd.
To one sole monarch Jove commits the sway;
His are the laws, and him let all obey.
With words like these the troops Ulysses rul’d, 245
The loudest silenced, and the fiercest cool’d.
Back to the assembly roll the thronging train,
Desert the ships, and pour upon the plain.

Ver. 243. To one sole monarch.| Those persons are under ἃ

mistake who would make this sentence a praise of absolute monarchy.
Homer speaks it only with regard to a general of an army during
the time of his commission. Nor is Agamemnon styled king of
kings in any other sense, than as the rest of the princes had given
him the supreme authority over them in the siege. Aristotle de-
fines a king, Leader of the war, Judge of controversies, and Pre-
sident of the ceremonies of the Gods. That he had the principal
care of religious rites, appears from many places in Homer ; and
that his power was no where absolute but in war; for we find
Agamemnon insulted in the council, but in the army threatening
deserters with death. He was under an obligation to preserve the
privileges of his country, pursuant to which kings are called by our
- author, the dispensers or managers of justice. And Dionysius of
Halicarnassus acquaints us, that the old Grecian Kings, whether
hereditary or elective,, had a council of their chief men, as Homer
nd the most.ancient poets testify ;nor was it (he adds) in those
BOOK IL. HOMER’s ILIAD. 67

Murmuring they move, as when old ocean roars,

And heaves huge surges to the trembling shores : 250
The groaning banks are burst with bellowing sound,
The rocks remurmur, and the deeps rebound.
At length the tumult sinks, the noises cease,
And a still silence lulls the camp to peace.
Thersites only clamour’d in the throng, 255
Loquacious, loud, and turbulent of tongue:
Awed by no shame, by no respect control’d,
In scandal busy, in reproaches bold :

times as in ours, when kings have a full liberty to do whatever they

please. Dion. Hal. lib. ἃ. Hist. P,
Ver. 255. Thersites only.| The ancients have ascribed to Homer
the first sketch of satyric or comic poetry, of which sort was his
poem called Margites, as Aristotle reports. Though that piece be
lost, this character of Thersites may give us a taste of his vein in
that kind. But whether ludicrous descriptions ought to have place
in the epic poem, has been justly questioned: neither Virgil nor
any of the most approved ancients have thought fit to admit them
into their compositions of that nature ; nor any of the best moderns
except Milton, whose fondness for Homer might be the reason of
it. However this is in its kind a very masterly part, and our author
has shown great judgment in the particulars he has chosen to com-
pose the picture of a pernicious creature of wit ; the chief of which
are a desire of promoting laughter at any rate, and a contempt of
his superiors. And he sums up the whole very strongly, by saying
that Thersites hated Achilles and Ulysses; in which, as Plutarch
has remarked in his treatise of envy and hatred, he makes it the
utmost completion of: an ill character to bear a-malevolence to the
best men. What is farther observable is, that Thersites is never
heard of after this his first appearance: such a scandalous character
is to be taken no more notice of, than just to show that it is des-
pised. Homer has observed the same conduct with regard to the
most deformed and most beautiful person of his poem: for Nireus is
thus mentioned once and no more throughout the Iliad. He places
a worthless beauty and an ill-natured wit upon the same foot, and
shows that the gifts of the body without those of the mind are not
more despicable, than those of the mind itself without virtue. P.
F 2
68 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It.

With witty malice studious to defame;

Scorn all his joy, and laughter all his aim. 260
But chief he gloried with licentious style
To lash the great, and monarchs to revile.
His figure such as might his soul proclaim ;
One eye was blinking, and one leg was lame: |
His mountain-shoulders half his breast o’erspread, 265
Thin hairs bestrew’d his long mis-shapen head.
Spleen to mankind his envious heart possest,
And much he hated all, but most the best.
Ulysses or Achilles still his theme :
But royal scandal his delight supreme. 270
Long had he lived the scorn of every Greek,
Vex’d when he spoke, yet still they heard him
speak.
Sharp was his voice; which in the shrillest tone,
Thus with injurious taunts attack’d the throne.
Amidst the glories of so bright a reign, 275
What moves the great Atrides to complain ?
*Tis thine whate’er the warrior’s breast inflames,
The golden spoil, and thine the lovely dames.
With all the wealth our wars and blood bestow,
Thy tents are crowded, and thy chests o’erflow. 280
Thus at full ease in heaps of riches roll’d,
What grieves the monarch? Is it thirst of gold?
Say, shall we march with our unconquer’d powers,
(The Greeks and I) to Ilion’s hostile towers,
And bring the race of royal bastards here, 285
For Troy to ransom at a price too dear?
But safer plunder thy own host supplies;
Say, would’st thou seize some valiant leader’s prize ?
BOOK II. HOMER’S ILIAD. 69

Or, if thy heart to generous love be led,

Some captive fair, to bless thy kingly bed ? 290
Whate’er our master craves, submit we must,
Plagued with his pride, or punish’d for his lust.
Oh women of Achaia! men no more!
Hence let us fly, and let him waste his store
In loves and pleasures on the Phrygian shore. 295 J
We may be wanted on some busy day,
When Hector comes: so great Achilles may :
From him he forced the prize we jointly gave,
From him, the fierce, the fearless, and the brave:
And durst he, as he ought, resent that wrong, 300
This mighty tyrant were no tyrant long.
Fierce from his seat at this Ulysses springs,
In generous vengeance of the king of kings ;
With indignation sparkling in his eyes,
He views the wretch, and sternly thus replies. 305
Peace, factious monster, born to vex the state,
With wrangling talents, form’d for foul debate:
Curb that impetuous tongue, nor rashly vain
And singly mad, asperse the sovereign reign.
Have we not known thee, slave! of all our host, 310
The man who acts the least, upbraids the most ?
Think not the Greeks to shameful flight to bring,
Nor let those lips profane the name of king.

Ver. 291.] He disguises his author. Thus Travers, with more

fidelity:
Is this the care that kings their warriors owe,
To feast their riot by the public woe? Ww.
Ver. 298.] He might easily have kept up to the spirit of hig
original:
From him more fierce, more fearless, and more brave, W.
 70 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK II.

For our return we trust the heavenly powers;

Be that their care; to fight like men be ours. 315
But grant the host with wealth the general load,
Except detraction, what has thou bestow’d ὃ
Suppose some hero should his spoils resign,
Art thou that hero, could those spoils be thine ?
Gods! let me perish on this hateful shore, 320
And let these eyes behold my son no more,
If, on thy next offence, this hand forbear
To strip those arms thou ill deservest to wear,
Expel the council where our princes meet,
And send thee scourged, and howling through the fleet.
He said, and cowering as the dastard bends, 326
The weighty sceptre on his back descends:
On the round bunch the bloody tumours rise ;
The tears spring starting from his haggard eyes :
Trembling he sat, and shrunk in abject fears, 9390
_ From his vile visage wiped the scalding tears.
While to his neighbour each express’d his thought:
Ye Gods ! what wonders has Ulysses wrought !

Ver. 321.] Travers, more faithfully, but ambiguously :

Nor grant my warlike son to call me sire.
And Homer says nothing about arms. Hear faithful Ogilby:
Let not Ulysses’ head these shoulders bear,
Nor yet Telemachus be styl’d my heir,
If thee I naked strip not, strip and whip,
And through the army lash unto thy ship. —
I agree with Mr. Cowper's version :
—————And may my son
Prove the begotten of another’s sire:
and so the author of the travesty :
Or in his stead behold another,
Got by some rascal on his mother. Ww.
Ver. 332.] Our poet has entirely neglected a beautiful and
 BOOK Il. HOMER’s ILIAD. 71

What fruits his conduct and his courage yield!

Great in the council, glorious in the field. 335
Generous he rises in the crown’s defence,
To curb the factious tongue of insolence.
Such just examples on offenders shown,
Sedition silence, and assert the throne.
"Twas thus the general voice the hero prais’d,
Who rising, high the’ imperial sceptre raisd: 341
The blue-eyed Pallas, his celestial friend,
(In form a herald) bade the crowds attend.
The’ expecting crowds in still attention hung,
To hear the wisdom of his heavenly tongue. B45
Then deeply thoughtful, pausing ere he spoke,
His silence thus the prudent hero broke.
Unhappy monarch ! whom the Grecian race
With shame deserting, heap with vile disgrace,
Not such at Argos was their generous vow, 350
Once all their voice, but ah! forgotten now :
_ Ne’er to return, was then the common cry,
’Till Troy’s proud structures should in ashes lie.
Behold them weeping for their native shore!
What could their wives or helpless children
more ? 355

descriptive verse of his original, thus represented with great neat-

ness by Mr. Cowper:
It was no time
For mirth, yet mirth illumined every face:
And laughing thus they spake. W.
Ver. 338.] This is elegant, but weakens the original by losing
a particular application in a general maxim. Mr. Cowper is, asat
all times, faithful:
The valiant talker shall not soon, we judge,
Take liberties with royal names again. Ww.
72 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It.
What heart but melts to leave the tender train,
And, one short month, endure the wintry main ?
Few leagues removed, we wish our peaceful seat, "
When the ship tosses, and the tempests beat:
Then well may this long stay provoke their tears,
The tedious length of nine revolving years. 361
Not for their grief the Grecian host I blame ;
But vanquish’d! baffled! oh eternal shame!
Expect the time to Troy’s destruction given,
And try the faith of Calchas and of heaven. 365
What past at Aulis, Greece can witness bear,
And all who live to breathe this Phrygian air.
Beside a fountain’s sacred brink we rais’d
Our verdant altars, and the victims blaz’d;
(T'was where the plane-tree spread its shades around)
The altars heav'd; and from the crumbling ground 371
A mighty dragon shot, of dire portent ;
From Jove himself the dreadful sign was sent.

Ver. 360.] Homer has nothing about ¢ears, but about weari~
ness and veration. ‘Thus Mr. Travers:
Then well may Greece require her native soil,
Spent with nine years of unsuccessful toil. W.
Ver. 363.] His original says exactly,
and yet ’tis base
So long to stay, and empty to return. W.
Ver. 366.] He drops some thoughts of his original, thus mn
served by Travers:
How, when at Aulis, big with future woes _
ne To Priam’s race, combin’d his Grecian foes. W.
‘ Ver. 370.] Hobbes and Cowper have expressed all their author:
of whom the latter thus elegantly:
We beside the fount
With perfect hecatombs the Gods adored
Beneath the plane-tree, from whose root a stream
Ran crystal-clear. , “υ ΑΝ
5
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 73

Straight to the tree his sanguine spires he roll’d,

And curl’d around in many a winding’ fold. 375
The topmast branch a mother-bird possest;
Eight callow infants fill’d the mossy nest;
Herself the ninth ; the serpent as he hung
Stretch’d his black jaws, and crash’d the crying
young;
While hovering near, with miserable moan, 380
The drooping mother wail’d her children gone.
The mother last, as round the nest she flew,
Seized by the beating wing, the monster slew:
Nor long survived; to marble turn’d he stands °
A lasting prodigy on Aulis’ sands. 385
Such was the will of Jove; and hence we dare
Trust in his omen, and support the war.
For while around we gaze with wondering eyes,
And trembling sought the powers with sacrifice,
Full of his God, the reverend Calchas cried, 390
Ye Grecian warriors! lay your fears aside,
This wonderous signal Jove himself displays,
Of long, long labours, but eternal praise. |
As many birds as by the snake were slain,
So many years the toils of Greece remain ; 395
But wait the tenth, for Ilion’s fall decreed :
Thus spoke the prophet, thus the Fates succeed.

Ver. 386 ἃ 387.] Two unnecessary verses of his own inven«

tion. Ww.
Ver. 394.] The simplicity of the original is lost in the brevity
of the translation. Mr. Cowper, as Chapman before him, has
succeeded much better :
Even as this serpent in your sight devour’d
Eight youngling sparrows, with their dam, the ninth;
So we nine years must war on yonder plain. W.
74 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Il.

Obey, ye Grecians! with submission wait,

Nor let your flight avert the Trojan fate. 399
He said : the shores with loud applauses sound,
The hollow ships each deafening shout rebound.
o

Then Nestor thus—These vain debates forbear,

Ye talk like children, not like heroes dare.
Where now are all your high resolves at last? 404
Your leagues concluded, your engagements past ?
γον ἃ with libations and with victims then.
Now vanish'd like their smoke: the faith of men!
While useless words consume the’ unactive hours,
No wonder Troy so long resists our powers.
Rise, great Atrides! and with courage sway; 410
We march to war if thou direct the way.
But leave the few that dare resist thy laws,
The mean deserters of the Grecian cause,
To grudge the conquests mighty Jove prepares,
And view, with envy, our successful wars. 415
On that great day when first the martial train,
Big with the fate of Ilion, plow’d the main,
Jove, on the right, a prosperous signal sent,
And thunder rolling shook the firmament.
Encourag’d hence, maintain the glorious strife, 420 |
*Till every soldier grasp a Phrygian wife.
"Till Helen’s woes at full reveng’d appear,
And Troy’s proud matrons render tear for tear.
Before that day, if any Greek invite
His country’s troops to base, inglorious flight; 425

Ver. 425.] Mr. Cowper has best preserved the spirit of his author.
What soldier languishes and sighs
To leave us? Let him dare to lay his hand
On his own vessel, and he dies. the first. W.
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 75

Stand forth that Greek! and hoist his sail to fly,

And die the dastard first, who dreads to die.
But now, O monarch! all thy chiefs advise :
Nor what they offer, thou thyself despise.
Among those counsels, let not mine be vain; 430
In tribes and nations to divide thy train :
His separate troops let every leader call,
Fach strengthen each, and all encourage all.
What chief, or soldier, of the numerous band,
Or bravely fights, or ill obeys command, 4585
When thus distinct they war, shall soon be known,
And what the cause of Ilion not o’erthrown;
If fate resists, or if our arms are slow,
If Gods above prevent, or men below.
To him the king: how much thy years excel 440
In arts of council, and in speaking well !
O would the Gods, in love to Greecé, decree,
But ten such sages as they grant in thee;
Such wisdom soon should Priam’s foree destroy,
And soon should fall the haughty towers of Troy!
But Jove forbids, who plunges those he hates 446
In fierce contention and in vain debates.
Now great Achilles from our aid withdraws,
By me provok’d; a captive maid the cause: ,
If e’er as friends we join, the Trojan wall 450
Must shake, and heavy will the vengeance fall!
But now, ye warriors, take a short repast;
And, well-refresh’d, to bloody conflict haste.
His sharpen’d spear let every Grecian wield,
And every Grecian fix his brazen shield ; 455
 70 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK II.

Let all excite the fiery steeds of war,

And all for combat fit the rattling car.
This day, this dreadful day, let each contend;
No rest, no respite, ’till the shades descend:
Till darkness, or "till death, shall cover all; δ400
Let the war bleed, and let the mighty fall!
"Till bath’d in sweat be every manly breast,
With the huge shield each brawny arm deprest,
Each aching nerve refuse the lance to throw,
And each spent courser at the chariot blow. 465
Who dares, inglorious, in his ships to stay,
Who dares to tremble on this signal day ;
That wretch, too mean to fall by martial power,
The birds shall mangle, and the dogs devour.
The monarch spoke; and strait a murmur rose,
Loud as the surges when the tempest blows, 471
That dash’d on broken rocks tumultuous roar,
And foam and thunder on the stony shore.

Ver. 463.] An addition of hisown, which appears to advan-

tage in such a noble and animated passage. Mr. Cowper also is
excellent, as well as faithful:
Every buckler’s thong
Shall sweat on the toil’d bosom; every hand,
That shakes the spear, shall ache, and every steed
Shall smoke, that whirls the chariot o’er the plain. WwW.
Ver. 470.] This is grand poetry, but not Homer; to whom
Chapman keeps closest of the old translators; and Mr. Cowper is
still more observant of his author. The following attempt is ac-
curately faithful : 7
He spake; the legions shouted, like a wave
On a high shore, dash’d by the boisterous south
Against a cliff projecting, which the swell
Incessant beats, from every wind that blows. Ww.
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 77

Strait to the tents the troops dispersing bend,

The fires are kindled, and the smokes ascend; 475
With hasty feasts they sacrifice, and pray
To’ avert the dangers of the doubtful day.
A steer of five years age, large-limb’d and fed,
To Jove’s high altars Agamemnon led :
There bade the noblest of the Grecian peers; 480
And Nestor first, as mest advane’d in years.
Next came Idomeneus, and Tydeus’ son,
Ajax the less, and Ajax Telamon;
Then wise Ulysses in his rank was plac’d;
And Menelaiis came unbid, the last. 485
The chiefs surround the destined beast, and take
The sacred offering of the salted cake :
When thus the king prefers his solemn prayer,
Oh thou! whose thunder rends the clouded air,
Who in the heaven of heavens hast fix’d thy throne,
Supreme of Gods! unbounded and alone ! 491
Hear! and before the burning sun descends,
Before the night her gloomy veil extends,
Low in the dust be laid yon’ hostile spires,
Be Priam’s palace sunk in Grecian fires, 495
In Hector’s breast be plung’d this shining sword, ~
And slaughter’d heroes groan around their Lord !
Thus pray’d the chief: his unavailing prayer
Great Jove refused, and tost in empty air:

_ Ver. 476.] His original required,

Each to his God, they sacrifice and pray. Ww,
Ver. 496.] Our poet is too concise: Travers is more successful,
who has uniformly profited both from the excellencies and defects of
his predecessor.
78 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It.

The God averse, while yet the fumes arose, δ 500

Prepared new toils, and doubled woes on woes.
Their prayers perform’d, the chiefs their rites pursue,
The barley sprinkled, and the victim slew.
The limbs they sever from the’ inclosing hide,
The thighs, selected to the Gods, divide. 505
On these, in double cauls involv’d with art,
The choicest morsels lie from every part.
From the cleft wood the crackling flames aspire,
While the fat victims feed the sacred fire.
The thighs thus sacrific’d, and entrails drest, 510
The’ assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest;
Then spread the tables, the repast prepare,
Each takes his seat, and each receives his share.
Soon as the rage of hunger was supprest,
The generous Nestor thus the prince addrest. 515
Now bid thy heralds sound the loud alarms,
And call the squadrons sheath’d in brazen arms :

Let Hector’s arms no more the chief befriend;

Fierce through his corslet may this sword descend:
Prone at his feet with many a fatal wound
Let his grim warriors bite the dusty ground. W.
Ver. 500.] Our poet disguises a circumstance, which is well
represented by Travers:
Thus, but in vain, the suppliant monarch strove
To melt the heart of unrelenting Jove;
Though grateful were the rites, the god decreed
That woes unnumber’d should on woes succeed. W.
Ver. 516.] The translator passes over three entire verses of his
master, which Mr. Cowper has executed very commendably ; and I
shall attempt myself:
Tllustrious son of Atreus, king of men !
Debate we here no longer, nor delay
To execute whate’er great Jove ordains. W.
 BOOK It. HOMER’s ILIAD. 79

Now seize the’ occasion, now the troops survey,

And lead to war when Heaven directs the way.
He said ;the monarch issued his commands; 520
Strait the loud heralds call the gathering bands.
The chiefs inclose their King; the hosts divide,
In tribes and nations rank’d on either side.
High in the midst the blue-eyed virgin flies;
From rank to rank she darts her ardent eyes: 525
The dreadful Aigis, Jove’s immortal shield,
Blazed on her arm, and lighten‘d all the field:

Ver. 525.] Our translator was mindful of Milton here, Par.

Lost, i. 567 :
He through the armed files
Darts his experienc’d eye, and soon traverse
The whole battalion views, their order due:
for this noble verse is a rapturous effusion of his own; and his en-
thusiasm has thrown a glorious lustre on other parts of the passage,
unborrowed from his author: and let general excellence atone, if
it can atone, for the addition of some circumstances and the suppres-
sion of others. The unauthorized appendage of serpents in ver. 528,
mentioned in his own note, might be first suggested by Chapman.
And all the translators concur in mistaking the gzs for a shield:
that it was a dbreast-plate appears sufficiently from Iliad, v. 909.
and I have proved abundantly in my notes on verses 1015, 1443, of
the Jon of Euripides.
The following version is literal:
With them the blue-eyed maid her AEgis held
Precious, not subject to decay, or death:
Dacier’s “ la redoutable Egide,” supplied our translator with his
epithet. Ww.
Ver. 526. The dreadful Aigis, Jove’s immortal shield.] Homer
does not expressly call it a shield in this place, but it is plain from
_ several other passages than it was so. In the fifth Iliad, this /Egis
is described with a sublimity that is inexpressible. The figure of
the Gorgon’s head upon it is there specified, which will justify the
mention of the serpents in the translation here: the verses are re-
markably sonorous in the original, Ρ,
+
 80 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It,

Round the vast orb a hundred serpents roll’d,

Form’d the bright fringe, and seem’d to burn in gold.
With this each Grecian’s manly breast she warms,
Swells their bold hearts, and strings their nervous
arms : 531
No more they sigh, inglorious to return,
But breathe revenge, and for the combat burn.
As on some mountain, through the lofty grove,
The crackling flames ascend, and blaze above; 535
The fires expanding, as the winds arise,
Shoot their long beams, and kindle half the skies:
So from the polish’d arms, and. brazen shields,
A gleamy splendor flash’d along the fields. -
Not less their number than the’ embodied cranes,
Or milk-white swans in Asius’ watery plains, 541
That o’er the windings of Cayster’s springs,
Stretch their long necks, and clap their rustling wings;
Now tower aloft, and course in airy rounds ;
Now light with noise ; with noise the field resounds.
Thus numerous and confused, extending wide, 546
The legions crowd Scamander’s flowing side ;
With rushing troops the plains are cover’d o’er,
And thundering footsteps shake the sounding shore.
Along the river’s level meads they stand, 550
Thick as in spring the flowers adorn the land,
Or leaves the trees; or thick as insects play,
The wandering nation of a summer’s day.

Ver. 552. Or thick as insects play.| This simile translated lites

rally runs thus: As the numerous troops offlies about a shepherd’s
cottage in spring, when the milk moistens the pails ; such numbers
of Greeks stood in the field against the Trojans, desiring their de-
BOOK. 1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 81

That drawn by milky steams, at evening hours,

In gather’d swarms surround the rural bowers; 555
From pail to pail with busy murmur run
The gilded legions, glittering in the sun.
So throng’d, so close, the Grecian squadrons stood
In radiant arms, and thirst for Trojan blood.
Each leader now his scatter’d force conjoins, 560
In close array, and forms the deepening lines.

struction. The lowness of this image, in comparison with those

which precede it, will naturally shock a modern critick, and would
scarce be forgiven in a poet of these times. The utmost a transla
tor can do is to heighten the expression, so as to render the disparity
less observable ; which is endeavoured here, and in other places. If
this be done successfully, the reader is so far from: being offended at
a low idea, that it raises his surprise to find it grown great in the
poet’s hands, of which we have frequent instances in Virgil’s
Georgicks. Here follows another of the same kind, in the simiie
of Agamemnon to a bull, just after he has been compared to Jove,
Mars, and Neptune. This, Eustathius tells us, was blamed by
some criticks, and Mr. Hobbes has left it out in his translation.
The liberty has been taken here to place the humbler simile first,
reserving the noble one as a more magnificent close of the descrip-~
tion: the bare turning the sentence removes the objection. Milton,
who was a close imitator of our author, has often copied him in these
humble comparisons. He has not scrupled to insert one in the
midst of that pompous description of the rout of the rebel angels
in the sixth book, where the Son of God in all his dreadful Majesty
is represented pouring his vengeance upon them :
As a herd
Of goats, or timorous tlocks together throng’d,
Drove them before him thunder-struck. Pp.
Ver. 556.] A beautiful couplet of his own, sufficiently ac-
counted for by our poet in his note on the passage. We must re<
gret, however, that he does not seem to have relished in a manner,
that might have been expected from his taste and genius, the sim-
plicity of his original. Hence once circumstance, which confers the
highest value on Homer, scarcely appears in his translator ; a deli-
neation of the manners, individual and political, of antiquity, W.
VOL. I. G
82 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It

Not with more ease, the skilful shepherd swain

Collects his flocks from thousands on the plain.
The King of Kings, majestically tall,
Towers o’er his armies, and outshines them all: 565
Like some proud bull that round the pastures leads
His subject-herds, the monarch of the meads.
Great as the Gods, the’ exalted chief was seen,
His strength like Neptune, and like Mars his mien;
Jove o’er his eyes celestial glories spread, 570
And dawning conquest play’d around his head.
Say, Virgins, seated round the throne divine,
All-knowing goddesses ! immortal nine !
Since earth’s wide regions, heaven’s unmeasured
height,
And hell’s abyss, hide nothing from your sight, 575
(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,
But guess by rumour, and but boast we know)
Oh say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame,
Or urged by wrongs, to Troy’s destruction came !
To count them all, demands a thousand tongues, 580
A throat of brass, and adamantine lungs.

Ver. 570.] Here again his own enthusiasm, kindling with his
author, carried him away from the direct road of imitation, intoa
magnificent region of original beauty. That sublime imagery in
Lee’s Alexander might cross his memory on this occasion:
When Glory, like the conquering eagle, stood
Perch’d on my beaver in the Granic flood.
But his principal] attention was fixed on Cowley, David. iv. 863.
Bright signs through all your words and looks are spread,
A rising victory dawns around your head.
Hobbes is literal, whom I quote merely that the English οὐδέ
may know Homer as he is:
Like Jove in head and face ;
Belted like Mars ; like Neptune’s was his breast. Ww.
BOOK It. HOMER’s ILIAD. 83

Daughters of Jove, assist! inspired by you

The mighty labour dauntless I pursue :
What crowded armies, from what climes they bring,
Their names, their numbers, and their chiefs I
sing. 585

THE CATALOGUE OF THE SHIPS.

THE hardy warriors whom Beeotia bred,

Peneleus, Leitus, Prothoénor led:
With these Arcesilaus and Clonius stand,
Equal in arms, and equal in command.
These head the troops that rocky Aulis yields, 590
And Eteon’s hills, and Hyrie’s watery fields,
And Scheenus, Scholos, Grzea near the main,
And Micalessia’s ample piny plain.

Ver, 584.] Homer says only,

The naval chiefs and all their shipsI sing. Ww.
Ver. 586. The hardy warriors.| The catalogue begins in this
place, which I forbear to treat of at present: only I must acknow-
ledge here that the translation has not been exactly punctual to the
order in which Homer places his towns. However it has not tres-
passed against geography; the transpositions I mention being no
other dhiea such minute ones, as Strabo confesses the author himself
is not free from. FP.
The necessities of rhyme, and a desire of infusing animation into
what some would call a heavy catalogue of names, impelled our
poet to various insertions of epithets, and additions of minute cir-
cumstances, in deviation from his original; in which he displays
inimitable dexterity and taste: but the reader would be wearied
and disgusted by a perpetual enumeration of these trivial diversities ;
no less than by the notice of some omissions of proper names
throughout the catalogue.
The consummate skill, however, and taste, and ingenuity of
our unrivalled translator, are no where more conspicuous than in
his execution of this arduous portion of his author. W.
G 2
84 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK If.

Those who in Peteon or [lesion dwell,

Or Harma where Apollo’s prophet fell ; 595
Heleon and Hylé, which the springs o’erflow;
And Medeon. lofty, and Ocalea low ;
Or in the meads of Haliartus stray,
Or Thespia sacred to the God of Day.
Onchestus, Neptune’s celebrated groves ; 600
Copz, and Thisbé, famed for silver doves,
For flocks Erythrz, Glissa for the vine ;
Platea green, and Nisa the divine.
And they whom Thebé’s well-built walls enclose,’
Where Mydé, Eutresis, Coroné rose; 605
And Ayrné rich, with purple harvests crown’d;
And Anthedon, Beotia’s utmost bound.
Full fifty ships they send, and each conveys
' Twice sixty warriors through the foaming seas.
To these succeed Aspledon’s martial train 610
Who plow the spacious Orchomenian plain ;
Two valiant brothers rule the’ undaunted throng,
Talmen and Ascalaphus the strong :
Sons of Astioché, the heavenly fair,
Whose virgin charms subdued the God of War: 615
(In Actor’s court as she retired to rest,
The strength of Mars the blushing maid comprest)
Their troops in thirty sable vessels sweep
With equal oars the hoarse-resounding deep. .
The Phocians next in forty barks repair, 620
Epistrophus and Schedius head the war.
From those rich regions where Cephisus leads
His silver current through the flowery meads;
From Panopéa, Chrysa the divine,
Where Anemoria’s stately turrets shine, 625
BOOK It. HOMER’s ILIAD. 85

Where Pytho, Daulis, Cyparissus stood,

And fair Lilea views the rising flood.
These, ranged in order on the floating tide,
Close, on the left, the bold Beeotians’ side.
Fierce Ajax led the Locrian squadrons on, 630
Ajax the less, Oileus’ valiant son ;
Skill’d to direct the flying dart aright ;
Swift in pursuit, and active in the fight.
Him, as their chief, the chosen troops attend,
Which Bessa, Thronus, and rich Cynos send: 635
Opus, Calliarus, and Scarphe’s bands:
And those who dwell where pleasing Augia stands,
And where Bodagrius floats the lowly lands,
Or in fair Tarphe’s sylvan seats reside ;
In forty vessels cut the yielding tide, 640
Eubeea next her martial sons prepares,
And sends the brave Abantes to the wars:
Breathing revenge, in arms they take their way
From Chalcis’ walls, and strong Eretria;
The’ Isteian fields for generous vines renown’d, 645
The fair Caristos, and the Styrian ground;
Where Dios from her towers o’erlooks the plain,
And high Cerinthus views the neighbouring main.

Ver. 630.] Our poet here, by some unintentional omission, I

should think, has entirely lost sight of Homer. Thus Travers,
with more fidelity :
The troops of Locris were by Ajax led ;
He, from whose arm the lance unerring fled ;
He, whom the queen of great Oileus bore ;
Who on his breast the linen corslet wore :
In stature less, but swifter in the field,
Than him who bears the Telamonian shield. W.
5
86 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It.

Down their broad shoulders falls a length of hair;

Their hands dismiss not the long lance in air; 650
But with protending spears in fighting fields,
Pierce the rough corslets and the brazen shields.
Twice twenty ships transport the warlike bands,
Which bold Elphenor, fierce in arms, commands.
Full fifty more from Athens stem the main, 655
Led by Menestheus through the liquid plain,
(Athens the fair, where great Erectheus sway’d,
That owed his nurture to the blue-eyed maid,
But from the teeming furrow took his birth,
The mighty offspring of the foodful earth. 660
Him Pallas placed amidst her wealthy fane,
Adored with sacrifice and oxen slain ;
Where as the years revolve, her altars blaze,
And all the tribes resound the Goddess’ praise)
No chief like thee, Menestheus! Greece could
yield 665
To marshal armies in the dusty field,
The’ extended wings of battle to display,
Or close the’ embodied host in firm array.
Nestor alone, improved by length of days,
For martial conduct bore an equal praise. 670
With these appear the Salaminian bands,
Whom the gigantic Telamon commands;

Ver. 649. Down their broad shoulders, &c.| The Greek has it
\ / ν
omibey κομνόωντες ἃ tergo comantes. It was the custom of these people
to shave the fore-part of their heads, which ‘they did that their
enemies might not take the advantage of seizing them by the hair:
the hinder-part they let grow, as a valiant race that would never
turn their backs. Their manner of fighting was hand to hand,
without quitting their javelins (in the manner of our pikemen). P.
ΒΟΟΚ 11. HOMER’s ILIAD. 87

In twelve black ships to Troy they steer their course,

And with the great Athenians join their force.
Next move to war the generous Argive train 675
From high Troezené, and Maseta’s plain,
And fair AXgina circled by the main :
Whom strong Tyrinthe’s lofty walls surround, ἢ
And Epidaure with viny harvests crown’d:
And where fair Asinen and Hermion show 680
Their cliffs above, and ample bay below.
These by the brave Euryalus were led,
Great Sthenelus, and greater Diomed,
But chief Tydides bore the sovereign sway;
In four score barks they plow the watery way. 685
The proud Mycené arms her martial powers,
Cleoné, Corinth, with imperial towers,
Fair Arzthyrea, Ornia’s fruitful plain,
And gion, and Adrastus’ ancient reign ;
And those who dwell along the sandy shore, 690
And where Pellené yields her fleecy store,
Where Helicé and Hyperesia lie,
And Gonoéssa’s spires salute the sky.
Great Agamemnon rules the numerous band,
A hundred vessels in long order stand, 695
And crowded nations wait his dread command.
High on the deck the king of men appears,
And his refulgent arms in triumph wears;

_ Ver. 697.] He misrepresents the original in this place. Ho-

mer is not speaking of his appearance in his ship, but as he appeared
on the present occasion at the head of his people prepared for
battle. The following attempt is literal, and commensurate with
the Greek :
88 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK 1

Proud of his host, unrival’d in his reign,

In silent pomp he moves along the main. 700
His brother follows, and to vengeance warms
The hardy Spartans, exercised in arms :
Phares and Brysia’s valiant troops, and those
Whom Lacedzmon’s lofty hills inclose:
Or Messe’s towers for silver doves renown’d, 705
Amycle, Lads, Augia’s happy ground.
And those whom Oetylos’ low walls contain,
And Helos, on the margin of the main:
These, o’er the bending ocean, Helen’s cause
In sixty ships with Menelaiis draws : 710
Eager and loud, from man to man he flies,
Revenge and fury flaming in his eyes;
While, vainly fond, in fancy oft he hears
The fair-one’s grief, and sees her falling tears. :
In ninety sail, from Pylos’ sandy coast, 715
Nestor the sage conducts his chosen host:
From Amphigenia’s ever-fruitful land;
Where A‘py high, and little Pteleon stand;
Where beauteous Arené her structures shows,
And Thryon’s walls Alpheus’ streams inclose: 720
And Dorion, famed for Thamyris’ disgrace,
Superior once of all the tuneful race:
He, clad in glittering brass, exulting went
In proud distinction of superior worth
O’er all the heroes, and more numerous troops. W.
Ver. 711.] This passage, though wanting in strict. fidelity, is
replete with poetical animation. ‘The original runs literally thus:
He in the midst, with ardent vigour bold,
Exhorts to war, for much he wish’d revenge
For Helen’s sorrows and uneasy thoughts. Ww.
Ver. 721.] The poetry of this description is exquisite indeed ;
 ‘BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 89

ΠῚ vain of mortals’ empty praise, he strove

To match the seed of cloud-compelling Jove!
Too-daring bard! whose unsuccessful pride 725
The’ immortal Muses in their art defied.
The’ avenging Muses of the light of day
Deprived his eyes, and snatch’d his voice away;
No more his heavenly voice was heard to sing,
His hand no more awaked the silver string. 730
Where under high Cyllené, crown’d with wood,
The shaded tomb of old Aipytus stood:
From Ripé, Stratie, Tegea’s bordering towns,
The Phenean fields, and Orchomenian downs,
Where the fat herds in plenteous pasture rove; 735
And Stymphelus with her surrounding grove,
- Parrhasia, on her snowy cliffs reclin’d,
And high Enispé shook by wintry wind,
And fair Mantinea’s ever-pleasing site ;
In sixty sail the’ Arcadian bands unite. 740
Bold Agapenor, glorious at their head,
(Anczeus’ son) the mighty squadron led.
Their ships, supplied by Agamemnon’s care,
Through roaring seas the wondering warriors bear;
The first to battle on the’ appointed plain, 74
But new to all the dangers of the main.

but it’s variation from the original may be known by the following
attempt ; all unworthy, but with this view, of appearing in com-
petition with strains of such unrivalled excellence.
Where Thracian Thamyris the Muses met
Returning from Oechalian Eurytus,
And stopt his tuneful voice. The daughters he
Boastful defied of AEgis-bearing Jove,
Who smote the bard with blindness ; and at once
Oblivion seiz’d his lyre and song divine. W.
 90 HOMER’s IEIAD. BOOK 1.
Those, where fair Elis and Buprasium join,
Whom Hyrmin, here, and Myrsinus confine,
And bounded there, where o’er the valleys rose
The’ Olenian rock; and where Alisium flows; 750
Beneath four chiefs (a numerous army) came :
The strength and glory of the’ Epean name.
In separate squadrons these their train divide,
Each leads ten vessels through the yielding tide.
One was Amphimachus, and Thalpius one; 755
(Eurytus’ this, and that Tedtus’ son)
Diores sprung from Amarynceus’ line;
And great Polyxenus, of force divine.
But those who view fair Elis o’er the seas
From the blest Islands of the’ Echinades, 760
In forty vessels under Meges move,
Begot by Phyleus the beloved of Jove.
To strong Dulichium from his sire he fled,
And thence to Troy his hardy warriors led.
Ulysses follow’d through the watery road, 765
A chief in wisdom equal to a God.
With those whom Cephalenia’s isle inclos’d,
Or till their fields along the coast oppos’d:

Ver. 746. New to all the dangers of the main.] The Arcadians
being an inland people were unskilled in navigation, for which
reason Agamemnon furnished them with shipping. From hence,
and from the last line of the description of the sceptre, where he
is said to preside over many islands, ‘Thucydides takes occasion to
observe that the power of Agamemnon was superior to the rest of
the princes of Greece, on account of his naval forces, which had
rendered him master of the sea. Thucyd. lib. 1. τῷ
Ver. 758.] After this our poet drops ἃ verse, thus accurately
exhibited by Mr. Cowper:
Son of Agasthenes, Augeia’s son. Ww.

EE
_—
e
ee
ee
Sy
eee
Ea
BOOK It. HOMER’s ILIAD. 91

Or where fair Ithaca o’erlooks the floods,

Where high Neritos shakes his waving woods, 770
Where Aigilipa’s rugged sides are seen,
Crocylia rocky, and Zacynthus green,
These in twelve galleys with vermilion prores,
Beneath his conduct sought the Phrygian shores.
Thoas came next, Andrzeemon’s valiant son, 775
From Pleuron’s walls, and chalky Calydon,
And rough Pylené, and the’ Olenian steep,
“And Chalcis beaten by the rolling deep.
He led the warriors from the’ A*tolian shore,
For now the sons of Oeneus were no more! 780
The glories of the mighty race were fled!
Oeneus himself, and Meleager dead !
To Thoas’ care now trust the martial train,
His forty vessels follow through the main.
Next eighty barks the Cretan king commands,
Of Gnossus, Lyctus, and Gortyna’s bands, 786
And those who dwell where Rhytion’s domes arise,
Or white Lycastus glitters to the skies,
Or where by Phestus silver Jardan runs;
Crete’s hundred cities pour forth allher sons: 790
These march’d, Idomeneus, beneath thy care,
And Merion, dreadful as the God of War.
Tlepolemus, the son of Hercules,
Led nine swift vessels through the foamy seas :

Ver. 789.] This silver Jardan is a bold addition to his ori-

ginal ; and where he found it, I am unable to discern. Strabo
mentions a Grecian river of this name, but I have not discovered
one in Crete, W.
92 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK II.

From Rhodes with everlasting sunshine bright, 795

Jalyssus, Lindus, and Camirus white.
His captive mother fierce Alcides bore
From Ephyr’s walls, and Sellé’s winding shore,
Where mighty towns in ruins spread the plain,
And saw their blooming warriors early slain. 800
The hero, when to manly years he grew,
Alcides’ uncle, old Licymnius, slew;
For this, constrain’d to quit his native place,
And shun the vengeance of the’ Herculean race,
A fleet he built, and with a numerous train, 805.
Of willing exiles, wander’d o’er the main;
Where, many seas and many sufferings past,
On happy Rhodes the chief arrived at last: |
There in three tribes divides his native band,
And rules them peaceful in a foreign land; 810
Increased and prosper’d in their new abodes,
By mighty Jove, the sire of men and Gods;
With joy they saw the growing empire rise,
And showers of wealth descending from the skies.
Three ships with Nireus sought the Trojan shore,
Nireus, whom Aglie to Charopus bore ; 816
Nireus, in faultless shape and blooming grace,
The loveliest youth of all the Grecian race;

Ver. 807.] These eight lines are the representatives of four in

his original: of which, to demonstrate the fertile fancy of our poet,
and the magnificent emblazonry of his pencil, to the English reader,
I will venture a literal translation :
To Rhodes our exile came, vast woes endur’d:
There in three tribes they dwelt, belov’d by Jove,
Jove, universal king ! who stream’d profuse
His stores of wealth upon them from the skies. Ww.
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 93
Pelides only match’d his early charms ;
But few his troops, and small his strength in arms.
Next thirty galleys cleave the liquid plain, 821
Of those Calydnz’s sea-girt isles contain :
With them the youth of Nisyrus repair,
Casus the strong, and Crapathus the fair;
Cos, where Eurypylus possest the sway, 825
*Till great Alcides made the realms obey :
These Antiphus and bold Phidippus bring,
Sprung from the God by Thessalus the king.
Now, Muse, recount Pelasgic Argos’ powers,
From Alos, Alopé, and Trechin’s towers; τ 880
From Phthia’s spacious vales; and Hella blest
With female beauty far beyond the rest.
Full fifty ships beneath Achilles’ care,
The’ Achaians, Myrmidons, Hellenians bear;
Thessalians all, though various in'their name; $35
The same their nation, and their chief the same.
But now inglorious, stretch’d along the shore,
They hear the brazen voice of war no more ;
No more the foe they face in dire array:
Close in his fleet the angry leader lay, 840
Since fair Briseis from his arms was torn,
The noblest spoil from sack’d Lyrnessus borne ;

Ver. 824.] One might suppose our poet mistook these for the
names of men, instead of places: and ver. 826 is entirely his own
invention.
Ver. 831.] A very illiterate mistake for Hellas; a name trans-
ferred afterwards not unfrequently to all Greece. Ww.
Ver. 835.] <A beautiful ne but unauthorised by his
original. WwW.
94 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Il:

Then, when the chief the Theban walls o’erthrew,

And the bold sons of great Evenus slew.
There mourned Achilles, plunged in depth of care, 845
But soon to rise in slaughter, blood, and war.
To these the youth of Phylacé succeed,
Itona, famous for her fleecy breed,
And grassy Pteleon deck’d with cheerful greens,
The bowers of Ceres, and the sylvan scenes, 850
Sweet Pyrrhasus, with blooming flowerets crown’d,
And Antron’s watery dens, and cavern’d ground.
These own’d as chief Protesilas the brave,
Who now lay silent in the gloomy grave :
The first who boldly touch’d the Trojan shore, 855
And dyed a Phrygian lance with Grecian gore;
There lies, far distant from his native plain;
Unfinish’d, his proud palaces remain, ,
And his sad consort beats her breast in vain.

Ver. 855.] Our translator is much too brief in this passage.

The truth was, that the simplicity of Homer’s narrative did not
suit the majesty of Pope’s numbers. Mr. Cowper, however, has
done justice upon the whole, to his original, with no common
merit ; whom I shall stay to quote on this occasion:
First he died
Of all the Greeks: for, as he leap’d to land
Foremost by far, a Dardan struck him dead.
Nor had his troops, though fill’d with deep regret,
No leader: them Podarces led, a chief
Like Mars in battle, brother of the slain,
But younger born, and from Iphiclus sprung,
Who sprang from Phylacus the rich in flocks :
But him Protesilaiis,asin years,
So also in desert of arms excell’d,
Heroic; whom his host, although they saw
Podarces at their head, still justly mourn’d. Ww.
4
BOOK Il. HOMER’s ILIAD. 95

His troops in forty ships Podarces led, 860

Iphiclus’ son, and brother to the dead :
Nor he unworthy to command the host;
Yet still they mourn’d their ancient leader lost.
The men who Glaphyra’s fair soil partake,
Where hills encircle Boebé’s lowly lake, 865
Where Phere hears the neighbouring waters fall,
Or proud Iolcus lifts her airy wall,
In ten black ships embark’d for Ilion’s shore,
With bold Eumelus, whom Alcesté bore:
All Pelias’ race Alcesté far outshin’d, 870
The grace and glory of the beauteous kind.
The troops Methoné, or Thaumacia yields,
Olizon’s rocks, or Melibcea’s fields,
With Philoctetes sail’d, whose matchless art,
From the tough bow directs the feather’d dart. 875
Seven were his ships: each vessel fifty row,
Skill’d in the science of the dart and bow.
But he lay raging on the Lemnian ground,
A poisonous Hydra gave the burning wound;
There groan’d the chief in agonizing pain, 880
Whom Greece at length shall wish, nor wish in
vain.
His forces Medon led from Lemnos’ shore,
Oileus son, whom beauteous Rhena bore.

Ver. 871. The grace and glory of the beauteous kind.] He gives
Alcestis this eulogy of the glory of her sex, for her conjugal piety,
who died to preserve the life of her husband Admetus. Euripides
has a tragedy on this subject, which abounds in the most masterly
strokes of tenderness: in particular the first act, which contains
the description of her preparation for death, and of her behaviour
in it, can never be enough admired. Ῥ.
96 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It.
The’ Oechalian race, in those high towers con-
tain’d,
Where once Eurytus in proud triumph reign’d, 885
Or where her humbler turrets Tricca rears,
Or where Ithomé, rough with rocks, appears,
In thirty sail the sparkling waves divide,
Which Podalirius and Machaon guide.
To these his skill their * parent-God imparts, 890
Divine professors of the healing arts.
The bold Ormenean and Asterian bands
In forty barks Eurypylus commands,
Where Titan hides his hoary head in snow,
And where Hyperia’s silver fountains flow. 895
Thy troops, Argissa, Polypeetes leads,
And Eleon, shelter’d by Olympus’ shades,
Gyrtoné’s warriors, and where Orthé lies,
And Oledson’s chalky cliffs arise.
Sprung from Pirithous of immortal race, 900
The fruit of fair Hippodamé’s embrace,
(That day, when hurl’d from Pelion’s cloudy head,
To distant dens the shaggy Centaurs fled)
With Polypeetes join’d in equal sway,
Leonteus leads, and forty ships obey. 905

Ver. 897.] A vicious orthography for Elone, and an imper-

fect rhyme: nor has Homer one word about Olympus, though
this mountain was indeed situated in this neighbourhood. W.
Ver. 904.] A verse of the original is neglected. Mr. Cowper
is perfectly faithful, and as elegant as the passage would allow.
With him was join’d
Leonteus, dauntless warrior, from the bold
Coronus sprung, who Ceneus call’d his sire. W.
* 7sculapius.
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 97

In twenty sail the bold Perhzbians came

From Cyphus, Guneus was their leader’s name.
With these the Enians join’d, and those who freeze,
Where cold Dodona lifts her holy trees ;
Or where the pleasing Titaresius glides, 910
And into Peneus rolls his easy tides;
Yet o'er the silver surface pure they flow,
The sacred stream unmix’d with streams below.
Sacred and awful! From the dark abodes
Styx pours them forth, the dreadful oath of Gods !
Last under Prothous the Magnesians stood, 910
Prothous the swift, of old Tenthredon’s blood;
Who dwell where Pelion, crown’d with piny boughs,
Obscures the glade, and nods his shaggy brows;
Or where through flowery Tempé Peneus stray’d,
(The region stretch’d beneath his mighty shade) 920
In forty sable barks they stemm’d the main;
Such were the chiefs, and such the Grecian train.
Say next, O Muse! of all Achaia breeds, —
Who bravest fought, or rein’d the noblest steeds ?

Ver. 925. Or rein’d the noblest steeds.| This coupling together.

of men and horses seems odd enough ; but Homer every where
treats these noble animals with remarkable regard. We need not
wonder at this enquiry, which were the best horses? from him, who
makes his horses of heavenly extraction as well as his heroes: who
makes his warriors address them with speeches, and excite them by
all those motives which affect a human breast ; who describes them
shedding tears of sorrow, and even capable of voice and prophecy: in
most of which points Virgil has not scrupled to imitate him. δ
Besides, the management of the horse was characteristic of gal-
lantry and spirit among the ancients; an achievement, that re-
flected lustre on their heroes. Hence, in Homer, the epithet of
tamer of the steed is employed as highly honourable even to his
most distinguished warriors, Ww.
WOOL, I. H
98 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK It.
Eumelus’ mares were foremost in the chase, 926
As eagles fleet; and of Pheretian race ;
Bred where Pieria’s fruitful fountains flow,
And train’d by him who bears the silver bow.
Fierce in the fight their nostrils breath’d a flame, 930
Their height, their colour, and their age the same ;
O’er fields of death they whirl the rapid car,
And break the ranks, and thunder through the war.
Ajax in arms the first renown acquir’d,
While stern Achilles in his wrath τοῦ ἃ: 935.
(His was the strength that mortal might exceeds,
And his, the’ unrivall’d race of heavenly steeds)
But Thetis’ son now shines in arms no more ;
His troops, neglected on the sandy shore,
In empty air their sportive javelins throw, 940
Or whirl the disk, or bend an idle bow :
Unstain’d with blood his cover’d chariots stand;
The’ immortal coursers graze along the strand :
But the brave chiefs the’ inglorious life deplor’d,
And wandering o’er the camp, required their lord.
Now, like a deluge, covering all around, 946
The shining armies sweep along the ground;

Ver. 9307 Thisis a mere addition, not to be commended. W.

Ver. 938.] Travers more faithfully:
But he for Greece no longer waved the sword,
Fierce in his wrath against her haughty lord. Ww.
Ver. 943.] The original is unhappily abbreviated here. The
following is a literal translation :
The coursers by their several charicts stood,
And lotus with the marsh-bred parsley browz’d. Ww.
Ver. 944.] This is the true sense of Homer :
Their lords were sauntering round, from battle far,
But wish’d some valiant chief to lead them there. Ww.
 BOOK It. HOMER’s ILIAD. — 99

Swift as a flood of fire, when storms arise,

Floats the wide field, and blazes to the skies.
Karth groan’d beneath them; as when angry Jove
Hurls down the forky lightning from above, 951
On Arime when he the thunder throws,
And fires Typhceus with redoubled blows,
Where Typhon, prest beneath the burning load,
Still feels the fury of the’ avenging God. 955
But various Iris, Jove’s commands to bear,
Speeds on the wings of winds through liquid air;

Ver. 950. As when angry Jove.] The comparison preceding

this, of a fire which runs through the corn and blazes to heaven,
had exprest at once the dazzling of their arms and the swiftness of
their march. After which Homer having mentioned the sound of
their feet, superadds another simile, which comprehends both the
ideas of the brightness and the noise: for here (says Eustathius)
the earth appears to durnand groan at the same time. Indeed the
first of these similes is so full and so noble, that it scarce seemed
possible to be exceeded by any image drawn fromnature. But Ho-
mer to raise it yet higher, has gone into the marvellous, given a
prodigious and supernatural prospect, and brought down Jupiter
himself, arrayed in all his terrors, to discharge his lightnings and
thunders on Typheeus, The poet breaks out into this description
with an air of enthusiasm, which greatly heightens the image in ~
general, while it seems to transport him beyond the limits of an
exact comparison. And this daring manner is particular to our
author above all the ancients, and to Milton above all the mo- |
derns. P,
Ver. 951.) The mention of lightning here, after the preceding
simile to that purport, is unauthorised and incongruous. An-
other object is considered by the author in this place. ‘The fol-
lowing attempt is faithful :
Earth groan’d beneath them, as when thundering Jove,
Enraged, in Arime with lash of fire
Strikes on Typhceus’ subterranean bed:
Beneath their trampling feet thus groan’d the ground,
As in swift march they scour’d across the plain. W.
H2
100 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK I.
In Priam’s porch the Trojan chiefs she found,
The old consulting, and the youths around.
Polites’ shape, the monarch’s son, she chose, 960:
Who from Aisetes’ tomb observed the foes,
High on the mound; from whence in prospect lay
The fields, the tents, the navy, and the bay.
In this dissembled form, she hastes to bring
The’ unwelcome message to the Phrygian king. 965
Cease to consult, the time for action calls,
War, horrid war, approaches to your walls!
Assembled armies oft’ have I beheld;
But ne’er till now such numbers charged a field.
Thick as autumnal leaves. or driving sand, 970.
The moving squadrons blacken all the strand.
Thou, godlike Hector! all thy force employ,
Assemble all the’ united bands of Troy;
In just array let every leader call
The foreign troops: this day demands them all. 975
The voice divine the mighty chief alarms;
The council breaks, the warriors rush to arms.

Ver. 962.] He would have been more faithful and grammatical

had he written :
Matchless in swiftness ; whence in prospect lay—. W.
Ver. 970.] Homer says merely /cke leaves.
Ver. 973.] The original is but little seen in this place. Let
the reader accept the following attempt at fidelity:
Priam’s great city holds auxiliar bands
In language various as their numerous tribes:
Each separate chief his separate troop command,
And range his squadronsin the marshall’d field. W.
Ver. 976.] This is inaccurate. Travers seems preferable:
The mighty chief the voice celestial knew:
The council rose; to arms the warriors flew. W.
‘BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 101

The gates unfolding pour forth all their train,

Nations on nations fill the dusky plain,
Men, steeds, and chariots shake the trembling
ground, 980
The tumult thickens, and the skies resound.
Amidst the plain in sight of Tlion stands
A rising mount, the work of human hands,
(This for Myrinne’s tomb the’ immortals know,
Though call’d Bateia in the world below) 985
Beneath their chiefs in martial order here,
The’ auxiliar troops and Trojan hosts appear.
The godlike Hector, high above the rest,
Shakes his huge spear, and nods his plumy crest:
In throngs around his native bands repair, 990
And groves of lances glitter in the air.
Divine Hneas brings the Dardan race,
Anchises’ son, by Venus’ stolen embrace,
Born in the shades of Ida’s secret grove,
(A mortal mixing with the queen of love) 995
Archilochus and Acamas divide
The warrior’s toils, and combat by his side.
Who fair Zeleia’s wealthy valleys till,
Fast by the foot of Ida’s sacred hill ; !
Or drink, A‘sepus, of thy sable flood; 1000
Were led by Pandarus, of royal blood.
To whom his art Apollo deign’d to show,
Graced with the presents of his shafts and bow.
‘From rich Apzsus and Adrestia’s towers,
High Terez’s summits, and Pityea’s bowers; 1005
From these the congregated troops obey
Young Amphius and Adrastus’ equal sway;
3
102 HOMER’s ILIAD: BOOK ΗΠ:
Old Merops’ sons; whom, skill’d in fates to come,
The sire forewarn’d, and prophesied their doom :
Fate urged them on! the sire forewarn’d in vain,
They rush’d to war, and perish’d on the plain. 1011
From Practius’ stream, Percote’s pasture lands,
And Sestos and Abydos’ neighbouring strands,
From great Arisbe’s walls and Selle’s coast,
Asius Hyrtacides conducts his host: 1015
High on his car he shakes the flowing reins,
His fiery coursers thunder o’er the plains.
The fierce Pelasgi next, m war renown’d,
March from Larissa’s ever-fertile ground :
In equal arms their brother leaders shine, 1020
Hippothous bold, and Pyleus the divine.
Next Acamus and Pyrous lead their hosts,
In dread array, from Thracia’s wintry coasts;
Round the bleak realms where Hellespontus roars,
And Boreas beats the hoarse-resounding shores. 1025
With great Euphemus the Ciconians move,
Sprung from Troezenean Ceus, loved by Jove.
Pyrzechmes the Pzeonian troops attend,
Skill’d in the fight their crooked bows to bend;
From Axius’ ample bed he leads them on, 1030
Axius, that laves the distant Amydon,
Axius, that swells with all his neighbouring rills,
And wide around the floating region fills.
The Paphlagonians Pylamenes rules,
Where rich Henetia breeds her savage mules, 1035

Ver. 1016.] This animated couplet represents but three words

of his author:
Huge fire-red coursers. W.
BOOK II. HOMER’s ILIAD. 103

Where Erythinus’ rising clifts are seen,

Thy groves of box, Cytorus! ever green ;,
And where Aigyalus and Cromna lie,
And lofty Sesamus invades the sky ;
And where Parthenius, roll’d through banks of
flowers, | 1040
Reflects her bordering palaces and bowers.
Here march’d in arms the Halizonian band,
Whom Odius and Epistrophus command,
From those far regions where the sun refines
The ripening silver in Alybean mines. 1045
There, mighty Chromis led the Mysian train,
And augur Ennomus, inspired in vain,
For stern Achilles lopt his sacred head,
Roll’d down Scamander with the vulgar dead.
Phorcys and brave Ascanius here unite 1050
The’ Ascanian Phrygians, eager for the fight.
Of those who round Mezonia’s realms reside,
Or whom the vales in shades of Tmolus hide,
Mestles and Antiphus the charge partake;
Born on the banks of Gyges’ silent lake. 1055
There, from the fields where wild Mzeander flows,
High Mycale, and Latmos’ shady brows,
And proud Miletus, came the Carian throngs,
With mingled clamours, and with barbarous tongues.
Amphimachus and Naustes guide the train, 1060
Naustes the bold, Amphimacus the vain,

Ver. 1045.] This notion of the sun’s agency is an addition of

his own. In the same manner he speaks of gold in his Moral
Essays :
Flam’d forth this rival to its s¢ve the sun. W.
104 ἨΟΜΕΒ ILIAD. BOOK It.

Who trick’d with gold, and glittering on his car,

Rode like a woman to the field of war.
Fool that he was! by fierce Achilles slain,
The river swept him to the briny main : 1065
‘There whelm’d with waves the gaudy warrior lies;
The valiant victor seized the golden prize.
The forces last in fair array succeed,
Which blameless Glaucus and Sarpedon lead;
The warlike bands that distant Lycia yields, 1070
Where gulphy Xanthus foams along the fields.

Ver. 1062.] The car was made by our translator. Thus Tra-
vers:
Who, deckt with gold, and fond of empty pride,
Rode to the combat like a glittering bride. W.
Ver. 1068.] This elegant conclusion is drawn from two lines
of his original, which I render thus:
Sarpedon and the blameless Glaucus led
The Lyciuns, far from Xanthus’ gulphy stream, Ww,
 OBSERVATIONS

ON

THE CATALOGUE.

AF we look upon this piece with an eye to ancient learning,

it may be observed, that however fabulous the other parts
of Homer’s poem may be, according to the nature of Epic
Poetry, this accountof the people, princes, and countries,
is purely historical, founded on the real transactions of
those times, and by far the most valuable piece of history
and geography left us concerning the state of Greece in
that early period. Greece was then divided into several
dynasties, which our author has enumerated under their
respective princes; and this division was looked upon so ex-
act, that we are told of many controversies concerning the
boundaries of Grecian cities, which have been decided
upon the authority of this piece. Eustathius has collected
together the following instances. The city of Calydon was
adjudged to the Aétolians, notwithstanding the pretensions
of Aolia, because Homer had ranked it among the towns
belonging to the former. Sestos was given to those of
Abydos, upon the plea that he had said the Abydonians
were possessors of Sestos, Abydos and Arisbe. When the
Milesians and people of Priene disputed their claim to
Mycale, a verse of Homer carried it in favour of the Mile-
-sians. And the Athenians were put in possession of Salamis
by another which was cited by Solon, or (as some think)
interpolated by him for that purpose. Nay in so high
estimation has this catalogue been held, that (as Porphyry
has written) there have been laws in some nations for the
100 _,, OBSERVATIONS ΟΝ

youth to learn it by heart, and particularly Cerdias (whom

Cuperus de Apopth. Homer. takes to be Cercydus, a law-
giver of the Megalopolitans) made it one to his countrymen.
But if we consider the catalogue purely as poetical, it
will not want its beauties in that light. Rapin, who was
none of the most superstitious admirers of our author,
reckons it among those parts which had particularly charmed
him. We may observe first, what an air of probability is
spread over the whole poem by the particularizing of every
nation and people concerned. in this war. Secondly, what
an entertaining scene he presents to us, of somany countries
drawn in their liveliest and most natural colours, while we
wander along with him amidst a beautiful variety of towns,
havens, forests, vineyards, groves, mountains, and rivers;
and are perpetually amused with his observations on the
different soils, products, situations, or prospects. Thirdly,
what a noble review he passes before us of so mighty an
army, drawn out in order troop by troop; which, had the
number only been told in the gross, had never filled the
reader with so great a notion of the importance of the ac-
tion. Fourthly, the description of the differing arms and
manner of fighting of the soldiers, and the various attitudes
he has given to the commanders: of the leaders, the
greatest part are either the immediate sons of Gods, or the
descendants of Gods; and how great an idea must we haye
of a war, to the waging of which so many Demigods and
heroes ave assembled? Fifthly, the several artful compli-
ments he paid by this means to his own country in general,
and many of his contemporaries in particular, by a cele-
bration of the genealogies, ancient seats, and dominions
of the great men of his time. Sixthly, the agreeable mix-
ture of narrations from passages of history or fables, with
which he amuses and relieves us at proper intervals. And
lastly, the admirable judgment wherewith he introduces
this whole catalogue, just at a time when the posture of
 THE CATALOGUE. 107

affairs in the army rendered such a review of absolute

necessity to the Greeks; and in a pause of action, while
each was refreshing himself to prepare for the ensuing
battles.
Macrobius in his Saturnalia, lib. v. cap. 15, has given us
a judicious piece of criticism, in the comparison betwixt
the catalogues of Homer and Virgil, in which he justly
allows the preference to our author, for the following
reasons. Homer (says he) has begun his description from
the most noted promontory of Greece (he means that of
Aulis, where was the narrowest passage to Eubeea). From
thence with a regular progress he describes either the mari-
time or mediterranean towns, as their situations are con-
tiguous : he never passes with sudden leaps from place to
place, omitting those which lie between ; but, proceeding
like a traveller in the way he has begun, constantly returns
to the place from whence he digressed, till he finishes the
whole circle he designed. Virgil, on the contrary, has
observed no order in the regions described in his catalogue,
l, x. but is perpetually breaking from the course of the
country in a loose and desultory manner. You have
Clusium and Cose at the beginning, next Populonia and
Ilva, then Pisge, which lie at a vast distance in Etruria;
and immediately after Cerete, Pyrgi, and Graviscze, places
adjacent to Rome: from hence he is snatched to Liguria,:
then to Mantua. The same negligence is observable in his
enumeration of the aids that followed Turnus in 1. vii.
Macrobius next remarks, that all the persons who are
named by Homer in his catalogue are afterwards intro-
duced in his battles, and whenever any others are killed, he
mentions only a multitude in general. Whereas Virgil (he
continues) has spared himself the labour of that exactness ;
for not only several whom he mentions in the list are never
heard of in the war, but others make a figure in the war,
of whom we had no notice in the list. For example, he
108 OBSERVATIONS ON

specifies a thousand men under Massicus who came from

Clusium, 1, x. ver. 167. Turnus soon afterwards is in the
ship which had carried King Osinius from the same place,
]. x. ver. 655. This Osinius was never named before, nor
is it probable a king should serve under Massicus. Nor
indeed does either Massicus or Osinius ever make their ap-
pearance in the battles.—He proceeds to instance several
others, who though celebrated for heroes in the catalogue,
have no father notice taken of them throughout the poem.
In the third place he animadverts upon the confusion of the
same names in Virgil: as where Corinzeus in the ninth
book is killed by Asylas, ver. 571, and Corinzeus in the
twelfth kills Ebusus, ver. 298. Numa is slainby Nisus, 1.
ix. ver. 454, and AMneas is afterwards in pursuit of Numa,
}. ix. ver. 562. Atneas kills Camertes in the tenth book,
ver. 562, and Juturna assumes his shape in the twelfth,
ver. 224. He observes the same obscurity in his Patrony-
mics. There is Palinurus Iacides, and Iapix Iacides, Hip-
pocoon Hyrtacides, and Asylas Hyrtacides. On the con-
trary, the caution of Homer is remarkable, who having
two of the name of Ajax, is constantly careful to distinguish
them by Oileus or Telamonius, the lesser or the greater
Ajax.
_ I know nothing to be alleged in defence of Virgil in
answer to this author, but the common excuse that his
/Eneis was left unfinished. And upon the whole, these are
such trivial slips, as great wits may pass over, and little
eriticks rejoice at.
But Macrobius has another remark, which one may ac-
cuse of evident partiality on the side of Homer. He blames
Virgil for having varied the expression in his catalogue, to
avoid the repetition of the same words, and prefers the bare
and unadorned reiterations of Homer ; who begins almost
every article the same way, and ends perpetually, Μέλαιναι
vies ἕποντο; &c. Perhaps the best reason to be given for this
 THE CATALOGUE. 109

had been the artless manner of the first times, when such
repetitions were not thought ungraceful. This may appear
from several of the like nature in the scripture; as in the
twenty-sixth chapter of Numbers, where the tribes of
Israel are enumerated in the plains of Moab, and each
division recounted in the same words. So in the seventh
chapter of the Revelations: Of the tribe of Gad were
sealed twelve thousand, &c. But the words of Macrobius
are, Has copias fortasse putat aliquis divine ill simplicitati
preferendas, Sed nescio quo modo Homerum repetitio illa
unice decet, et est genio antiqui Poéte digna. This is ex-
actly in the spirit, and almost in the cant, of a true modern
eritick. The Szmplicitas, the Nescio quo modo, the Genio
antiqui Poéte digna, are excellent general phrases for
those who have no reasons. Simplicity is our word of dis-
guise for a shameful unpoetical neglect of expression: the
term of the Je ne sgay quoy is the very support of all
ignorant pretenders to delicacy; and to lift up our eyes,
and to talk of the Genius of an ancient, is at once the
cheapest way of showing our own taste, and the shortest
way of criticising the wit of others our contemporaries.
One may add to the foregoing comparison of these two
authors, some reasons for the length of Homer’s, and the
shortness of Virgil’s catalogues. As, that Homer might
have a design to settle the geography of his country, there
being no description of Greece before his days; which was
not the case with Virgil. Homer’s concern was to com-
pliment Greece at a time when it was divided into many
distinct states, each of which might expect a place in his
catalogue: but when all Italy was swallowed up in the sole
dominion of Rome, Virgil had only Rome to celebrate.
Homer had a numerous army, and was to describe an im-
portant war with great and various events, whereas, Virgil’s
sphere was much more confined. The ships of the Greeks
were computed at about one thousand two hundred, those
 110 OBSERVATIONS ΟΝ

of AEneas and his aids but at two and forty ; and as the time
of the action of both poems is the same, we may suppose the
build of their ships, and the number of men they contained,
to be much alike. So that if the army of Homer amounts
to about a hundred thousand men, that of Virgil cannot be
above four thousand. If any one be farther curious to
know upon what this computation is founded, he may see it
in the following passage of Thucydides, lib. 1. “* Homer's
ἐς fleet (says he) consisted of one thousand two hundred
ἐς vessels: those of the Boeotians carried one hundred and
“twenty men in each, and those of Philoctetes fifty. By
ἐς these I suppose Homer exprest the largest and the smallest
ἐς size of ships, and therefore mentions no other sort. But
‘he tells us of those who sailed with Philoctetes, that they
ἐς served both as mariners and soldiers, in saying the rowers
ἐς were all of them archers. ~ From hence the whole number
ἐς will be seen, if we estimate the ships at a medium between
“ἐς the greatest and the least.” ‘That is to say, at eighty-five
men to each vessel (which is the mean between fifty and a
hundred and twenty) the total comes to a hundred and two
thousand men. Plutarch was therefore in a mistake when
he computed the men at a hundred and twenty thousand,
which proceeded from his supposing a hundred and twenty
in every ship; the contrary to which appears from the
above-mentioned ships of Philoctetes, as well as those of
Achilles, which are said to carry but fifty men a-piece, in
the sixteenth Iliad, ver. 207.
Besides Virgil’s imitation of this catalogue, there has
scarce been any Epic writer but has copied after it: which
is at least a proof how beautiful this part has been ever
esteemed by the finest geniuses in all ages. The catalogues
in the ancient Poets are generally known, only I must take
notice that the Phocian and Beoeotian towns in the fourth
Thebaid of Statius are translated from hence. Of the mo-
derns, those who most excel owe their beauty to the imita-
 THE CATALOGUE. 111

tion of some single particular only of Homer. Thus the

chief grace of Tasso’s catalogue consists in the description of
the heroes, without any thing remarkable on the side of the
countries: of the pieces of story he has interwoven, that of
Tancred’s amour to Clorinda is ill placed, and evidently
too long for the rest. Spenser’s enumeration of the British
and Irish rivers, in the eleventh canto of his fourth book, is
one of the noblest in the world; if we consider his subject
was more confined, and can excuse his not observing the
order or course of the country; but his variety of descrip-
tion, and fruitfulness of imagination, are no where more ad-
mirable than in that part. Milton’s list of the fallen angels
in his first book, is an exact imitation of Homer, as far as
regards the digressions of history, and antiquities, and his
manner of inserting them: in all else I believe it must be al-
lowed inferior. And indeed what Macrobius has said to
cast Virgil below Homer, will fall much more strongly upon
all the rest.
I had some cause to fear that this catalogue, which con-
tributed so much to the success of the author, should ruin
that of the translator. A mere heap of proper names,
though but fora few lines together, could afford little enter-
tainmentto an English reader, who probably could not be
apprized either of the necessity or beauty of this part of the
poem. ‘There were but two things to be'done to give it a
chance to please him: to render the versification very flow-
ing and musical, and to make the whole appear as much a
landscape or piece of painting as possible. For both ofthese
I had the example of Homer in general; and Virgil, who
found the necessity in another age to give more into descrip-
tion, seemed to authorise the latter in particular. Dionysius
of Halicarnassus, in his discourse of the Structure and dis-
position of words, professes to admire nothing more than the
harmonious exactness with which Homer has placed these
words, and softened the syllables into each other, so as to
1
112 OBSERVATIONS ON

derive musick from a crowd of names, which have in them-

selves no beauty or dignity. I would flatter myself that I
have practised this not unsuccessfully in our language,
which is more susceptible of all the variety and power of
numbers, than any of the modern, and second to none but
the Greek and Roman. For the latter pointI have ven-
tured to open the prospect a little, by the addition of a few
epithets or short hints of description to some of the places
mentioned; though seldom exceeding the compass of half a
verse (the space in which my author himself generally con-
fines these pictures in miniature). But this has never been
done without the best authorities from the ancients, which
may be seen under the respective names in the geographical
table following.
The table itself I thought but necessary to annex to the
map*, as my warrant for the situations assigned in it to
several of the towns. For in whatever maps I have seen to
this purpose, many of the places are omitted, or else set
down at random. Sophianus and Gerbelius have laboured
to settle the geography of old Greece, many of whose mis-
takes were rectified by Laurenbergius. These however
deserved a greater commendation than those who succeeded
them; and particularly Sanson’s map prefixed to Du Pin’s
Bibliotheque Historique, is miserably defective both in
omissions and false placings; which I am obliged to men-
tion, as it pretends to be designed expressly for this cata-
logue of Homer. I am persuaded the greater part of my
readers will have no curiosity this way, however they may
allow me the endeavour of gratifying those few who have:
the rest are at liberty to pass the two or three following
leaves unread.

* The map, mentioned above, was not deemed of sufficient importance

to be engraven anew for this edition,
 Α

GEOGRAPHICAL TABLE
OF THE TOWNS, ἄς, IN

HOMER’S CATALOGUE OF GREECE,

With the Authorities for their Situation.

BCEOTIA, under five Captains, Penexevus, &c

containing,

AULIS, a haven on the Eubce- the river Asopus falls into that
an sea opposite to Chalcis, where sea. Ibid. 7
the passage to Eubeea is narrow- Mycalessus, between Thebes
est. Strabo, lib. ix. and Chalcis. Paus. Beot. near
᾿ Eteon, Homer describes itas Tanagra or,Grea. Strab. 1. ix.
a hilly country, and Statius after Famous for its pine-trees.—Pi-
him—densaimque jugis Eteonen nigeris Mycalessus in Agris.
iniguis. Theb. vii. * Statius, 1. vii.
Hyrie, a town and Jake of the Harma, close by Mycalessus.
same name, belonging to the ter- Strab. 1. ix. This town as well
ritory of Tanagra or Grea. as the former lay near the road
Strab. 1. ix. from Thebes toChalcis. Paus.
Scheenus, it lay in the road Beot. It was here that Amphi-
between Thebes and Anthedon, araus was swallowed by the
50 stadia from Thebes. Strab. earth in his chariot, from
Ibid. whence it received its name.
Scholos, a town under mount Strab. Ibid.
Cytheron. Ibid. _Ilesion, it was situate in the
Thespia, near Haliartus, un- fens near Heleon and Hyle, not
der mount Helicon. Paus. far from ‘Tanagra. These three
Beeot. near the Corinthian bay. places took their names from
“Strab. 1. ix. ) being so seated. (Ἔλος, Padus.)
Grea, the same with Tana- Strab, |. ix.
_gra, 30 stadia from Aulis, on Erythra, in tke confines of
the Eubcean sea; by this place Anne near Platea, Thucyd. 1.
VOL. I,
114 A GEOGRAPHICAL TABLE TO

lil.dites pecorum comitantur Onchestus, on the lake Co-

Erythre. Stat. Theb. vii. pais. The grove consecrated to —

Peteon, in the way from The- Neptune in this place, and cele-
bes to Anthedon. Strab., I. ix. brated by Homer, together with
Ocalea, in the mid-way be- a temple and statue of that God,
twixt Haliartus and Alalcome- were shewn in the time of Pau.
nese Ibid. sanias. Vide Beot.
_ Medeon, near Onchestus. Arné, seated on the same
Ibid. lake, famous for vines. Strab.
Cope, a town on the lake Hom.
Copais, by the river Cephissus, Midea, on the same lake.
next Orchomenus. Ibid. Thid.
Eutresis, a small town of the Nissa, or Nysa (apud Sta-
Thespians near Thisbe, Ibid. tium) or according to Strabo,
Thisbe, under mount -Heli- 1. ix. Isa; near Anthedon.
con. Paus. Beot. Authedon, a city on the sea-
Coronea, seated on the Ce- side, opposite to Eubeea, the ut-
phissus, where it falls into the most on the shore towards Lo-
lake Copais. Strab. 1. ix. cris. Strab. 1. 1χ, Teque ulti-
Haliartus, on the same lake, ma tractu Anthedon. Statius,
Strab. Ibid. Bordering on Coro- ]. vii.
nea and Platea. Paus. Beot. Aspledon, 20 stadia from Or-
Platza, between Citheron chomenus. Strab. 1. ix.
and Thebes, divided from the Orchomenus, and the plains.
latter by the river Asopus. about it, being the most spa-
Strab. 1. ix. Viridesque Plate- cious ofallin Beotia. (Plutarch
as. Stat. Th. vii. in Vit. Sylle, circa medium.)
Glissa, in the territory of Homer distinguishes these two
Thebes, abounding with vines, last from the rest of Beotia.
Baccho Glisanta colentes. Stat. They were commanded by Asca-
Thebé, situate between the ri- laphus and Ialmen.
vers Ismenus and Asopus. Strab.
1. ix,

PHOCIS, wader Scuevivus and Eristroruus,

containing,
Cyparissus, the same with adjoining to Orchomenia, just by
Anticyra according to Pausa- Hyampolis or Anemoria. Ibid.
nias, on the bay of Corinth. both the same ac-
Pytho, adjoining to Parnas- _Hyampolis, | con to Stra-
sus: some think it the same Anemoria, bo. Ibid. Con-
with Delphi. Pausan. Phocic. fining upon Lo-
Crissa, a sea-town on the bay cris. Paus. Phoe.
of Corinth near Cyrrha, Strab. Lilaa, at the head of the
}. ix. river Cephissus, just on the
Daulis, upon the Cephissu s at edge of Phocis. Ib.—propel-
the foot of Parnassu s. Ibid. lentemque Lilzam Cephissi gla-
Panopea , upon thesame river, ciale caput. Stat. |. vii.
 HOMER'S CATALOGUE. 115
LOCRIS, under AJ ax O1LEUvs, containing,
Cynus, a maritime town to- Augiz.
wards Eubeea. Strab. |. ix. Tarphe.
Opus, a Locrian city, 15 sta- Thronius, on the Melian bay,
dia from the sea, adjacent to Strab. 1. ix.
Panopea in Phocis. Ib. Boagrius, a river that passes
Calliarus. by Thronius, and runs into the
Bessa, so called from being bay of Oeta, between Cynus and
rr with shrubs, Strab. Scarphe. Ibid.
7m All these opposite to the isle
Scarphe, seated between Thro- of Eubeea.
nium and Thermopyle, ten sta-
dia from the sea. Ibid.

EUBQiA, under ELPHENOR, containing,

Chalcis, the city nearest to Hom. Near the river Budo-
the continent of Greece, just rus, Strab.]. x.
opposite to Aulis in Beotia. Dios, seated high. Hom.
Strab. |. x. Near Histica. Strab. Ib.
Eretria, between Chalcis and Caristos, a city at the foot of
Gerestus. Ibid. the mountain Ocha. Strab. Ib.
Histiza, a town with vines Between Eretria and Gerestus,
yards, over-against Thessaly. Ptolem. |, iii.
Herod. 1. vii. Styra, a town near Caristos,
Cerinthus, on the sea-shore. Strab. Ibid.

ATHENS, under MENESTHEUS.

The Isle of SALAMIS, under AJax TELAMON.
PELOPONNESUS, the East Part divided into Anata and
Mycena, under AGAMEMNON, contains
Argos, 40 stadia from the sea. Eione was on the seasside,.
Paus. Corin. for Strabo tells us the people of
Tyrinthé, between Argos and Mycenz made it a station for
Epidaurus. Ibid. their ships, 1. viii.
(Three cities lying Epidaurus, a town and little
in this order on the island adjoining, in the inner
bay of Hermione, part of the Saronic bay. Strab.
Strab, 1. viii. Paus. ]. vill, It was fruitful in vines
Corinth. Troezene in Homer’s time,
ali was seated high, The isle of Algina, over.
eTMIODs%, ond Asine 5 rocky against Epidaurus.
, 1e
Trezene, / coast. Altaque Maseta belongs to the Argo-
Treezene. Ov. Fast. lic shore according to Strabo,
ii———Quos Asine who observes that Homer names
cautes. Luean. I. it not in the exact order, plac-
Evite "ἘΠ with Agina. Strab. 1, viii.
2
116 A GEOGRAPHICAL TABLE TO

Mycenez, between Cleoneand to Parnassus. Polyb. 1. iv.

Argos. Pausan. Strab. Gonoéssa, Homer describes
Corinth, near the Isthmus. it situate very high, and Seneca,
-Cleone, between Argos and Troas, Carens nunquam Go-
Corinth. Paus. Corinth. noéssa vento.
Ornia, on the borders of Si- Pellene, bordering on Sicyon
cyonia. Ibid. and Pheneus, 60 stadia from
Arethyrea, the same with the sea. Paus. Arcad. Cele-
Phlyasia, at the source of the brated anciently for its wool.
Achaian Asopus. Strab. 1. viii. Strab. |. viiis Jul. Pol.
Sicyon (anciently the king- Next Sicyon lies Pel-
dom of Adrastus) betwixt Co- lene, &c. then He-
rinth and Achaia. Paus. Co- lice, and next to He-
rinth. Agium, lice, Zgium. Strab.
Hyperesia, the same with Helice, l. viii. Helice lies on
figira, says Pausau. Achaic. the sea side, 40 sta-
Seated betwixt Pellene and He- dia from Agium.
lice. Strab. 1.. viii. Opposite Paus. Ach.

The West Part of PELOPONNESUS, divided into Laconia,

MeEssENIA, ARCADIA, and ELIs.

LACONIA, wnder MENELAUS, containing,

Sparta, the capital city, on (Laconicis) 30 stadia from Gye
the river Eurotas. thium.
Phares, on the bay of Messe- Amycle, 20 stadia from
nia. Strab. |. viil. Sparta towards the sea. Ptol.
Messa, Strabo thinks this a ]. iv. under the mountain Tay-
contraction of Messena, and getus. Strab, |. viii.
Statius in his imitation of this Helos, on the sea-side, Hom.
catalogue, lib. iv. calls it so. Upon the river Eurotas. Strab.
Brysia, under mount Tay- Ibid.
getus. Paus. Lacon. Laas.
Augia, the same with Agi Oetylos, nearthe Promontory
in the opinion of Pausanias of Tznarus. Paus. Lac.

MESSENIA, under NEsTOR, Containing,

Pylos, the city of Nestor on phers differ about the situation
the sea-shore. of this town, but agree to place
Arené, seated near the river it near the sea. Vide Strabo,
Minyeius. Hom. Il. xi. Strab. }. vili—Summis ingestum mon-
1. vill. 7 tibus ZEpy. Stat. |. iv.
Thryon,on the river Alpheus, Cyparissia, on the borders of
the same with Homer else- Messenia, and upon the bay call-
where calls Thryoéssa. Strab. ed from. it Cyparissus. Pause
Ibid. | Messen. .
_ &py, the ancient Geogra- Amphigenia, —Fertilis Am-
 HOMER’S CATALOGUE. 117
phigenia. Stat. Th. iv. near Helos, near the river Al-
the former. So also, Pteleon, pheus. Ibid.
which was built by a colony Dorion, a field or mountain
from Pteleon in Thessaly. near the sea. Ibid.
Strab. 1. viii.
ARCADIA, under AGAPENOR, containing,
The mountain Cyllene, the |
ation assigned. Lib,
highest of Peloponnesus, on vill. prope fin, Enispé
the borders of Achaia and Ar. stood high, as ap-
cadia near Pheneus. Paus. Ar- pears from Hom. and
cad. Under this stood the Statius, |. iv. Vento-
tomb of Aipytus. That monu- |saque donat Enispé.
ment (the same author tells us) Tegea, between Argos and
was remaining in his time; Sparta. Polyb. 1. iv.
it was only a heap of earth, Mantinza, bordering upon
inclosed with a wall of rough Tegea, Argia, and Orchome-
stone. nus. Paus. Arcad.
Pheneus, confining on Pel- _ Stymphatius, confining on
lene, and Stymphalus. Ibid. Phlyasia or Arethyria, Strab.
Orchomenus, confining on 1, vill.
Pheneus and Mantineza, Ibid. Parrhasia, adjoining to La-
Ripe, These three, Strabo conia. Thucid. 1], v.—Parrha-
Stratie, < tells us, are not to be sizque nives. Ovid. Fast, ii.
Enispé, (found, nor their situ-

ELIS, under four Leaders, AMPHIMACHUS, &c. containing,

The city Elis, 120 stadia from 70 stadia from Elis, Stra. 1, viii.
the sea. Paus, Eliacis, 1], The Olenian Rocks, which
Buprasium near Elis, Stra. stood near the city Olenos, at
1. viii. the mouth of the river Pierus.
The places bounded by the Paus. Achaic.
fields of Hyrmine, in the terri- And Alysium, the name of
tory of Elis, between mount a town or river, in the way
Cyllene and the sea, from Elis to Pisa. Strab, 1.
‘ Myrsiaus, on the seasside, Viil,

The ISLES, over against the Continent of Ex1s, ACHAIA, or

ACARNANIA,
Echinades and Dulichium, last is generally supposed to be
under Meges. the largest of these islands on
The Cephalenians under the east side of Cephalenia, and
Ulysses, being those from Sa- next to it; but that is, accord-
mos (thesame with Cephalenia) ing to Wheeler, 20 Italian miles
from Zacynthus, Crocylia, Agi- in circumference, whereas Stra-
lipa, Neritus,and Ithaca. This bo gives Ithaca but 80 stadia
118 A GEOGRAPHICAL TABLE TO

about. It was rather one of nent, by which (as M. Dacier

the lesser islands towards the observes) cannot be meant Epi-
mouth of the Achelous. rus properly so called, which
Homer adds to these places was never subject to Ulysses,
under the dominion of Ulysses, but only the sea-coast of Acar-
Epirus and the opposite conti- nania, opposite to the islands.

The Continent of ACARNANIA and ATOLIA,, under Tuoas.

Pleuron, seated between but more in the land. Strab.
Chaleis and Calydon, by the 1. x.
sea-shore, upon the river Eve- Chalcis, a sea-town. Hom.
nus, west of Chalcis, Strab. Situate on the easteside of the
}, x. Evenus. Strab. Ibid. There
Olynos; lying above Calydon, was another Chalcis at the
with the Evenus on the east of head of the Evenus, called by
it, Ibid. Strabo Hypo-Chalcis.
Pylené, the same with Pros- Calydon, on the Evenus also.
chion, not far from Pleuron, Ibid.

The Isle of CRETE, under IDOMENEWS, containing,

Gnossus, seated in the plain Gortyna, 20 from the sea,
between Lyctus and Gortyna, under Gortyna. Strab. Ibid.
120 stadia from J.yctus. Strab, It lay on the river Jardan, as
ΜΕ Ἢ appears by Homer’s description
Gortyna, 90 stadia from the of it in the third book of the
African sea. Ibid. Odyssey.
Lyctus, 80 stadia from the Lycastus.
same sea. Ibid. Rhytium, under Gortyna.
Miletus, Strab. .
. Pheestus, 60 stadia from

The Isle of RHODES, under TLEPOLEMUS, containing,

- Lindus, on the right-hand to Jalyssus, between Camirus
those who sail from the city and Rhodes. Ibid.
of Rhodes, southward. Strab. Camirus,
1, χὴν.

The Islands, Syma (under Nirevs) Nisyrus, CaRPATHUS,

Casus, Cos, CALYDNA&, under ANTIPHUS and PHIDIPPUS.

The Continent ef THESSALY, toward the ΕΑΝ Sea, under

ACHILLES,
- Argos Pelasgicum (the same. tis). Strabo, I. ix, says: that
which was since called Phthioe some thought this the name of
 HOMER'S CATALOGUE. 119
a town, others that Homer Some supposed these
meant by it this part of Thes- two to be names of
saly in general (which last the same place, as
seems most probable). Steph. Phthia, Strabo says; though
Byzant observes, there was a Hellas, tis plain Homer distin-
city Argos in Thessaly, as well guishes them. Whe-
as in Peloponnesus ; the former ther they werecities or
was called Pelasgic, in contra- regions Strabo is not
distinction to the Achaian: for (determined. lib. ix,
though the Pelasgi possest seve- The Hellenes, This deno-
ral parts of Epirus, Crete, mination, afterwards common
Peloponnesus, &c. yet they to all the Greeks, is here to
retained their principal seat be understood only of those
in Thessaly. Steph. Byz. in who inhabited Phthiotis. It
v. Panel. was not till long after Homer’s
Both on the shore time that the people of other
of Thessaly towards cities of Greece, desiring ase
Alos, Locris. Strabo, }. ix. sistance from these, began
Alope, Alos lies in the pas- to have the same name from
sage of Mount O- their communication with
thrys. Ib. them, as Thucydides remarks
Trechine, under the moun. in the beginning ef his first
tain Oeta: Eustath. in IL. ii. book,

The following under PROTESILAUS.

Phylacé, on the ‘coast of be between Antron and Pyr-
Phthiotis, toward the Melian rhasus; but Pliny describes it
bay. Strab. |. ix. with great exactness to lie on
Pyrrhasus, beyond the moun- the shore towards Beeotia, on
tain -Othrys, had the grove of
the confines of Phthiotis, upon
Ceres within two stadia of it.
the river Sperchius; accords
Ibid. ing to which particulars, it
must have been seated as 1
Itona, 60 stadia from Alos;
it lay higher in the land than
have placed it. Livy also seats
Pyrrhasus, above mount Othrys.
it on the Sperchius.
Ibid. All those towns’ which
Antron, on the sea-side. were under Protesilaus (says
Hom. In the passage to Eu- Strabo, lib. ix.) being the five
bea. Ibid. last mentioned, lay on the
Pteleon, the situation of eastern side of the mountain
this town in Strabo seems to Othrys.

These under EUMELUS.

Phere, in the farthest part the fountains of Hyperia. Stra.
of Magnesia, confining on Glaphyra.
mount Pelion, Strab. 1, ix. Tolcos, a seaetown on the
Near the lake of Bebe. Ptol. Pegasean bay, Livy, 1. iv.
And plentifully watered with and Strab.
190 TABLE TO HOMER’S CATALOGUE.
Under PHILOCTETES.
Methone, a city of Mace- Olyzon. It seems that this
donia, 40 stadia from Pydna place lay near Bebe, Iolcos,
in Pieria. Strab. | | and Ormenium, from Strab.
In Phthiotis near ], ix. where he says, Deme-
Thaumacia, }Pharsalus, ac- trius caused the inhabitants of
Melibeea, cording to the these towns to remove to De-
same author. Ib. metrias on the same coast.

The Upper THESSALY.

The following under Popauirius and MacHaon.

Trice, or Tricca, not far Ithome, near Tricca. Ibid.
from the mountain Pindus, Oechalia, the situation not
on the left-hand of the Peneus, certain, somewhere near the
as it runs from Pindus. Strab. forementioned towns. Strab.
lib. ix. Ibid.

Under EURYPYLUS.
Ormenium, under Pelion, on Asterium, hard by Phere
the Pegasean bay, near Bebe. and Titanus. Ibid.
Ibid.
;

Under PoLYPG@TES.

Argissa, lying upon the river - Both lying under

Peneus. Strab. lib. x. Elone, Olympus, near the
Gyrtone, a city of Perrhebia, Oloosson, ) river Titaresius.
at the foot of Olympus. Ibid. Ibid.
Orthé, near Peneus and Teme
pus. Ibid,

Under GunNEUS and ProtTuovws.

_ Cyphus, seated in the moun- Peneus. Ibid. It is also called

tainous country towards Olym- Eurotas.
pus. Ibid. The river Peneus rises from
Dodona, among the moun- mount Pindus, and _ flows
tains, towards Olympus. Ibid. through Tempe into the sea.
Titaresius, a river rising in Strab. 1. vii. and ix.
the mountain Titarus, near Pelion, near Ossa, in Mag-
Olympus, and running into nesia. Herod. 1. vii. We
Ὁ.

TABLE OF TROY,

AND THE

AUXILIAR COUNTRIES.

Tue kingdom of Priam, di- on the river Selle, Percote, and

vided into eight dynasties. Practins, under Asius.
1. Troas, under Hector, These places lay between
whose capital was Ilion. Troy and the Propontis.
2. Dardania, under Aneas, The other three dynasties
the capital Dardanus. were under Mynes, Eetion,
3. Zeleia, at the foot of Ida, and Alteus; the capital of the
by the A‘sepus, under Panda- first was Lyrnessus, of the se.
rus. cond Thebe of Cilicia, of the
4, Adrastia, Apzsus, Pityea, third Pedasus in Lelegia. Ho-
mount Terex, under Adrastus mer does not mention these in
and Amphius. the catalogue, having been be-
5. Sestos, Abydos, Arisbe fore destroyed and depopulated
by the Greeks.

The Auxiliary Nations.

The Pelsagi, under Hippo- The Mysians, under Chromis

thous and Pyleus, whose capi- and Ennomus. The Phrygians
tal was Larissa, near the place of Ascania, under Phorcys and
where Cuma was afterwards Ascanius.
built. Strab. 1. xiii. The Mezonians, under Mest-
The Thracians, by the side les and Antiphus, who in-
of the Hellespont opposite to habited under the mountain
Troy, under Acamas and Py- Tmolus.
rous, and those of Ciconia, The Carians, under Nau-
under Euphemus. stes and Amphimacus, from
The Peonians from Mace- Miletus, the farthermost city
donia and the river Axius, un- of Caria towards the south.
der Pyrzchmes. Herodot. 1. 1.
The Paphlagonians, under Mycale, a mountain and
Pylemenes. The Halizonians, promontory opposite to 88.
under Odius and Epistrophus mos. Ibid,
199 TABLE TO HOMER’S CATALOGUE.

Pthiron, the same moun-

the river Xanthus, which runs
tain as Latmos, acccording to into the sea betwixt Rhodes and
Hecatzus. Cyprus. Homer mentions it to
The Lycians, under Sarpedon distinguish this Lycia from that
aud Glaucus, from the banks of which lies on the Propontis.
 THIRD BOOK

OF THE

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 THE ARGUMENT.

THE DUEL OF MENELAUS AND PARIS.

THE Armies being ready to engage, a single combat is

agreed upon between Menelaiis and Paris (by the intervention
of
Hector) for the determination of the war. Iris is sent to call
Helena to behold the fight. She leads her to the walls of Troy,
where Priam sat with his counsellors observing the Grecian
leaders on the plain below, to whom Helen gives an account
of the chief of them. The kings on either part take the so-
lemn oath for the conditions of the combat. The duel ensues,
wherein Paris being overcome, is snatched away in a cloud
by Venus, and transported to his apartment. She then calls
Helen from the walls, and brings the lovers together. Aga-
memnon, on the part of the Grecians, demands the restoration
of Helen, and the performance of the articles.
The three and twentieth day still continues throughout this
book. The scene is sometimes in the fields before Troy, and
sometimes in Troy itself. P.
 NOTE PRELIMINARY.
Se

OF all the books of the Iliad, there is scarce any more pleasing
than the third. It may be divided into five parts, each of which
has a beauty different from the other. The first contains what
passed before the two armies, and the proposal of the combat be-
tween Paris and Menelaiis: the attention and suspense of these
mighty hosts, which were just upon the point of joining battle, e

and the lofty manner of offering and accepting this important and
unexpected challenge, have something in them wonderfully pom-
pous, and of an amusing solemnity. The second part whih de-
scribes the behaviour of Helena in this juncture, her conference
with the old king and his counsellors, with the review of the heroes
from the battlements, is an episode entirely of another sort, which
excels in the natural and pathetick. The third consists of the ce-
remonies of the oath on both sides, and the preliminaries to the
combat; with the beautiful retreat of Priam, who in the tender-
ness of a parent withdraws from the sight of the duel: these par-
ticulars detain the reader in expectation, and heighten his impa-
tience for the fight itself. The fourth isthe description of the duel,
an exact piece of painting, where we see every attitude, motion,
and action of the combatants particularly and distinctly, and
which concludes with a surprising propriety, in the rescue of nTT
O
TT
i
G
τ
LT
ἰἝἙ
Te

Paris by Venus. The machine of that Goddess, which makes

the fifth part, and whose end is to reconcile Paris and Helena,
is admirable in every circumstance: the remonstrance she
holds with the Goddess, the reluctance with which she obeys her,
the reproaches she casts upon Paris, and the flattery and courtship
with which he so soon wins her over to him. Helen (the main
cause’of this war) was not to be made an odious character ; she is
drawn by this great master with the finest strokes, as a frail, but
not as an abandoned creature. She has perpetual struggles of virtue
on the one side, and softnesses which overcome them on the other.
Our author has been remarkably careful to tell us this; whenever
he but slightly names her in the foregoing part of his work, she
is represented at the same time as repentant ; and it is thus we see
her at large at her first appearance in the present book; which is
one of the shortest of the whole Iliad, but in recompence has
beauties almost in every line, and most of them so obvious, that
to acknowledge them we need only to read them. P.
6
 THE

THIRD BOOK

OF THE

IL
I A D.

Tus by their leader’s care each martial band

Moves into ranks, and stretches over the land.
With shouts the Trojans rushing from afar,
Proclaim their motions, and provoke the war:

Ver. 3. With shouts the Trojans.] The book begins with a

fine opposition of the noise of the Trojan army to the silence of
the Grecians. It was but natural to imagine this, since the former
was composed of many different nations, of various languages, and
strangers to each other; the latter were more united in their neigh-
bourhood, and under leaders of the same country. But as this
observation seems particularly insisted upon by our author (for he
uses it again in the fourth book, ver. 486.) so he had a farther rea-
son for it. Plutarch, in his treatise of reading the poets, remarks
upon this distinction, asa particular credit to the military discipline
of the Greeks. And several ancient authors tell us, it was the man-
ner of the Barbarians to encounter with shouts and outcries ; as it
continues to this day the custom of the Eastern nations. Perhaps
these clamours were only to encourage their men, instead of mar-
tial instruments. I think Sir Walter Raleigh says, there never was
a people but made use of some sort of musick in battle: Homer
never mentions any in the Greek or Trojan armies, and it is scarce
to be imagined he would omit a circumstance so poetical without
some particular reason. ἢ
128 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK IrIt.

So when inclement winters vex the plain 5

With piercing frosts, or thick-descending rain,
To warmer seas the cranes embodied fly,
With noise, and order, through the mid-way sky;
To Pigmy nations wounds and death they bring,
And all the war descends upon the wing. 10
But silent, breathing rage, resolved and skill’d
By mutual aids to fix a doubtful field,
Swift march the Greeks: the rapid dust around
Darkening arises from the labour’d ground.
‘Thus from his flaggy wings when Notus sheds 15
A night of vapours round the mountain-heads, —
Swift-gliding mists the dusky fields invade,
To thieves more grateful than the midnight shade;
While scarce the swains their feeding flocks sur-
vey,
Lost and confused amidst the thicken’d day: 20
So wrapt in gathering dust, the Grecian train,
A moving cloud, swept on, and hid the plain.
Now front to front the hostile armies stand,
Eager of fight, and only wait command;
When, to the van, before the sons of fame 25
Whom Troy sent forth, the beauteous Paris came,
In form a God! the panther’s speckled hide
Flow’d o’er his armour with an easy pride,
His bended bow across his shoulders flung,
His sword beside him negligently hung, 30

Ver, 18.] He has suppressed a simple comparison of his origi-

nal, which Hobbes does not represent amiss :
As when upon the mountains lies a mist,
Which to a stone’s cast limiteth the eye. W.

5
BOOK III. HOMER’s ILIAD. 129

Two pointed spears he shook with gallant grace,

And dared the bravest of the Grecian race.
As thus, with glorious air and proud disdain,
He boldly stalk’d, the foremost on the plain,
Him Menelaiis, loved of Mars, espies, 35
With heart elated, and with joyful eyes:
So joys a lion, if the branching deer
Or mountain goat, his bulky prize, appear;

Ver. 33.] For these, four lines his author literally had said:
Him when the warlike Menelats view’d
Advancing iin the front with lofty step. W.
Ver. 37. So joys a lion, if the branching deer, Or mountain
goat.) The old scholiasts refining on this simile, will have it, that
Paris is compared to a goat on account of his incontinence, and to a
stag for his cowardice: to this last they make an addition which is
very ludicrous, that he is also likened to a deer for his skzll in music,
and cite Aristotle to prove that animal delights in harmony, which
opinion is alluded to by Mr. Waller in these lines:
Here Love takes stand, and while she charms the ear
Empties his quiver on the listening deer.
But upon the whole, it is whimsical to imagine this comparison
consists in any thing more, than the joy which Menelaiis conceived
at the sight of his rival, in the hopes of destroying him. It is
equally an injustice to Paris, to abuse him for understanding musick,
and to represent his retreat as purely the effect of fear, which
proceeded from his sense of guilt with respect to the particular per-
son of Menelaiis. He appeared at the head of the army to chal-
lenge the boldest of the enemy: nor is his character elsewhere in
the Iliad by any means that of a coward. Hector at the end of
the sixth book confesses, that no man could justly reproach him as
such. Nor is he represented so by Ovid (who copied Homer
very closely) in the end of his epistle to Helen. The moral of
Homer is much finer: a brave mind, however blinded with passion,
is serisible of remorse as soon as the injured object presents itself; and
Paris never behaves himself ill in war, but when his spirits are de-
pressed by the consciousness of an injustice. This also will account
for the seeming incongruity of Homer in this passage, who (as they
would have us think) paints him a shameful coward, at the same
time that he is perpetually calling him the divine Paris, and Parts
mon, 1. K
190 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK ΠΗ.
Eager he seizes and devours the slain,
Prest by bold youths, and baying dogs in vain. 40
Thus fond of vengeance, with a furious bound,
In clanging arms he leaps upon the ground
From his high chariot : him, approaching near,
The beauteous champion views with marks of fear;
Smit with a conscious sense, retires behind, 45
And shuns the fate he well deserved to find.
As when some shepherd, from the rustling trees,
Shot forth to view, a scaly serpent sees ;
Trembling and pale, he starts with wild affright,
And all confused precipitates his flight: 50
So from the King the shining warrior flies,
And plunged amid the thickest Trojans lies.
As god-like Hector sees the prince retreat,
He thus upbraids him with a generous heat.
like a God. What he says immediately afterwards, in answer to
Hector’s reproof, will make this yet more clear. P.
Ver. 46.] This condemnation of Paris is not in Homer. W.
Ver. 53. As god-like Hector.| This is the first place of the
poem where Hector makes a figure, and here it seems proper to
give an idea of his character, since if he is not the chief hero of the
Iliad, he is at least the most amiable. There are several reasons
which render Hector a favourite character with every reader, some
of which shall here be offered. The chief moral of Homer was
to expose the ill effects of discord ; the Greeks were to be shown
disunited, and to render that disunion the more probable, he has
designedly given them mizxt characters. The Trojans, on the other
hand, were to be represented making all advantages of the others”
disagreement, which they could not do without a strict union
among themselves. Hector, therefore; who commanded them,
must be endued with all such qualifications as tended to the pre-
servation of it; as Achilles with such as promoted the contrary.
The one stands, in contrast to the other, an accomplished character
of valour unruffled by rage and anger, and uniting his people by
his prudence and example. Hector has also a foil to set him off
BOOK III, HOMER’s ILIAD. 131

Unhappy Paris! but to women brave ! 55

So fairly form’d, and only to deceive !
Oh hadst thou died when first thou saw’st the light,
Or died at least before thy nuptial rite!
.A better fate than vainly thus to boast,
And fly, the scandal of thy Trojan host. 60
Gods! how the scornful Greeks exult to see
Their fears of danger undeceived in thee ;
Thy figure promised with a martial air,
But ill thy soul supplies a form so fair.
In former days, in all thy gallant pride, 65
When thy tall ships triumphant stemm’d the tide,

in his own family ;we are perpetually opposing in our own minds
the incontinence of Paris, who exposes his country, to the tem-
perance of Hector, who protects it. And indeed it is this love of
his country, which appears his principal passion, and the motive
of all his actions. He has no other blemish than that he fights in
an unjust cause, which Homer has yet been careful to tell us he
would not do, if his opinion were followed. But since he cannot
prevail, the affection he bears to his parents and kindred, and his
desire of defending them, incites him to do his utmost for their
safety. We may add, that Homer having so many Greeks to cele-
brate, makes them shine in their turns, and singly in their several
books, one succeeding in the absence of another: whereas Hector
appears in every battle the life and soul of his party, and the con-
stant bulwark against every enemy: he stands against Agamemnon’s
magnanimity, Diomed’s bravery, Ajax’s strength, and Achilles’s
fury. There is besides an accidental cause for our liking him,
from reading the writers of the Augustan age (especially Virgil)
whose favourite he grew more particularly from the time when the
Cesars fancied to derive their pedigree from Troy. P:
Ver. 65.] He has amplified, by animated additions of his own,
four verses of the original into ezght. Travers is properly com-
pressed:
Was this thy valour, when thy pompous oars
Through foreign seas explored the Spartan shores?
K 2
132 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK lil.

When Greece beheld thy painted canvas flow,

And crowds stood wondering at the passing show ;
Say, was it thus, with such a baffled mien,
You met the’ approaches of the Spartan queen, 70
Thus from her realm convey’d the beauteous prize,
And *both herwarlike lords outshined in Helen’s eyes?
This deed, thy foes’ delight, thy own disgrace,
Thy father’s grief, and ruin of thy race :
This deed recalls thee to the proffer’d fight; 75
Or hast thou injured whom thou darest not right ?
Soon to thy cost the field would make thee know
Thou keep’st the consort of a braver foe.
Thy graceful form instilling soft desire,
Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre, 80
Beauty and youth ; in vain to these you trust,
When youth and beauty shall be laid in dust:

When thou and thy allies with impious pride

Of two brave heroes stole the beauteous bride? _ Ww.
Ver. 75.] He shows his author in disguise, who may be better
seen in Travers:
Yet now thou darest not bid thy warlike sword
Meet the just anger of her injured lord. W.
Ver. 80. Thy curling tresses, and thy silver lyre.] It is ingeni-
ously remarked by Dacier, that Homer, who celebrates the Greeks
for their long hair and Achilles for his skill on the harp, makes
Hector in this place object them both to Paris. The Greeks
nourished their hair to appear more dreadful to the enemy, and
Paris to please the eyes of women. Achilles sung to his harp the
acts of heroes, and Paris the amours of lovers. The same reason
which makes Hector here displeased at them, made Alexander
afterwards refuse to see this lyre of Paris, when offered to be shown
to him, as Plutarch relates the story in his oration of the fortune of
Alexander. τῇ
* Theseus and Menelaus.
 BOOK III. HOMER’s ILIAD. 133
Troy yet may wake, and one avenging blow
Crush the dire author of his country’s woe.
His silence here, with blushes, Paris breaks; 85
Tis just, my brother, what your anger speaks :
But who like thee can boast a soul sedate,
So firmly proof to all the shocks of fate ?
Thy force, like steel, a temper’d hardness shows,
Still edged to wound, and still untired with blows ;
Like steel uplifted by some strenuous swain, 91
With falling woods to strew the wasted plain.
Thy gifts I praise; nor thou despise the charms
With which a lover golden Venus arms ;
Soft moving speech, and pleasing outward show, 95
No wish can gain ’em, but the Gods bestow.
Yet, would’st thou have the proffer’d combat stand, °
The Greeks and Trojans seat on either hand;
Then let a mid-way space our hosts divide,
And on that stage of war the cause be tried: 100

Ver. 83. One avenging blow.] It isin the Greek, You had been
clad in a coat of stone. Giphanius would have it to mean stoned to
death on the account of his adultery: but this does not appear to
have been the punishment of that crime among the Phrygians.
It seems rather to signify, destroyed by the fury of the people, for
the war he had brought upon them ; or perhaps may imply no more
than being laid in his grave under a monument of stones ; but the
former being the stronger sense, is here followed.
To understand this expression of sepulture under a monument of
stone seems more obvious and natural, and much preferable indeed
to the quaintness and affectation of the more common interpreta-
tion: which Lycophron, however, vindicates, who imitates this
passage in ver. 333 of his Cassandra.
A vest of showering stones will thee enclose. WwW.
Ver. 93.] Hedrops an idea of his author. Odgilby is good:
Whose edge rebates not with the ponderous strokes
Of the strong ship-wright cleaving knotty oaks. Ww.
194. HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK 11.

By Paris there the Spartan King be fought,

For beauteous Helen and the wealth she brought ;
And who his rival can in arms subdue,
His be the fair, and his the treasure too.
Thus with a lasting league your toils may cease, 105
And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace;
Thus may the Greeks review their native shore,
Much fam’d for generous steeds, for beauty more.
He said. The challenge Hector heard with
Joy:
Then with his spear restrain’d the youth of Troy,
Held by the midst, athwart ; and near the foe 111 |
Advanced with steps majestically slow:
While round his dauntless head the Grecians pour
Their stones and arrows in a mingled shower.
Then thus the monarch great Atrides cried; 115 |
Forbear ye warriors! lay the darts aside:
A parley Hector asks, a message bears;
We know him by the various plume he wears.
Awed by his high command the Greeks attend,
The tumult silence, and the fight suspend. 120
While from the centre Hector rolls his eyes
On either host, and thus to both applies.

Ver. 109. The challenge Hector heard with joy.| Hector

stays not to reply to his brother, but runs away with the challenge
immediately. He looks upon all the Trojans as disgraced by the
late flight of Paris, and thinks not a moment is to be lost to re-
gain the honour of his country. The activity he shows in all this
affair wonderfully agrees with the spirit of a soldier. - ἫΝ
Ver. 113.] Homer says literally:
Their bows at him the long-hair’d Greeks direct,
Their arrows aiming; and assail with stones. W.
Ver. 121.] This pompous couplet is amplified, very unseason-
 BOOK Π1. HOMER’s ILIAD. 135

Hear, all ye Trojans, all ye Grecian bands!

What Paris, author of the war, demands.
Your shining swords within the sheath restrain, 125
And pitch your lances in the yielding plain.
Here in the midst, in either army’s sight,
He dares the Spartan King to single fight ;
And wills, that Helen and the ravish’d spoil
That caused the contest, shall reward the toil. 130
Let these the brave triumphant victor grace,
And differing nations part in leagues of peace.
He spoke : in still suspense on either side
Each army stood: the Spartan chief replied. _
Me too, ye warriors, hear, whose fatal right 135
A world engages in the toils of fight,

_ ably, from two or three plain words of the original; thus fully
represented by Chapman:
And Hector spake to both the hosts. Ww.
Ver. 123. Hear all ye. Trojans, all ye Grecian bands.| It has
been asked how the different nations could understand one another
in these conferences, since we have no mention in Homer of any
interpreter between them? He who was so very particular in the
most minute points, can hardly be thought to have been negligent
in this. Some reasons may be offered that they both spoke the
same language; for the ‘Trojans (as may be seen in Dion. Halic.
lib. i.) were of Grecian extraction originally. Dardanus the first
of their kings was born in Arcadia; and even their names were
originally Greek, as Hector, Anchises, Andromache, Astyanax
&c. Of the last of these in particular, Homer gives us a deriva-
tion which is purely Greek, in 1], vi, ver. 403. But however it
be, this is no more (as Dacier somewhere observes) than the just
privilege of Poetry. Aineas and Turnus understand each other in
Virgil, and the language of the poet is supposed to be universally
intelligible, not only between different countries, but between earth
and heaven itself, Ρ,
Ver. 125.] For this couplet his author has one line only:
Lay down your armour on the’ all-nurturing earth. W.
1
136 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK LI:
To me the labour of the field resign; .
Me Paris injured ; all the war be mine.
Fall he that must beneath his rival’s arms ;
And live the rest, secure of future harms. 140
Two lambs, devoted by your country’s rite,
To Earth a sable, to the Sun a white, ©
Prepare ye Trojans! while a third we bring
Select to Jove, the’ inviolable King.
Let reverend Priam in the truce engage, 145
And add the sanction of considerate age.
His sons are faithless, headlong in debate,
And youth itself an empty wavering state:

Ver. 135.] These four verses bear no sort of resemblance to the

original ; and for this deviation I can frame no good apology in be-
half of our poet, because the sense is not ill represented either by
Chapman or Ogilby. ‘The reader will be glad to see a clear and
neat exhibition a Homer’s sense by Mr. Cowper :
Hear now me also, on whose aching heart
These woes have heaviest fallen. At last I hope
Decision near, Trojans and Greeks between ;
For ye have suffer'd in my quarrel much,
And much by Paris, author of the war. W.
Ver. 141, Two lambs devoted.| The Trojans (says the old
scholiast) were required to sacrifice two lambs ; one male of a white
colour, to the sun, and one female, and black, to the earth; as
the sun is father of light, and the earth the mother and nurse of
men. The Greeks were to offer a third to Jupiter, perhaps to
Jupiter Xenius, because the Trojans had broke the laws of hospi~
tality: on which account we find Menelaiis afterwards invoking
him in the combat with Paris, That these were the powers to
which they sacrificed, appears by their being attested by name im
the oath, ver. 346, &c. P.
Ver. 147 ] The phrase “ headlong in debate,” is a most fri-
volous and impertinent accommodation to the rhyme. He might
have written :
His sons are faithless, headlong, wnsedate. Ww.
 BOOK III. HOMER’s ILIAD. 137

Cool age advances venerably wise,

Turns on all hands its deep-discerning eyes; - 150
Sees what befel, and what may yet befall,
Concludes from both, and best provides for all.
The nations hear, with rising hopes possest,
And peaceful prospects dawn in every breast. .
Within the lines they drew their steeds around, 155
And from their chariots issued on the ground:
Next all unbuckling the rich mail they wore,
Laid their bright arms along the sable shore.
On either side the meeting hosts are seen
With lances fix’d, and close the space between. 160
Two heralds now, dispatch’d to Troy, invite
The Phrygian monarch to the peaceful rite ;
Talthybius hastens to the fleet, to bring
The lamb for Jove, the’ inviolable King.
Mean time, to beauteous Helen, from the skies 165
The various goddess of the rainbow flies :

Ver. 165, Mean time to beauteous Helen, &c.] The following

part, where we have the first sight of Helena, is what I cannot
think infericr to any in the poem. The reader has naturally an
aversion to this pernicious beauty, and is apt enough to wonder at
the Greeks for endeavouring to recover her at such an expence.
- But her amiable behaviour here, the secret wishes that rise in favour
of her rightful Lord, her tenderness for her parents and relations,
the relentings of her soul for the mischiefs her beauty had
been the cause of, the confusion she appears in, the veiling her
face, and dropping a tear; are particulars so beautifully natural, as
to make every reader, no less than Menelaiis himself, inclined to for-
give her at least if not tolove her. Weare afterwards confirmed
in this partiality by the sentiment of the old counsellors upon the
sight of lier, which one would think Homer put into their mouths
with that very view: we excuse her no more than Priam does him-
self, and all those do who felt the calamities she occasioned: and
this regard for her is heightened by all she says herself; in which
4
138 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK ΠῚ.

(Like fair Laodicé in form and face,

The loveliest nymph of Priam’s royal race)
Her in the palace, at her loom she found ;
The golden web her own sad story crown’d. 170
The ‘Trojan wars she weaved (herself the prize)
And the dire triumphs of her fatal eyes.
To whom the goddess of the painted bow ;
Approach, and view the wonderous scene below !
Each hardy Greek, and valiant Trojan knight, 175
So dreadful late, and furious for the fight,
Now rest their spears, or lean upon their shields ;
Ceased is the war, and silent all the fields.
Paris alone and Sparta’s king advance,
In single fight to toss the beamy lance ; 180
Each, met in arms, the fate of combat tries,
Thy love the motive, and thy charms the prize.
This said, the many-colour’d maid inspires.
Her husband’s love, and wakes her former fires;
Her country, parents, all that once were dear, 185
Rush to her thought, and force a tender tear.
O’er her fair face a snowy veil she threw,
And, softly sighing, from the loom withdrew.
Her handmaids Clymené and γα wait
Her silent footsteps to the Sceean gate. 190
there is scarce a word, that is not big with repentance and good-
nature. :
Ver. 170. The golden web her own sad story crown’d.| This is
a very agreeable fiction, to represent Helena weaving in a large veil,
or piece of tapestry, the‘story of the Trojan war. One would think
that Homer inherited this veil, and that his Iliad is only an ex-
plication of that admirable piece of art. Dacier. R
Thus his original, literally:
She a large web was weaving double bright. WwW.
BOOK 1Π HOMER’s ILIAD 139

There sat the seniors of the Trojan race,

(Old Priam’s chiefs, and most in Priam’s grace)
The King the first ;Thycetes at his side;
Lampus and Clytius, long in council tried;
Panthus, and Hicetaon, once the strong; 195
And next, the wisest of the reverend throng,
Antenor grave, and sage Ucalegon,
Lean’d on the walls, and bask’d before the sun.
Chiefs, who no more in bloody fights engage,
But wise through time, and narrative with age, 200
In summer days, like grasshoppers rejoice,
A bloodless race, that send a feeble voice.
These, when the Spartan queen approach’d the tower,
In secret own’d resistless beauty’s power :
They cried, No wonder, such celestial charms 205
For nine long years have set the world in arms !
What winning graces! what majestic mien!
She moves a Goddess, and she looks a Queen!
Yet hence, oh heaven! convey that fatal face,
And from destruction save the Trojan race. 210
The good old Priam welcomed her, and cried,
Approach, my child, and grace thy father’s side.
See on the plain thy Grecian spouse appears,
The friends and kindred of thy former years.
No crime of thine our present sufferings draws, 215
Not thou, but Heaven’s disposing will the cause;

Ver. 201.] Homer himself has annexed to these grasshoppers

no epithet, but Dacier calls them “ foibles, et presque dénuées de
sang;” mindful, I presume, of that most elegant ode to the
᾿ς grasshopper in Anacreon. And our translator’s model adds _sitting
on atree; and it is well known that the cicada is a larger insect
than our grasshopper, and of different modes of living. W.
 140 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK III.

The Gods these armies and this force employ,

The hostile Gods conspire the fate of Troy.
But lift thy eyes, and say, What Greek is he
(Far as from hence these aged orbs can see) 220
Around whose brow such martial graces shine,
So tall, so awful, and almost divine ?
Though some of larger stature tread the green,
None match his grandeur and exalted mien :
He seems a monarch and his country’s pride. 225
Thus ceased the King, and thus the fair replied.
Before thy presence, Father, I appear
With conscious shame and reverential fear.
Ah! had I died, ere to these walls I fled,
False to my country, and my nuptial bed; 230
Ver. 219. And say, What chief is he?] This view of the
Grecian leaders from the walls of Troy, is justly looked upon as
an episode of great beauty, as well as a master-piece of conduct in
Homer ; who by this means acquaints the readers with the figure
and qualifications of each hero in a more lively and agreeable man-
ner. Several great poets have been engaged by the beauty of this
passage to an imitation of it. In the seventh book of Statius, Phor-
bas standing with Antigone on the tower of Thebes, shews her the
forces as they were drawn up, and describes their commanders,
who were neighbouring princes of Beotia. It is also imitated by
Tasso in his third book, where Erminia from the walls of Jerusa-
lem points out the chief warriors to the king; though the latter
part is perhaps copied too closely and minutely ; for he describes
Godfrey to be of a port that bespeaks hima prince, the next of
somewhat a lower stature, a third renowned for his wisdom, and
then another is distinguished by the largeness of his chest and
breadth of his shoulders: which are not only the very particulars,
‘but in ‘the very order of Homer’s. P.
The ‘original runs literally thus :
Tell me by name that man of ample bulk ;
Which of the Greeks he is, so broad and tall:
out of which our poet has wrought these four verses, with some
assistance from Dacier. dans Ww.
BOOK ΠῚ. HOMER’s ILIAD. 141

My brothers, friends, and daughter left behind,

False to them all, to Paris only kind !
For this I mourn, till grief or dire disease
Shall waste the form whose crime it was to please!
The King of Kings, Atrides, you survey, 235
Great in the war, and great in arts of sway:
My brother once, before my days of shame;
And oh! that still he bore a brother’s name!
With wonder Priam view’d the god-like man,
Extoll’d the happy Prince, and thus began. 240
O blest Atrides! born to prosperous fate,
Successful monarch of a mighty state!
How vast thy empire! Of yon’ matchless train
What numbers lost, what numbers yet remain !
In Phrygia once were gallant armies known, 94
In ancient time, when Otreus fill’d the throne,
When god-like Mygdon led their troops of horse.
And I, to join them, raised the Trojan force:
Against the manlike Amazens we stood,
And Sangar’s stream ran purple with their blood. 250

Ver. 233 .] The precise sense of his autho? he might easily

have transferred thus:
——Yet I alas!
Died not, and therefore waste myself in tears. W.
Ver. 236. Great in the war, and great in arts of sway.) This
was the verse which Alexander the Great preferred to all others in
Homer, and which he proposed as the pattern of his own actions,
as including whatever can be desired in a prince. Plut, Orat. de
fort. Alex. 1. P.
Ver. 238.] The sense of the original, if I rightly conceive
it, may be properly represented thus:
My brother onee, if I may use that name ! W.
140 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK 111.

But far inferior those in martial grace

And strength of numbers to this Grecian race.
This said, once more he view’d the warrior- train :
What’s he, whose arms lie scatter’d on the plain ?
Broad is his breast, his shoulders larger spread, 255
Though great Atrides overtops his head.
Nor yet appear his care and conduct small;
From rank to rank he moves, and orders all.
The stately ram thus measures o’er the ground,
And, master of the flock surveys them round. 260
Then Helen thus. Whom your discerning eyes
Have singled out, is Ithacus the wise :
A barren island boasts his glorious birth ἢ
His fame for wisdom fills the spacious earth.
Antenor took the word, and thus began: 265
Myself, O king! have seen that wonderous man ;
When trusting Jove and hospitable laws,
To Troy he came to plead the Grecian cause;
(Great Menelaiis urged the same request) Ὁ
My house was honour’d with each royal guest: 270
Ver. 251.] The first edition has, in manly grace. And Ho-
mer says only: -
Nor these so numerous, as the quick-eyed Greeks. W.
Ver. 259.] Travers has done this couplet much better:
He, like the ram amidst his fleecy train,
_ Runs through the ranks, and orders all the plain:
though he should have written: Stalks through the ranks. W.
Ver. 265.] He omits a line of his original, and is exceedingly
unfaithful. Thus Travers:
His silence here the grave Antenor broke:
’Tis true, ΟἹ Helen, what your praises spoke.
Greece did Ulysses and thy prince employ,
Sent in thy cause her delegates to Troy. W.
 BOOK III. HOMER’s ILIAD. 143

I knew their persons and admired their parts,

Both brave in arms, and both approved in arts.
Erect, the Spartan most engaged our view;
Ulysses, seated, greater reverence drew.
When Atreus’ son harangued the listening train, 275
Just was his sense, and his expression plain,
His words succinct, yet full, without a fault;
He spoke no more than just the thing he ought.
Ver. 271. I knew their persons, &c.] In this view of the leaders
of the army, it had been an oversight in Homer to have taken no
notice of Menelaiis, who was not only one of the principal of
them, but was immediately to engage the observation of the reader
in the single combat. On the other hand, it had been a high inde-
corum to have made Helena speak of him. He has therefore put his
praises into the mouth of Antenor: which was also a more artful
way than to have presented him to the eye of Priam in the same
manner with the rest: it appears from hence, what a regard he has
had both to decency and variety in the conduct of his poem.
This passage concerning the different eloquence of Menelaiis and
Ulysses is inexpressibly just and beautiful. The close laconick con-
ciseness of the one, is finely opposed to the copious, vehement, and
penetrating oratory of the other; which is so exquisitely described
in the simile of the snow falling fast, and sinking deep. For it is
in this the beauty of the comparison consists, according to Quin-
tilian, 1. xii.c. 10. In Ulysse facundiam & magnitudinem junait,
qui oratienem nivibus hybernis copia verborum atque impetu parem
tribuit. We may set in the same light with these the character of
Nestor’s eloguence, which consisted in softness and persuasiveness,
and is therefore (in contradistinction to this of Ulysses) compared
to honey which drops gently and slowly ; a manner of speech ex-
tremely natural to a benevolent old man, such as Nestor is repre-
sented. Ausonius has elegantly distinguished these three kinds of
oratory in the following verses :
“ς Dulcem in paucis ut Plisthenidem
« Et torrentem ceu Dulichii
“« Ningida dicta:
« Et mellite nectare vocis
«€ Dulcia fatu verba canentem
“« Nestora regem.”
144. HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK ΠΥ.
But when Ulysses rose, in thought profound,
His modest eyes he fix’d upon the ground; 280
As one unskill’d or dumb, he seem’d to stand,
Nor raised his head, nor stretch’d his sceptred
| hand.
But, when he speaks, what elocution flows!
Soft as the fleeces of descending snows
The copious accents fall, with easy art ; 285
Melting they fall, and sink into the heart!
Wondering we hear, and, fix’d in deep surprise,
Our ears refute the censure of our eyes.

Ver. 282.] Mr. Cowper has dexterously exhibited this difficult

passage of his original, which our poet would not attempt:
That, hadst thou seen him, thou hadst thought him, sure,
Some chafed and angry idiot, passion-fixt.
Ver. 284.] It is plain from the stupid silence just described, that
ἃ contrast was intended; and that our poet and the other translators,
who turn the comparison to a melting softness, have misappre-
hended its force and beauty. Travers’ translation, with a little
correction as follows, is, in my opinion, excellent :
But, when his artful prudence to disclose,
Up from his seat the sage Ulysses rose,
His stedfast eyes he fixt upon the ground,
Nor rear’d his hand, nor waved his sceptre round :
But like the form of stupid dulness stood,
Or madness thoughtful in his sullen mood :
Yet from his breast his powerful accents flow
Thick and impetuous, as the wintry snow.
So- Quintilian, quoted by Clarke, conceived the passage, xi. 3.
«¢ Mire auditurum dicturi cura delectat.—Hoc precipit Homerus,
« Ulyssis exemplo, quem stetisse oculis in terram defixis, immoto-
*‘ que sceptro, priusquam illam eloquentie procellam effunderet,
ἐς dicit:” before he poured out that storm of eloquence. W.
Ver. 288.] This is one of those noble additions, in the ardour
of enthusiasm, which exalts the translator to the rank of his origi-
nal, and compensates a thousand imperfections, Compare Od. iii.
153. : W.
BOOK Itt. HOMER’s ILIAD. 145
The king then ask’d (as yet the camp he view’d)
What chief is that, with giant strength endued, 290
Whose brawny shoulders, and whose swelling
chest,
And lofty stature, far exceed the rest ?
Ajax the great (the beauteous queen replied)
Himself a host : the Grecian strength and pride.
See! bold Idomeneus superior towers 295
Amidst yon circle of his Cretan powers,
Great as a God! I saw him once before,
With Menelaiis, on the Spartan shore.
The rest I know, and could in order name;
All valiant chiefs, and men of mighty fame. 300
Yet two are wanting of the numerous train,
Whom long my eyes have sought, but sought in vain ;
Castor and Pollux, first in martial force,
One bold on foot, and one renown’d for horse.
My brothers these ; the same our native shore; 305
One house contain’d us, as one mother bore.
Perhaps the chiefs, from warlike toils at ease,
For distant Troy refused to sail the seas:

Ver. 289.] It were easy to have expressed his original thus:

The king then ask’d, great Ajax as he viewed—. Ww.
- Ver. 297.] He adheres very little to his author, when there
Goes not appear the least inducement to deviations Thus Travers :
Our seat would oft that royal guest detain, |
When he from Crete to Sparta crost the maim. Ww.
Ver. 304.] Mr. Cowper renders faithfully:
for equestrian skill
One famed, and one a boxer never foil’d. Ww.
- Ver. 307.] We see but little of Homer here, which is the
more to be wondered. at, when Hobbes and Chapman have very
elearly exhibited the sense of their author. Thus Travers:
VOL, I. L
146 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK (IIL.

Perhaps their swords some nobler quarrel draws,

Ashamed to combat in their sister’s cause. 310
So spoke the fair, nor knew her brothers’ doom,
Wrapt in the cold embraces of the tomb ;
Adorn’d with honours in their native shore,
Silent they slept, and. heard of wars no more. 314
Meantime the heralds, through the crowded town,
Bring the rich wine and destined victims down.
Idzeus’ arms the golden goblets prest,
Who thus the venerable king addrest.
Arise, O father of the ‘Trojan state!
The nations call, thy joyful people wait 320
‘To seal the truce, and end the dire debate.
Paris thy son, and Sparta’s king advance,
In measured lists to toss the weighty lance ;
And who his rival shall in arms subdue,
His be the dame, and his the treasure too. 325
Thus with a lasting league our toils may cease,
And Troy possess her fertile fields in peace;
So shall the Greeks review their native shore,
Much famed for generous steeds, for beauty more.
Perhaps, the chiefs from Sparta’s lovely plan - ©
Spread not their sails along the stormy main ;
Or now refuse disgraceful arms to wield,
Forced by my shame to fly the’ inglorious field. W.
Ver. 311.] These four verses are imagined from two of his
author, thus, word for word:
She said ; but earth, life-giving, held them now
In Lacedemon, their dear native land.
Ver. 316.] Travers keeps close to his author :
Two votive lambs, a goat’s distended skin,
τ Whose, bulk inclosed the sacred wine within. Ww.
Ver. 320.] How easily he might have been faithful here!
~The Grecians call, thy Trojan subjects wait. W.
“BOOK IIL. HOMER’s ILIAD. 147
With grief he heard, and bade the chiefs prepare
To join the milk-white coursers to the car : 329
He mounts the seat, Antenor at his side;
The gentle steeds through Sczea’s gates they guide:
Next from the car descending on the plain,
Amid the Grecian host and Trojan train 335
Slow they proceed; the sage Ulysses then
Arose, and with him rose the King of men.
On either side a sacred herald stands,
The wine they mix, and on each monarch’s hands
Pour the full urn; then draws the Grecian lord 340
His cutlace sheath’d beside his ponderous sword;
From the sign’d victims crops the curling hair,
The heralds part it, and the princes share;
Then loudly thus before the’ attentive bands
He calls the Gods, and spreads his lifted hands. 345
O first and greatest power! whom all obey,
Who high on Ida’s holy mountain sway,
Eternal Jove! and you bright orb that roll
From east to west, and view from pole to pole!
Thou mother Earth! and all ye living floods! 350
Infernal Furies, and Tartarean gods,

Ver. 340.] This is a strange blunder, or at least an inexcusable

ambiguity, into which Ogilby may have led him:
and wine commix’d with wine
Pour on the princes’ hands.
Thus Travers very properly :
With that the warriors of Laértes’ line
Rose with the king, the heralds mix’d the wine:
Near to the kings the sacred heralds drew,
And o’er their hands the ritual water threw. . Ww.
L2
148 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Itt.

Who rule the dead, and horrid woes prepare

For perjured kings, and all who falsely swear !
Hear, and be witness. If, by Paris slain,
Great Menelaiis press the fatal plain, 355
The dame and treasures let the Trojan keep;
And Greece returning plow the watery deep.
If by my brother’s lance the Trojan bleed;
Be his the wealth and beauteous dame decreed :
The’ appointed fine let Ilion justly pay, 360
And every age record the signal day.
This if the Phrygians shall refuse to yield,
Arms must revenge, and Mars decide the field.
With that the chief the tender victims slew ;
And in the dust their bleeding bodies threw: 365
The vital spirit issued at the wound, |
And left the members quivering on the ground.
From the same urn they drink the mingled. wine,
And add libations to the powers divine.
While thus their prayers united mount the sky: 370
Hear, mighty Jove! and hear ye gods on high!
And may their blood, who first the league confound,
Shed like this wine, distain the thirsty ground ;

Ver. 364. The chief the tender victims slew.] One of the grand
objections which the ignorance of some moderns has raised against
Homer, is what they call a defect in the manners of his heroes:
They are shocked to find his kings employed in such offices as
slaughtering of beasts, &c. But they forget that sacrificing was
the most solemn act of religion, and that kings of old in most
nations were also chief-priests. This, among other objections of
the same kind, the reader may see answered im the preface. P..
Ver. 372.] Homer says only:
May, like this wine, their brains bedew the.ground. W..
 BOOK 1Π.᾿ HOMER’s ILIAD. 149
May all their consorts serve promiscuous lust,
And all their race be scatter’d as the dust ! 375
Thus either host their imprecations join’d,
Which Jove refused, and mingled with the wind.
The rites now finish’d, reverend Priam rose,
And thus express’d a heart o’ercharged with woes.
Ye Greeks and Trojans, let the chiefs engage, 380
But spare the weakness of my feeble age:
In yonder walls that object let me shun,
Nor view the danger of so dear a son.
Whose arms shall conquer, and what prince shall fall,
Heaven only knows, for Heaven disposes all. 385
This said, the hoary king no longer staid,
But on his car the slaughter’d victims laid ;
Then seized the reins his gentle steeds to guide,
And drove to Troy, Antenor at his side.
Bold Hector and Ulysses now dispose 390
The lists of combat, and the ground inclose ;
Next to decide by sacred lots prepare,
Who first shall launch his pointed spear in air.
The people pray with elevated hands, 894
And words like these are heard through all the bands.
Immortal Jove, high heaven’s superior lord,
On lofty Ida’s holy mount ador’d!
Whoe’er involved us in this dire debate,
Oh give that author of the war to fate
And shades eternal! let division cease, 400
And joyful nations join in leagues of peace.

Ver. 378, 9.] The original is simply,

’Midst them spake Priam, son of Dardanus, Ww.
150 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK. ΠΥ.

With eyes averted Hector hastes to turn’

The lots of fight, and shakes the brazen urn.
Then, Paris, thine leap’d forth ; by fatal chance
Ordain’d the first to whirl the weighty lance. 405
Both armies sat the combat to survey,
Beside each chief his azure armour lay,
And round. the lists the generous coursers neigh.
The beauteou. warrior now arrays for fight,
In gilded arms magnificently bright : 410
The purple cuishes clasp his thighs around,
With flowers adorn’d, with silver buckles bound:
Lycaon’s corslet his fair body drest,
Braced in, and fitted to his softer breast ;
A radiant baldric, o’er his shoulder tied, 415
Sustain’d.his sword that. glitter’d at his side :.
His youthful face a polish’d helm o’erspread;
The waving horse-hair nodded on his head;
His figured shield, a shining orb, he takes,
And in his hand a pointed javelin shakes. 420
With equal speed, and fired by equal charms,
The Spartan hero sheaths his limbs in arms.
Now round the lists the’ admiring armies stand,.
With javelins fix’d, the Greek and Trojan band.

Ver. 409.] The following version of the first two lines of this
passage is literal :
Illustrious Paris, fair-hair’d Helen’s spouse,
Straight round his shoulders threw his beauteous arms. W.
Ver. 423.] Our poet pays but little attention to his author, who
may be seen more clearly in Travers’ translation:
Thus arm’d and frowning with a fierce disdain,
March’d the two chiefs amidst the fatal plain :
A deep suspense, as each advanced along,
Sate in the eyes of all the gazing throng.
BOOK III. HOMER’s ILIAD. 151

Amidst the dreadful vale the chiefs advance, 425

All pale with rage, and shake the threatening lance.
The Trojan first his shining javelin threw ;
Full on Atrides’ ringing shield it flew,
Nor pierced the brazen orb, but with a bound
Leap’d from the buckler, blunted on the ground. 430
Atrides then his massy lance prepares,
In act to throw, but first prefers his prayers.
Give me, great Jove! to punish lawless lust,
And lay the Trojan gasping in the dust :
Destroy the’ aggressor, aid my righteous cause, 435
Avenge the breach of hospitable laws!
Let this example future times reclaim,
And guard from wrong fair friendship’s holy name.
He said, and poised in air the javelin sent,
Through Paris’ shield the forceful weapon went, 440
His corslet pierces, and his garment rends,
And glancing downward, near his flank descends.
The wary Trojan, bending from the blow,
Eludes the death, and disappoints his foe :
But fierce Atrides waved his sword, and strook 445
Full on his casque; the crested helmet shook;

Now foe to foe their brazen javelins shook ;

Loured with revenge, and glared an angry look. W.
Ver. 427.] He should have written:
Atrides first his quivering javelin threw:
for this epithet would have conveyed an idea of length agreeably to
his author ; and in other respects been preferable to the present
word. . W.
Ver. 433. Give me, great Jove.] Homer puts a prayer in the
mouth of Menelaiis, but none in Paris’s: Menelaiis is the person
injured and innocent, and may therefore apply to God for justice ;
but Paris, who is the criminal, remains silent. Spondanus. P.
152 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK πε΄
The brittle steel, unfaithful to his hand,
Broke short : the fragments glitter'd on the sand, |
The raging warrior to the spacious skies
Raised his upbraiding voice, and angry eyes: 450
Then is it vain in Jove himself to trust?
And is it thus the Gods assist the just ?
When crimes proyoke us, Fleaven success denies :
The dart falls harmless, and the faulchion flies.
Furious he said, and toward the Grecian crew 455
(Seized by the crest) the’ unhappy warrior drew;
Struggling he follow'd, while the’ embroider’d thong,
That tied his helmet, drage’d the chief along.
Then had his ruin crown’d Atrides’ joy,
But Venus trembled for the prince of Troy: 460
Unseen she came, and burst the golden band;
And left an empty helmet in his hand.
The casque, enraged, amidst the Greeks he threw;
The Greeks with smiles the polish’d trophy view.
Then, as once more he lifts the deadly dart, 465
In thirst of vengeance, at his rival’s heart,
The queen of Love her favour'd champion shrouds
(For Gods can all things) in a veil of clouds.
Raised from the field the panting youth she led,
And gently laid him on the bridal bed, 470

Ver. 453.] Homer is better represented through this addresg

by Travers, than by our author.
Ο ! envious Jove, from thee descends my woe ;
Thou shield’st from vengeance this injurious foe.
See the sword shivers, and the fatal dart
Errs from my arm, nor wounds the traitor’s heart.
The second line should have béen:
I hoped revenge on this injugious foe, | W.
 +
BOOK IIt. HOMER’s ILIAD. 153
With pleasing sweets his fainting sense renews,
And all the dome perfumes with heavenly dews.
Meantime the brightest of the female kind,
The matchless Helen, o’er the walls reclin’d :
To her, beset with Trojan beauties, came 4.7
In borrow’d form the *laughter-loving dame.
(She seem’d an ancient maid, well-skill’d to cull
The snowy fleece, and wind the twisted wool.)

Ver. 470.] Homer says only, |

Laid in a chamber fragrant with perfumes. W.
' Ver, 475. This passage in the first edition stood thus:
To her, beset with Trojan beauties, came
In Grea’s form, the laughter-loving dame.
(Grea, her favourite maid, weli-skill’d to cull
The snowy fleece, and wind the twisted wool.)
Our poet (as Mr. STEEVENS observed to me, and to whom the
reader is wholly indebted for the curious information contained in
this note) was misled by Chapman in supposing, from an ignorance
of the language, that the Greek substantive for an old woman was a
proper name. This is Chapman’s version: .
To give her errand good successe, she took on her the shape
Of beldame Grea. :
And Chapman was misled by Arthur Hall, who printed at London
in 1581, ten books of Homer’s Iliades, translated out of French.
This is Hall’s version:
Venus, not willing to be knowne, in humaine shape ap
peares,
In Grea’s forme, the good handmaid, nowe wel ystept in
yeares.
The French translator, rendered by Hall, was “ Hugues Salel,
de la Chambre du Roy, and Abbé de Saint Cheron: 1555.”
Of this book Arthur Hall’s own copy is now in the British Mus
seum, Salel’s version of the passage before us, runs thus:
Venus avoit, pour estre descognue,
Prins ung habit humain a sa venue,
C’est de Grea, la bonne chambriere,
Bien vielle d’ans. W,
* Venus,
154 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK ΠῚ.
The Goddess softly shook her silken vest, = 479
That shed perfumes, and whispering thus addrest.
Haste, happy nymph ! for thee thy Paris calls,
Safe from the fight, in yonder lofty walls,
Fair as a God! with odours round him spread
He lies, and waits thee on the well-known bed:
Not like a warrior parted from the foe, 485°
But some gay dancer in the publick show.
She spoke, and Helen’s secret soul was movwd;
She scorn’d the champion, but the man she lovd.
Fair Venus’ neck, her eyes that sparkled fire,
And breast, reveal’d the queen of soft desire. 496
Struck with her presence, straight the lively red
Forsook her cheek ; and, trembling, thus she said.
Then is it still thy pleasure to deceive ?
And woman’s frailty alwaysto believe ?
Say, to new nations must I cross the main, 495
Or carry wars to some soft Asian plain ὃ
For whom must Helen break her second vow ?
What other Paris is thy darling now ?
Left to Atrides (victor in the strife)
An odious conquest and a captive wife, 500
Hence let me sail: and if thy Paris bear
My absence ill; let Venus ease his care.
A hand-maid goddess at his side to wait,
Renounce the glories of thy heavenly state,

ee 501.] There is nothing like this in Homer, whom Travers

has more happily exhibited:
Since now thy Paris on the fatal strand
Falls by the valour of Atrides’ hand,
Since I must hence an odious bride depart,
Comest thou insidious to seduce my heart ? : W.
7
ΒΟΟΚ 111. HOMER’s ILIAD. 155

Be fix’d for ever to the Trojan shore, 505

His spouse, or slave; and mount the skies no
more.
For me, to lawless love no longer led,
I scorn the coward, and detest his bed;
Else should I merit everlasting shame,
And keen reproach, from every Phrygian dame:
Ill suits it now the joys of love to know, 511
Too deep my anguish, and too wild my woe.
Then thus, incensed, the Paphian queen replies :
Obey the power from whom thy glories rise :
Should Venus leave thee, every charm must fly, 515
Fade from thy cheek, and languish in thy eye.
Cease to provoke me, lest I make thee more
The world’s aversion, than their love before;
Now the bright prize for which mankind engage,
Then, the sad victim of the publick rage. 520
Ver. 511.] This couplet represents four words only of his
author: “ I have innumerable sorrows in my mind.” WwW.
Ver. 513.| Our poet throughout this speech is uncommonly
inattentive to his author. Thus Travers:
To whom the goddess with an angry voice :
Urge not my wrath, lest I renounce my choice.
Should I incensed my guardian power remove,.
Should once my hate glow furious as my love ;
Soon will revenge, inspired by my commands,
Rage in the breasts of all the hostile bands:
Now to their wrath shall yield thy odious breath,
And all thy beauties shall be lost in death. Ww.
Ver. 521.] This couplet misrepresents his author, who may
be seen to advantage in Mr. Cowper; with the alteration of one.
word only :
The Goddess ceased: Jove’s daughter, Helen, fear’d:
And, in her lucid vest close wrapt around,
Silent retired, of all those Trojan dames
Unseen ; and Venus led, herself, the way. W.
 156 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK III.

At this, the fairest of her sex obey’d,

And veil’d her blushes in a silken shade;
Unseen, and silent, from the train she moves,
Led by the Goddess of the Smiles and Loves.
Arrived, and enter’d at the palace-gate, 525
The maids officious round their mistress wait ;
Then all dispersing, various tasks attend;
The queen and Goddess to the prince ascend.
Full in her Paris’ sight, the queen of Love
Had placed the beauteous progeny of Jove ; 530
Where, as he view’d her charms, she turn’d away
Her glowing eyes, and thus began to say.
Is this the chief, who lost to sense of shame
Late fled the field, and yet survives his fame ?
Oh hadst thou died beneath the righteous sword 535
Of that brave man whom once I call’d my lord!
The boaster Paris oft desired the day
With Sparta’s king to meet in single fray:
_Go now, once more thy rival’s rage excite,
Provoke Atrides, and renew the fight: 540
Yet Helen bids thee stay, lest thou unskill’d
Should’st fall an easy conquest on the field.
The prince replies; Ah cease, divinely fair,
Nor add reproaches to the wounds I bear ; »
This day the foe prevail’d by Pallas’ power; 545
We yet may vanquish in a happier hour :
There want not Gods to favour us above :
But let the business of our lives be love:

Ver. 537.] Ogilby is exact:

Thou before his thy prowess didst advance,
Thy skill, thy strength preferring, and thy launce. W.
6
BOOK IL. HOMER’s ILIAD. — 157
These softer moments let delights employ,
And kind embraces snatch the hasty joy. 550
Not thus I loved thee, when from Sparta’s shore
My forced, my willing heavenly prize I bore,

Ver. 551. -Not thus I loved thee.| However Homer may be

admired for his conduct in this passage, I find a general outcry
against Paris on this occasion. Plutarch has led the way in ‘his
treatise of reading poets, by remarking it as a most heinous act of
incontinence in him, to go to bed to his lady in the day-time.
Among the commentators the most violent is the moral expositor
Spondanus, who will not so much as allow him to say a civil thing
to Helen. Mollis, effceminatus, & spurcus ille adulter, nihil de
libidine sud tmminutum dicit, sed nunc magis e4 corripi quam un-
quam alias, ne quidem ciim primim eam ipsi dedit (Latini ita recté
exprimunt τὸ μυἱσίεσθαι in re venered) in insula Cranaé. Cum
aliogui homines primi concubitiis soleant esse ardentiores. I could
not deny the reader the diversion of this remark, nor Spondanus
_ the glory of his zeal, who was but two-and-twenty when it was
written. Madam Dacier is also very severe upon Paris, but for
a reason more natural to a lady ; she is of opinion that the passion
of the lover would scarce have been so excessive as he here describes
it, but for fear of losing his mistress immediately, as foreseeing
the Greeks. would demand her. One may answer to this lively re=
mark, that Paris having nothing to say for himself, was obliged to’
testify an uncommon ardour for his lady, at a time when compli<
ments were to pass instead of reasons. I hope to be excused, if (in
revenge of her remark upon our sex) I observe upon the behaviour
of Helen throughout this book, which gives a pretty natural picture
of the manners of theirs. We see her first in tears, repentant,
covered with confusion at the sight of Priam, and secretly inclined,
to return to her former spouse. The disgrace of Paris encreases
her dislike of him ; she rails, she reproaches, she wishes his death ;.
and after all, is prevailed upon by one kind compliment, and yields
to his embraces, Methinks when this lady’s observation and mine’
are laid together, the best that can be made of them is to conclude,
that since both the sexes have their frailties, it would be well for
each to forgive the other.
It is worth looking backward,toobserve the allegory here carried.
on with respect to Helen, who lives through this whole book in a
whirl of passions, and is agitated by turns with sentiments of
158 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK III.
When first entranced in Cranaé’s isle I lay,
Mix’d with thy soul, and all dissolved away !
Thus having spoke, the’ enamour’d Phrygian boy
Rush’d to the bed, impatient for the joy. ᾿ 556
Him Helen follow’d slow with bashful charms,
And clasp’d the blooming hero in her arms.
While these to love’s delicious rapture yield,
The stern Atrides rages round the field: ., abe

honour and love. The Goddesses made use of, to.cast the appear-
ance of fable over the story, are Iris and Venus. When Helen is
called to the tower to behold her former friends, Iris the messenger
of Juno (the Goddess of honour) is sent for her; and when in-
vited to the bed-chamber of Paris, Venus is to beckon her out of
the company. The forms they take to carry on these different
affairs, are properly chosen: the one assuming the person of the
daughter of Antenor, who pressed most for her being restored to
Menelaiis ; the other the shape of an old maid, who was privy to
the intrigue with Paris from the beginning. And in the conse-
quences, as the one inspires the love of her former empire, friends
and country: so the other instils the dread of being cast off by all
if she forsook her second choice, and causes the return of her tender-
ness to Paris. But if she has a struggle for honour, she is in a
bondage to love; which gives the story its turn that way, and makes
Venus oftener appear than Iris. There is in one place a lover to be
protected, in another a love-quarrel to be made up, in both which
the Goddess is kindly officious. She conveys Paris to Troy, when
he had escaped the enemy ; which may signify his love for his
mistress, that hurried him away to justify himself before her. She
softens and terrifies Helen, in order to make up the breach between
them: and even when that affuir is finished, we do not find the poet
dismisses her from the chamber, whatever privacies the lovers had a
mind to: in which circumstances he seems to draw aside the veilwf
his allegory, and to let the reader at lest into the meaning of it,
That the Goddess of love has been all the while nothing more than
the passion of it. P.
Ver. 559.] Our translator expatiates too freely. Thus Travers,
without omitting any thoughts of his original:
- But fierce Atrides in the field below i
Raged like a lion, for his absent foe. W.
BOOK 111. HOMER’s ILIAD. 159

So some fell lion whom the woods obey

Roars through the desart, and demands his prey.
Paris he seeks, impatient to destroy,
But seeks in vain along the troops of Troy;
Even those had yielded to a foe so brave 565
The recreant warrior, hateful as the grave.
Then speaking thus, the King of Kings arose;
Ye Trojans, Dardans, all our generous foes!
Hear and attest! from heaven with conquest crown’d,
Our brother’s arms the just success have found: 570
Be therefore now the Spartan wealth restor’d,
Let Argive Helen own her lawful lord;
The’ appointed fine let Ilion justly pay,
And age to age record this signal day.
He ceased; his army’s loud applauses rise, 575
And the long shout runs echoing through the skies.

Ver. 575.] For this couplet his original only has,

Atrides spake, and all the Greeks approved. W.
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 FOURTH BOOK
a

OF THE

BFπων Hace,
Ἂνteed),

VOL. I. M
 {2

7
 THE ARGUMENT.

THE BREACH OF THE TRUCE, AND THE FIRST BATTLE,

L'HE Gods deliberate in council concerning the Trojan war:

they agree upon the continuation of it, and Jupiter sends down
Minerva to break the truce. She persuades Pandarus to aim
an arrow at Menelaiis, who is wounded, but cured by Machaon.
In the mean time some of the Trojan Troops attack the Greeks.
Agamemnon is distinguished in all the parts of a good Ge-
neral; he reviews the troops, and exhorts the leaders, some by
praises and some by reproofs. Nestor ts particularly cele-
brated for his military discipline. The battle joins, and great
numbers are slain on both sides.
The same day continues through this, as through the last
book, (as it does also through the two following, and almost
to the end of the seventh book). Thc scene is wholly in the
field before Troy. a
 NOTE PRELIMINARY.

IT was from the beginning of this book that Virgil has taken
that of his tenth Aineid, as the whole tenor of the story in this
and the last book is followed in his twelfth. The truce and -the
solemn oath, the breach of it by a dart thrown by Tolumnius, Ju-
turna’s inciting the Latines to renew the war, the wound of Aineas,
his speedy cure, and the battle ensuing, all these are manifestly
copied from hence. The solemnity, surprise, and variety of these
circumstances, seemed to him of importance enough, to build the
whole catastrophe of his work upon them ; though in Homer they
are but openings to the general action, and such as in their
warmth are still exceeded by all that follow them. They are chosen,
we grant, by Virgil with great judgment, and conclude his poem
with a becoming majesty : yet the finishing his scheme with that
which is but the coolest part of Homer's action, tends in some de-
gree to shew the disparity of the poetical fire in these two authors.
wm
 THE

FOURTH BOOK

OF THE

1:sdlpe nde Avo.

AND now Olympus’ shining gates unfold;

The Gods, with Jove, assume their thrones of gold :
Immortal Hebé, fresh with bloom divine,
The golden goblet crowns with purple wine:
While the full bowls flow round, the powers employ
Their careful eyes on long-contending Troy. 6
When Jove, disposed to tempt Saturnia’s spleen,
Thus waked the fury of his partial queen.
Two powers divine the son of Atreus aid,
Imperial Juno, and the martial Maid : 10

Ver. 1.] The sentence may be thus literally rendered :

Now on a golden pavement in Jove’s hall
The Gods assembled sate. Ww.
Ver. 3. Immortal Hebé.| The Goddess of Youth is intro
duced as an attendant upon the banquets of the Gods, to show that
the divine Beings enjoy an eternal youth, and that their life is a
felicity without end. Dacier. P.
Ver. 9. Two powers divine.] Jupiter’s reproaching these two
Goddesses with neglecting to assist Menelaiis, proceeds (as M. Dacier
remarks) from the affection he bore to Troy: since if Menelaiis
166 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Iv.

But high in heaven they sit, and gaze from far,

The tame spectators of his deeds of war. .
Not thus fair Venus helps her favour’d knight,
The queen of pleasures shares the toils of fight,
Each danger wards, and constant in her care 15
Saves in the moment of the last despair.
Her act has rescued Paris’ forfeit life,
Though great Atrides gain’d the glorious strife.
Then say, ye powers! what signal issue waits
To crown this deed, and finish all the fates ? 20
Shall heaven by peace the bleeding kingdoms spare,
Or rouse the Furies, and awake the war?
Yet, would the Gods for human good provide,
Atrides soon might gain his beauteous bride,
Still Priam’s walls in peaceful honours grow, 25
And through his gates the crowding nations flow.
Thus while he spoke, the queen of heaven, enrag’d,
And queen of war, in close consult engag’d:
Apart they sit, their deep designs employ,
And meditate the future woes of Troy. 30
Though secret anger swell’d Minerva’s breast,
The prudent Goddess yet her wrath supprest;
But Juno, impotent of passion, broke
Her sullen silence, and with fury spoke.

by their help had gained a complete victory, the siege had been
raised, and the city delivered. On the contrary, Juno and Minerva
might suffer Paris to escape, as the method to continue the war to
the total destruction of Troy. And accordingly a few lines after
we find them complotting together, and contriving a new scene of
miseries to the Trojans. Ῥ.
Ver. 19.] Homer says literally, for this couplet, |
Let us consult upon the’ event of things. W.
BOOK IV. HOMER’s ILIAD. 167

Shall then, O tyrant of the’ ethereal reign! 35

My schemes, my labours, and my hopes be vain ?
Have I, for this, shook Ilion with alarms,
Assembled nations, set two worlds in arms ?
To spread the war, I flew from shore to shore ;
The’ immortal coursers scarce the labour bore. 40
At length ripe vengeance o’er their heads impends,
But Jove himself the faithless race defends :
Loth as thou art to punish lawless lust,
Not all the Gods are partial and unjust.
The sire whose thunder shakes the cloudy skies,
Sighs from his inmost soul, and thus replies ; 46
Oh lasting rancour ! oh insatiate hate
To Phrygia’s monarch, and the Phrygian state !
What high offence has fired the wife of Jove ?
Can wretched mortals harm the powers above, 50
That Troy and Troy’s whole race thou would’st con-
found,
And yon’ fair structures level with the ground ἢ
Haste, leave the skies, fulfil thy stern desire,
Burst all her gates, and wrap her walls in fire !
Let Priam bleed! if yet you thirst for more, 55
Bleed all his sons, and Ilion float with gore,

Ver. 37.}] He should have written,

Did I, for this, shake Tlium with alarms,
Assemble nations—:
and he has very unskilfully expanded six lines of his original into
twelve. W.
Ver. 45.] Homer employs his customary epithet of clowd-collect-
ing Jove; but Dacier has, “‘ Le maitre du tonnere.” And Ogilby
is the more true interpreter of his author :
When, much incensed, cloud-gathering Jove begun. W.
Ver. 55. Let Priam bleed, &c.] We find in Persius’s satyrs the
168 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK IV.
To boundless vengeance the wide realm be given,
Till vast destruction glut the queen of heaven!
So let it be, and Jove his peace enjoy,
When heaven no longer hears the name of Troy. 60
But should this arm prepare to wreak our hate
On thy loved realms, whose guilt demands their fate,
Presume not thou the lifted bolt to stay,
Remember Troy, and give the vengeance way.

name of Labeo, as an ill poet who made a miserable translation of

the Iliad; one of whose verses is still preserved, and happens to be
that of duisplace,
« Crudum manduces Priamum, Priamique pisinnos.”’
It may seem from this, that his translation was servilely literal (as
the old Scholiast on Persius observes). And one cannot but take
notice that Ogilby’s and Hobbes’s in this place are not unlike
Labeo’s.
Both king and people thou would’st eat alive,
And eat up Priam and his children all. Pi
Notwithstanding this censure upon his predecessors with a view
to vindicate himself, we cannot extol the judgment of the poet in
not attempting to preserve the bitterness of his original, which his
abilities would easily have compassed. Mr. Cowper's version, which
is very faithful, will sufficiently rescue the passage from every
attempt of ridicule:
Go, make thine entrance at her lofty gates ;
Priam, and all his house, and all his host,
Alive devour: then, haply, thou wilt rest. W..
Ver. 61. But should this arm prepare to wreak our hate
On thy loved realms.}
Homer in this place has made Jupiter to prophecy the destruction
of Mycene the favoured city of Juno, which happened a little
before the time of our author. Strab.1. viii. The Trojan war
being over, and the kingdom of Agamemnon destroyed, Mycene
daily decreased after the return of the Heraclide : for these be-
coming masters of Peloponnesus, cast out the old inhabitants ; so
that they who possessed Argos overcame Mycene also, and con-
tracted both into one body. A short time after Mycene was de-
stroyed by the Argives, and not the least remains of it are now to
befound.
BOOK ΙΓ. HOMER’s ILIAD. 169
For know, of all the numerous towns that rise 65
Beneath the rolling sun, and starry skies,
Which Gods have raised, or earth-born men enjoy ;
None stands so dear to Jove as sacred Troy.
No mortals merit more distinguish’d grace
Than god-like Priam, or than Priam’s race. 79
Still to our name their hecatombs expire,
And altars blaze with unextinguish’d fire.
At this the Goddess roll’d her radiant eyes,
Then on the thunderer fix’d them, and replies:
Three towns are Juno’s on the Grecian plains, 75
More dear than all the’ extended earth contains,
Mycene, Argos, and the Spartan wall;
These thou may’st raze, nor I forbid their fall:
Tis not in me the vengeance to remove ;
The crime’s sufficient that they share my love. 80
Of power superior why should I complain ?
Resent I may, but must resent in vain.
Yet some distinction Juno might require,
Sprung with thyself from one celestial sire;
A Goddess born to share the realms above, 85
And styled the consort of the thundering Jove;
Nor thou a wife and sister’s right deny;
Let both consent, and both by turns comply;
So shall the Gods our joint decrees obey,
And heaven shall act as we direct the way. 90

Ver. 64. The peculiar beauty of the original, which our poet
has neglected, Mr Cowper ventured to encounter, nor without
success:
Not pleased myself,
Nor yet unsatisfied, so thou be pleased. Ww.
170 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Iv.

See ready Pallas waits thy high commands,

—

To raise in arms the Greek and Phrygian bands ;

Their sudden friendship by her arts may cease,
And the proud Trojans first infringe the peace.
The sire of men, and monarch of the sky, 95
The’ advice approved, and bade Minerva fly,
Dissolve the league, and all her arts employ
To make the breach the faithless act of Troy.
Fired with the charge, she headlong urged her
ν
—
flight,
And shot like lightning from Olympus’ height. 100
As the red comet, from Saturnius sent
To fright the nations with a dire portent, «a
“

|
(A fatal sign to armies on the plain,
Or trembling sailors on the wintry main)
With sweeping glories glides along in air, 105
And shakes the sparkles from its blazing hair :
Between both armies thus in open sight,
Shot the bright Goddess in a trail of light.

Ver. 100.] This simile, an arbitrary addition to his author,

is very injudicious, because of that which immediately accompanies
it. His translation would have been more faithful thus:
Jove thus ; when Pallas urged her willing flight,
And shot zmpetuous from Olympus’ height.
Ver. 101.] Homer says literally:
Just like a comet Jove Saturnian sends,
Bright sign to sailors, or the spacious tribes
Of men on land; whence sparks innumerous shoot :
but who will deny the amplification of our ‘poet to be grand and
elegant? He has borrowed one term from Dacier, who stiles it
un signe fatal. And in justice to my own verbal translation, the
reader should be informed, that spxr@ here does not mean an
armed body, but a multitude indiscriminately: see my note on the
Eumenides of Aéschylus, ver. 1. W.
BOOK IV, HOMER’s ILIAD. 171

With eyes erect the gazing host admire 109

The power descending, and the heavens on fire!
The Gods (they cried) the Gods this signal sent,
And Fate now labours with some vast event :
Jove seals the league, or bloodier scenes prepares;
Jove, the great arbiter of peace and wars! 114
They said, while Pallas through the Trojan throng,
(In shape a mortal) pass’d disguised along.
Like bold LaGdocus, her course she bent,
Who from Antenor traced his high descent.
Amidst the ranks Lyca6n’s son she found,
The warlike Pandarus, for strength renown’d; 120
Whose squadrons, led from black Atsepus’ flood,
With flaming shields in martial circle stood.
To him the Goddess: Phrygian! canst thou hear
A well-timed counsel with a willing ear!
What praise were thine, could’st thou direct thy dart,
Amidst his triumph, to the Spartan’s heart ! 126
What gifts from ‘Troy, from Paris would’st thou
gain,
Thy country’s foe, the Grecian glory slain!
Then seize the’ occasion, dare the mighty deed,
Aim at his breast, and may that aim succeed! 130
But first, to speed the shaft, address thy vow
To Lycian Phoebus with the silver bow,
And swear the firstlings of thy flock to pay
On Zelia’s altars, to the God of day.
He heard, and madly at the motion pleas’d, 135
His polish’d bow with hasty rashness seiz’d.
*T was form’d of horn, and smooth’d with artful toil,
A mountain goat resign’d the shining spoil,
 179 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Iv,
Who pierced long since beneath his arrows bled;
The stately quarry on the cliffs lay dead, 140
And sixteen palms his bruws’ large honours spread: J
The workman join’d and shaped the bended horns,
And beaten gold each taper point adorns.
This by the Greeks unseen, the warrior bends,
Screen’d by the shields of his surrounding friends.
There meditates the mark; and couching low, 146
Fits the sharp arrow to the well-strung bow.
One from a hundred feather’d deaths he chose,
Fated to wound, and cause of future woes.
Then offers vows with hecatombs to crown 150
Apollo’s altars in his native town.
Now with full force the yielding horn he bands
Drawn to an arch, and joins the doubling ends;
Close to his breast he strains the nerve below,
Till the barb’d point approach the circling bow; 155
The’ impatient weapon whizzes on the wing:
Sounds the tough horn, and twangs the quivering
string.
But thee, Atrides! in that dangerous hour
The Gods forget not, nor thy guardian power.

Ver. 144.] Our poet is very inattentive to his original in this

place. Mr. Cowper’s version is excellent; which, with a small
correction of what seems to me a misinterpretation of Homer’s
words, not without obscurity, I shall present to the reader:
That bow he sprang ; then, stooping, bade his men
Close screen him with their shields, lest ere the prince
Were stricken, Menelaiis, brave in arms,
The Greeks with fierce assault should interpose.
He raised his quiver’s lid; he chose a dart
Unflown, full fledged, and barb’d with pangsof death. W.,
BOOK IV. HOMER’s ILIAD. 173

Pallas assists, and (weaken’d in its force) 160

Diverts the weapon from it’s destin’d course:
So from her babe, when slumber seals his eye,
The watchful mother wafts the’ envenom‘d fly.
Just where his belt with golden buckles join’d,
Where linen folds the double corslet lin’d, 165
She turn’d the shaft, which, hissing from above,
Pass’d the broad belt, and through the corslet drove;
The folds it pierced, the plaited linen tore,
And razed the skin, and drew the purple gore.
As when some stately trappings are decreed 170
To grace a monarch on his bounding steed,
A nymph in Caria or Mezonia bred,
Stains the pure ivory with a lively red ;

Ver. 160. Pallas assists, and (weaken’d in its force )

Diverts the weapon.]
For she only designed, by all this action, to increase the glory of
the Greeks in the taking of Troy: yet some Commentators have
been so stupid, as to wonder that Pallas should be employed first in
the wounding of Menelaiis, and after in the protecting him. Ρ,
Ver. 170. As when some stately trappings, &c.] Some have
judged the circumstances of this simile to be superfluous, and think
it foreign to the purpose to take notice, that this ivory was intended
for the bosses of a bridle, was laid up for a prince, or that a woman
of Caria or Meonia dyed it. Eustathius was of a different opinion,
who extols this passage for the variety it presents, and the learning
it includes: we learn from hence that the Lydians and Carians were
famous in the first times for their staining in purple, and that the
women excelled in works of ivory. As also that there were cer-
tain ornaments which only kings and princes were privileged to
wear. But without having recourse to antiquities to justify this
particular, it may be alleged, that the simile does not consist
barely in the colours; it was but little to tell us, that the blood of
Menelaiis appearing on the whiteness of his skin, vied with the pur-
ple ivory; but this implies, that the honourable wounds of a hero
are the beautiful dress of war, and become him as much as
the most gallant ornaments in which he takes the field, Ρ,
 174 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK IV.

With equal lustre various colours vie,

The shining whiteness, and the Tyrian dye: 175
So, great Atrides! show’d thy sacred blood,
As down thy snowy thigh distill’d the streaming
flood.
With horror seized, the king of men descried
The shaft infix’d, and saw the gushing tide:
Nor less the Spartan fear’d, before he found 180
The shining barb appear above the wound.
Then, with a sigh that heaved his manly breast,
The royal brother thus his grief exprest,
And grasp’d his hand; while all the Greeks around
With answering sighs return’d the plaintive sound.
Oh dear as life! did I for this agree 186
The solemn truce, a fatal truce to thee!
Wert thou exposed to all the hostile train,
To fight for Greece, and conquer to be slain ?
The race of Trojans in thy ruin join, 190
And faith is scorn’d by all the perjur’d line. -
Not thus our vows, confirm’d with wine and gore,
Those hands we plighted, and those oaths we swore,
Shall all be vain: when heaven’s revenge is slow,
Jove but prepares to strike the fiercer blow. 195
The day shall come, that great avenging day, |
Which Troy’s proud glories in the dust shall lay,

Ver. 174,1 What our author has omitted of his original will
appear from Ogilby, who is much more faithful:
Then in her chamber locks the well-stain’d bit:
Nobles at any price would purchase it ;
But for the king she keeps this gift so dear,
To grace his horse, and glad his charioteer.
But for a translation still more faithful, and abundantly more
elegant, I refer to Mr. Cowper. Ww.
BOOK IV. HOMER’s ILIAD. 175

When Priam’s powers and Priam’s self shall fall,

And one prodigious ruin swallow all.
I see the God, already, from the pole 200
Bare his red arm, and bid the thunder roll ;
I see the’ Eternal all his fury shed,
And shake his A‘gis o’er their guilty head.
Such mighty woes on perjur’d princes wait;
But thou, alas! deserv’st a happier fate. 205
Still must I mourn the period of thy days,
And only mourn without my share of praise ?
Deprived of thee, the heartless Greeks no more
Shall dream of conquests on the hostile shore;
Troy seized of Helen, and our glory lost, 210
Thy bones shall moulder on a foreign coast:
While some proud Trojan thus insulting cries,
(And spurns the dust where Menelaiis lies)
* Such are the trophies Greece from Ilion brings,
« And such the conquests of her king of kings! 215
“ Lo his proud vessels scatter’d o’er the main,
« And, unrevenged, his mighty brother slain.”
Oh! ere that dire disgrace should blast my fame,
O’erwhelm me, earth ! and hide a monarch’s shame.
He said: a leader’s and a brother’s fears 220
Possess his soul, which thus the Spartan cheers:
Let not thy words the warmth of Greeks abate;
The feeble dart is guiltless of my fate:
Stiff with the rich embroider’d work around,
My varied belt repell’d the flying wound. 225

Ver. 200.] This fine couplet is a supplement from our trans-

lator, who had in view a passage in the second ode of Horace. W.
 170 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK IV.

To whom the king. My brother and my friend,

Thus, always thus, may heaven thy life defend!
Now seek some skilful hand, whose powerful art
May staunch the’ effusion, and extract the dart.
Herald, be swift, and bid Machaén bring 230
His speedy succour to the Spartan king:
Pierced with a winged shaft (the deed of Troy)
The Grecians’ sorrow, and the Dardans’ joy.
With hasty zeal the swift Talthybius flies;
Through the thick files he darts his searching eyes,
And finds Macha6n, where sublime he stands 236
In arms encircled with his native bands.
Then thus : Machaon, to the king repair,
His wounded brother claims thy timely care;
Pierced by some Lycian or Dardanian bow, 240
A grief to us, a triumph to the foe.
The heavy tidings grieved the god-like man ;
Swift to his succour through the ranks he ran:
The dauntless king yet standing firm he found,
And all the chiefs in deep concern around. Q45
Where to the steely point the reed was join’d,
The shaft he drew, but left the head behind.

Ver. 230.] Mr. Cowper’s version will prove the great inatten-
tion of Pope on this occasion:
He ended, and his noble herald, next,
Bespake, Talthybius. Haste, call hither quick
The son of Aisculapius, leech renown’d, .
The prince Machaon. W.
Ver. 236.] Thus he might have represented his author more
exactly:
And finds Machaon, where 7 circling bands
Of Trica, famed for warrior steeds, he stands. W.
 BOOK Iv. HOMER’s ILIAD. 177

Straight the broad. belt, with gay embroidery grac’d,

_ He loosed; the corslet from his breast unbrac’d ;
Then-suck’d the blood, and sovereign balm infus’d,
Which Chiron gave, and A‘sculapius us’d. 251
While round the prince the Greeks employ their
care, .
The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war ;
Once more they glitter in refulgent arms,
Once more the fields are fill’d with dire alarms. 255
Nor had you seen the king of men appear
Confused, unactive, or surprised with fear;
But fond of glory, with severe delight,
His beating bosom claim’d the rising fight.
No longer with his warlike steeds he staid, 260
Or press’d the car with polish’d brass inlaid:
But left Eurymedon the reins to guide ;
The fiery coursers snorted at his side.
On foot through all the martial ranks he moves,
And these encourages, and those reproves. 265
Brave men! he cries (to such who boldly dare
Urge their swift steeds to face the coming war)
Your ancient valour on the foes approve;
Jove is with Greece, and let us trust in Jove:

Ver. 253. The Trojans rush tumultuous to the war.| They ad

vanced to the enemy in the belief that the shot of Pandarus was
made by order of the generals. Dacier. Ez
Ver. 254.] This is ambiguous, or rather contrary to Homer:
he might have said,
«The Greeks in turn put on refulgent arms. Ww.
Ver. 263.] After this our poet has neglected two entire verses,
which may thus be rudely represented to the reader:
Him strict he charged to keep at hand the car,
Lest strength should fail him, marshalling the war. W,
VOL. 1. N
178 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Iv.
’Tis not for us, but guilty Troy to dread, 270
Whose crimes sit heavy on her perjured head;
Her sons and matrons Greece shall lead in chains,
And her dead warriors strew the mournful plains.
Thus with new ardour he the brave inspires ;
Or thus the fearful with reproaches fires. 275
Shame to your country, scandal of your kind !
Born to the fate ye well deserve to find!
Why stand you gazing round the dreadful plain,
Prepared for flight, but doom’d to fly in vain ἢ
Confused and. panting thus, the hunted deer 280
Falls as he flies, a victim to his fear.
Still must ye wait the foes, and still retire,
"Till yon’ tall vessels blaze with Trojan fire ἢ
Or trust ye, Jove a valiant foe shall chase,
To save a trembling, heartless, dastard race? 285
This said, he stalk’d with ample strides along,
To Crete’s brave monarch and his martial throng;
High at their head he saw the chief appear,
And bold Meriones excite the rear.

Ver. 270.] He might have expressed his author thus:

’ Tis not for us, but guilty Troy to dread ;
And. soon will vultures tear the perjured dead. W.
~ Ver. 283.]. This is not from Homer, but Ogilby :
And all our navy blaze with Trojan flame.
The following attempt to show our poet’s deviations, will deserve
more commendation from the reader for its closeness, than its ele-
gance:
What? idly wait ye, ’till the Trojan band
Reach where our ships are station’d on the strand, }
To see. if Jove will stretch his aiding hand ὃ Ww.
Ver. 288.] Our poet omits and adds at pleasure. The follow-
ing translation conveys the sense of Homer :
BOOK IV. HOMER’s ILIAD. ¥79

At this the king his generous joy exprest, 290

And clasp’d the warrior to his armed. breast.
Divine Idomeneus ! what thanks we owe
To worth like thine! what praise shall we bestow !
To thee the foremost honours are decreed,
First in the fight, and every graceful deed. 295
For this, in banquets, when the generous bowls
Restore our blood, and raise the warriors’ souls,
Though all the rest with stated rules be bound,
Unmix’d, unmeasured are thy goblets crown’d.
Be still thyself; in arms a mighty name; 300
Maintain thy honours, and enlarge thy fame.
To whom the Cretan thus his speech addrest;
Secure of me, O king! exhort the rest :
Fix’d to thy side, in every toil I share,
Thy firm associate in the day of war. 305
But let the signal be this moment given ;
To mix in fight is all I ask of heaven.
These arming round Idomeneus he found:
In front the chief, of vigour like a boar;
The rear, Meriones was urging on.
Them gladly view’d the king of men, and thus
With soothing words addrest Idomeneus. W.
Ver. 296. Forthis, in banquets] The ancients usually in their
feasts divided to the guests by equal portions, except when they
took some particular occasion to shew distinction, and give the pre-
ference to any one person. It was then looked upon as the highest
mark of honour to be allotted the best portion of meat and wine,
anid to be allowed an exemption from the laws of the feast, in drink-
ing wine unmingled and without stint. This custom was much
more ancient than the time of the Trojan war, and we find: it
practised in the banquet given by Joseph to his brethren inEgypt,
Gen. xliii. ver. ult. And he sent messes to them front before him.
but Benjamin’s mess was five times so much as any of theirs.
Dacier.
N2
 180 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK IV--

The field shall prove how perjuries succeed,

And chains or death avenge their impious deed.
Charm’d with this heat, the King his course pur-
sues, 310
And next the troops of either Ajax views:
In one firm orb the bands were ranged around,
A cloud of heroes blacken’d all the ground.
Thus from the lofty promontory’s brow
A swain surveys the gathering storm below ; 315
Slow from the main the heavy vapours rise,
Spread in dim streams, and sail along the skies,
Till black as night the swelling tempest shows
The cloud condensing as the West-wind blows :
He dreads the’ impending storm, and drives his flock
To the close covert of an arching rock. 32k
Such, and so thick, the’ embattled squadrons stood.
With spears erect, a moving iron wood ;
A shady light was shot from glimmering shields,
And their brown arms obscured the dusky fields. 325
O heroes! worthy such a dauntless train, |
Whose godlike virtue we but urge in vain,
(Exclaimed the king) who raise your eager bands
_ With great examples, more than loud commands.
Ver. 318.]. His original says:
than pitch more black. Ww,
Ver. 324.] This couplet is almost wholly a gratuitous appen-
dage to his original ;amplified, perhaps, from Ogilby and Chap-
man. The entire sense of Homer will be tolerably comprized in
these two verses:
Thus, dark and close, to war the’ embattled train,
Bristling with spears and shields, moved o’er the plain, W.
Ver. 326.] Homer says literally :
Ye chiefs of Argives, clad in brazen mail. WwW.
 BOOK Iv. HOMER’s ILIAD. 181
‘Ah would the Gods but breathe in all the rest 330
Such souls as burn in your exalted breast !
Soon should our arms with just success be crown’d,
And Troy’s proud walls lie smoking on the ground.
Then to the next the General bends his course ;
(His heart exults, and glories in his force) 335
There reverend Nestor ranks his Pylian bands,
And with inspiring eloquence commands;
With strictest order sets his train in arms,
The chiefs advises, and the soldiers warms.

Ver. 335.] Instead of these additions, which weaken the vigour

of his author, I should have preferred a brevity, that would only
sacrifice connecting terms of no importance to the narrative. As
thus: |
From these he comes where Nestor ranks his bands. W.
_ Ver. 336. There reverend Nestor ranks his Pylian bands.)
‘This is the prince whom Homer chiefly celebrates for martial disci-
pline; of the rest he is content to say they were valiant, and ready
to fight: the years, long observation, and experience of Nestor,
rendered him the fittest person to be distinguished on this account.
The disposition of his troops in this place (together with what he
is made to say, that their forefathers used the same method) may
be a proof that the art of war was well known in Greece before the
time of Homer. Nor indeed can it be imagined otherwise, in an
' age when all the world made their acquisitions by force of arms
only. What is most to be wondered at, is, that they had not the
use of cavalry, all men engaging either on foot, or from chariots
(a particular necessary to be known by every reader of Homer’s
battles). In these chariots there were always two persons, one of
whom only fought, the other was wholly employed in managing
the horses. Madam Dacier, in her excellent preface to Homer, is
of opinion, that there were no horsemen till near the time of Saul,
threescore years after the siege of Troy; so that although cavalry
were in use in Homer’s days, yet he thought himself obliged to re-
gard the customs of the age of which he writ, rather than those of
his own. P.
Ver, 338.] This couplet is adventitious also, and might be
spared without any injury to himself or his author, WwW.
182 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Iv.
Alastor, Chromius, Hzemon round him wait, 340
Bias the good, and Pelagon the great.
The horse and chariots to the front assign’d,
The foot (the strength of war) he ranged behind;
The middle space suspected troops supply,
Inclos’d by both, nor left the power to fly: B45
He gives command to curb the fiery steed,
Nor cause confusion, nor the ranks exceed;
Before the rest let none too rashly ride;
No strength, nor skill, but just in time be tried:
The charge once made, no warrior turn the rein,
But fight, or fall; a firm embodied train. 351
He whom the fortune of the field shall cast |
: ν a :
From forth his chariot, mount the next in haste;
Nor seek unpractis’d to direct the car,
Content with javelins to provoke the war. 355
Our great forefathers held this prudent course,
Thus ruled their ardour, thus preserved their force,
By laws like these immortal conquests made,
And earth’s proud tyrants low in ashes laid.
So spoke the master of the martial art, 360
And touch’d with transport great Atrides’ heart.
Ver. 344. The middle space suspected troops supply.| This arti-
fice of placing those men whose behaviour was most to be doubted
in the middle (so as to put them under a necessity of engaging even
against their inclinations) was followed by Hannibal in the battle
of Zama; as is observed and praised by Polybius, who quotes this
verse on that occasion, in acknowledgment of Homer's skill in
military discipline. That our author was the first master of that art
in Greece, is the opinion of lian, Tactic.c. 1. Frontinus gives us
another example of Pyrrhus king of Epirus’s following this instrue~
tion of Homer. Vide Stratag. lib. ii. c.3. So Ammianus Mar-
eellinus 1. xiv. Imperator catervis peditum infirmis, medium inter
‘acies spacium, secundum Homericam dispositionem, prestituit. P.
 4

-κὦ
ΕΝ

BOOK Iv. HOMER’s ILIAD. 183

Oh! hadst thou strength to match thy brave desires,

And nerves to second what thy soul inspires !
But wasting years that wither human race,
Exhaust thy spirits, and thy arms unbrace. 365
What once thou wert, oh ever might’st thou be !
And age the lot of any chief but thee.
Thus to the’ experienced prince Atrides cried ;
He shook his hoary locks, and thus replied.
Well might I wish, could mortal wish renew 370
That strength which once in boiling youth I knew;
Such as I was, when Ereuthalion slain
Beneath this arm fell prostrate on the plain.
But heaven its gifts not all at once bestows, 374
These years with wisdom crowns, with action those:
The field of combat fits the young and bold,
The solemn council best becomes the old;
To you the glorious conflict I resign,
Let sage advice, the palm of age, be mine. 379
He said. With joy the monarch march’d before, —
And found Menestheus on the dusty shore,
With whom the firm Athenian phalanx stands ;
And next Ulysses with his subject bands.
Remote their forces lay, nor knew so far
The peace infringed, nor heard the sounds of war;
The tumult late begun, they stood intent 386
To watch the motion, dubious of the’ event.
The king, who saw their squadrons yet unmov’d,
With hasty ardour thus the chiefs reprov’d.
Can Peteus’ son forget a warrior’s part, 390
And fears Ulysses, skill’d in every art? -
184 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK IV:

Why stand you distant, and the rest expect

To mix in combat which yourselves neglect ?
From you.’twas hoped among the first to dare
The shock of armies, and commence the war. 995
For this your names are call’d, before the rest,
To share the pleasures of the genial feast :
And:can you, chiefs! without a blush survey
Whole troops before you labouring in the fray ?
Say, is it thus those honours you requite ? 400
The first in banquets, but the last in fight,

Ver. 396.] More exactly thus:

From you at least, who hear before the rest
Our invitations to the genial feast :
but as the rhyme is inaccurate, the sarcasm of the original might
be better preserved by an improvement on Chapman:
But to our feasts ye come before the rest;
Not tardy then ; and eat and drink the best.
Our author then omits two verses, which partake too much of a
sarcastical spirit, that characterises the speech, to be neglected with
propriety. Accept this rough delineation of them:
Then ye, carousing, at my boafd recline,
And quaff at will full bowls of costly wine. W.
Ver. 398.] There is but small resemblance in these four lines
[0 his original, which may be thus exhibited word for word:
Now ye would gladly see ten troops of Greeks
Engage-before yourselves with murderous steel. Ww.
Ver. 402.] _This speech of Ulysses is very ill represented by
our poet ;and must be read in Cowper by those who wish to see a
faithful exhibition of the original. But the reader, perhaps, may
expect some representation of it frem myself:
O! chief, what censures have escap’d thy teethὃ
Call’st thou me slack in war? Whene’er we Greeks
Urge on Troy’s warriors the sharp edge of war,
See, if thou wilt, and thus thy soul incline,
The father of Telemachus engag’d
First in the Trojan van. Thy words are vain. Ww.
BOOK IV. HOMER’s ILIAD. 185

Ulysses heard: the hero’s warmth o’erspread

His cheek with blushes: and severe, he said:
Take back the’ unjust reproach! Behold we stand
Sheath’d in bright arms, and but expect command.
If glorious deeds afford thy soul delight, 406
Behold me plunging in the thickest fight.
Then give thy warrior-chief a warrior’s due,
Who dares to act whate’er thou darest to view.
Struck with his generous wrath the king replies;
Qh great in action, and in council wise! 411
With ours, thy care and ardour are the same,
Nor need I to command, nor ought to blame.
Sage as thou art, and learn’d in human kind,
Forgive the transport of a martial mind. 41
Haste to the fight, secure of just amends!
The Gods that make, shall keep the worthy, friends.
He said, and pass’d where great Tydides lay,
His steeds and chariots wedged in firm array :
(The warlike Sthenelus attends his side) 420
To whom with stern reproach the monarch cried;
Oh son of 'Tydeus! (he, whose strength could tame
The bounding steed, in arms a mighty name)
Can’st thou, remote, the mingling hosts descry,
With bands unactive, and a careless eye ? - 425
Not thus thy sire the fierce encounter fear’d;
Still first in front the matchless prince appear’d:
What glorious toils, what wonders they recite
Who view’d him labouring through the ranks of
fight!
I saw him once when, gathering martial powers, 430
A peaceful guest, he sought Mycenz’s towers;
186 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK IV.
Armies he ask’d, and armies had been given,
Not we denied, but Jove forbade from heaven; |
While dreadful comets glaring from afar
Forewarn'd the horrors of the Theban war. 435
Next, sent by Greece from where Asopus flows,
A fearless envoy, he approach’d the foes;
Thebes’ hostile walls, unguarded and alone,
Dauntless he enters, and demands the throne.
The tyrant feasting with his chiefs he found, 440
And dared to combat all those chiefs around;
Dared and subdued, before their haughty lord;
For Pallas strung his arm, and edged his sword.
Stung with the shame, within the winding way,
To bar his passage fifty warriors lay; 44
Two heroes led the secret squadron on,
Meon the fierce, and hardy Lycophon ;
Those fifty slaughtered in the gloomy vale,
He spared but one to bear the dreadful tale.
Such Tydeus was, and such his martial fire; 450
Gods! how the son degenerates from his sire!
No words the godlike Diomed return’d,
But heard respectful, and in secret burn’d:
Not so fierce Capaneus’ undaunted son,
Stern as his sire, the boaster thus begun. 455
What needs, O monarch, this invidious praise, ᾿
Ourselves to lessen, while our sires you raise ?
Dare to be just, Atrides! and confess
Our valour equal, though our fury less.

Ver. 486.] Ina triplet, by inserting a line like the following,

he might have comprehended the full sense of his author :
Where osiers thick, and grass abundant grows. WwW,
BOOK IV. HOMER’s ILIAD. 187

With fewer troops we storm’d the Theban wall, 460

And happier saw the sevenfold city fall.
In impious acts the guilty fathers died;
The sons subdued, for Heaven was on their side.
Far more than heirs of all our parents’ fame,
Our glories darken their diminish’d name. 465
To him Tydides thus. My friend forbear,
Suppress thy passion, and the King revere:
His high concern may well excuse this rage,
Whose cause we follow, and whose war we wage;
His the first praise, were Ilion’s towers o’erthrown,
And, if we fail, the chief disgrace his own. 470
Let him the Greeks to hardy toils excite, !
*Tis ours to labour in the glorious fight.
He spoke, and ardent, on the trembling ground _
Sprung from his car; his ringing arms resound. 475
Dire was the clang, and dreadful from afar,
Of arm’d Tydides rushing to the war.
Ver. 460. We storm’d the Theban wall.| The first Theban war,
of which Agamemnon spoke in the preceding lines, was seven and
twenty years before the war of Troy. Sthenelus here speaks of the
second Theban war, which happened ten years after the first : when
the sons of the seven captains conquered the city, before which
their fathers were destroyed. Tydeus expired gnawing the head
of his enemy, and Capaneus was thunder-struck while he blas-
phemed Jupiter. Vid. Stat. Thebaid. P.
Ver. 467.] More exactly, with these alterations :
Then sternly thus Tydides: Friend! forbear ;
Obey my council, and in silence hear. Ww.
Ver. 474.] The following attempt gives at least the sense of
Homer :
He spake: and from his chariot to the ground
Leapt: on the rushing warrior’s breast the brass
Clang’d loud, and e’en the bravest might appall. W.
 188 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK IV,

As when the winds, ascending by degrees,

First move the whitening surface of the seas,
The billows floatin order to the shore, 480
The wave behind rolls on the wave before:
"Til, with the growing storm, the deeps arise,
Foam o’er the rocks, and thunder to the skies—
So to the fight the thick battalions throng,
Shields urged on shields, and men drove men along.
Sedate and silent move the numerous bands; 486
No sound, no whisper, but the chiefs’ commands,
Those only heard ; with awe the rest obey,
As if some God had snatch’d their voice away.
Not so the Trojans; from their host ascends 490
A general shout that all the region rends. |
As when the fleecy flocks unnumber’d stand
In wealthy folds, and wait the milker’s hand,
The hollow vales incessant bleating fills,
The lambs reply from all the neighbouring hills: 495
Such clamours rose from various nations round,
Mix’d was the murmur, and confused the sound.
Each host now joins, and each a God inspires,
These Mars incites, and those Minerva fires.
~ Pale Flight around, and dreadful ‘Terror reign;
And Discord raging bathes the purple plain ; 501

Ver, 489.] He has here omitted a verse and a half of his

original, which may be thus supplied:
The various armour of the marshall’d train,
Shot gleamy coruscations through the plain.
And the verse before us runs thus in the original :
nor wouldst thou have said
These numerous troops had voice within their breasts, W,
_ BOOK IV. HOMER’s ILIAD. 189

Discord! dire sister of the slaughtering power,

Small at her birth, but rising every hour,
While scarce the skies her horrid head can bound,
She stalks on earth and shakes the world around; 505
The nations bleed, where-e’er her steps she turns,
The groan still deepens, and the combat burns.
Now shield with shield, with helmet helmet
clos’d,
To armour armour, lance to lance oppos’d,
Host against host with shadowy squadrons drew, 510
The sounding darts in iron tempests flew.
Victors and vanquish’d join promiscuous cries,
And shrilling shouts and dying groans arise;
With streaming blood the slippery fields are died,
And slaughter’d heroes swell the dreadful tide. 515.
As torrents roll, increased by numerous rills,
With rage impetuous down their echoing hills ;
Rush to the vales, and pour’d along the plain,
Roar through a thousand channels to the main ;
The distant shepherd trembling hears the sound : 520
So mix’d both hosts, and so their cries rebound.
The bold Antilochus the slaughter led,
The first who struck a valiant Trojan dead:
At great Echepolus the lance arrives,
Razed his high crest and through his helmet drives;_.

Ver. 506.] This is ἃ magnificent couplet, wrought from the

: following plain materials of his author:
She ’midst them cast the strife of equal war;
Stalkt through the ranks, and swell’d the groan ofmen. W.
Ver. 510.] He might easily have conformed more to his origi-
nal, and have avoided a mere expletive expression :
Host against host with closing targets drew. Ww.

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100 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Iv.

Warm’d in the brain the brazen weapon lies, 526

And shades eternal settle o’er his eyes.
So sinks a tower that long assaults had stood
Of force and fire; its walls besmear’d with blood.
Him the bold * leader of the Abantian throng 590
Seized. to despoil, and dragg’d the corpse along’:
But while he strove to tug the’ inserted dart,
Agenor’s javelin reach’d the hero’s heart.
His flank, unguarded by his ample shield,
Admits the lance: he falls, and spurns the field ; 535
The nerves, unbraced, support his limbs no more ;
The soul comes floating m a tide of gore.
Trojans and Greeks now gather round the slain ;
‘The war renews, the warriors bleed again ;
As o’er their prey rapacious wolves engage, 540
Man dies on man, and all is blood and rage.
In blooming youth fair Simoisius fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the shades of hell:
Fair Simoisius, whom his mother bore
Amid the flock on silver Simois’ shore : 545
The nymph descending from the hills of Ide,
Το seek her parents on his flowery side,

* Elphenor.
Ver. 541.] The latter clause of this verse is adventitious to his
model, but might be suggested by Dacier: “ Et remplissent toué
“ὁ 4’ horreur et de sang.”
» Ver. 542. In: blooming youth fair Simoistus fell.| This prince
received his name from the river Simois, on whose banks he was
born. It was the custom of the eastern people to give names to their
children derived from the most remarkable accidents of their birth.
The holy scripture is full of examples of this kind. It is also wsual
in the Old Testament to compare princes to trees, cedars, S&e,. as
Simoisius is here'resembled-to.a poplar. Dacier. | F.
BOOK IV. HOMER’s ILIAD. 191

Brought forth the babe, their common care and

joy;
And thence from Simois named the lovely boy.
Short was his date! by dreadful Ajax slain 550
He falls, and renders all their cares in vain!
So falls a poplar, that in watery ground:
Raised high the head, with stately branches crown’d,
(Fell’d by some artist with his shining steel,
To shape the circle of the bending wheel) 555
Cut down it lies, tall, smooth, and largely spread,
With all its beauteous honours on its head;
There, left a subject to the wind and rain,
And scorch’d by suns, it withers on the plain.
Thus pierced by Ajax, Simoisius lies 560
Stretch’d on the shore, and thus neglected dies.
At Ajax Antiphus his javelin threw; }
The pointed lance with erring fury flew, ᾿
And Leucus, loved by wise Ulysses, slew. Ἰ:
He drops the corpse of Simoisius slain, 565:
And sinks a breathless carcase on the plain.
This saw Ulysses, and with grief enrag’d
Strode where the foremost of the foes engag’d ;
Arm’d with his spear, he meditates the wound,
In act to throw; but cautious look’d around. 570

Ver. 550.} The sense of Homer is not seen in this translation.

limight be corrected thus:
Short. was his date! he falls by Ajax there,
Nor lives to recompense his parent’s care.
And most of what our poet has omitted Ogilby, with alteration,
will sufficiently discover:
ἢ The hero’s javelin, to his bosom thrust
- And through the shoulder, laid him in the dust. W.
Ver. 570.] Our translator might have found, I think, m
4 .
192 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK IV.

Struck at his sight the Trojans backward drew,

And trembling heard the javelin as it flew. -
A chief stood nigh, who from Abydos came,
Old Priam’s son, Democo6n was his name;
The weapon enter’d close above his ear, 575
Cold through his temples glides the whizzing spear;
With piercing shrieks the youth resigns his breath,
His eye-balls darken with the shades of death ;
Ponderous he falls; his clanging arms resound;
And, his broad buckler rings against the ground. 580
Seized with affright the boldest foes appear;
Even god-like Hector seems himself to fear ;
Slow he gave way, the rest tumultuous fled ;
The Greeks with shouts press on, and spoil the dead;
But Phoebus now from Ilion’s towering height 585
Shines forth reveal’d, and animates the fight.

Chapman a better interpretation of the original phrase looking

around him, than what he has adopted.:
Came close, and lookt about to find an object worth his
lance. - W.
Ver. 577.] This addition to his author appears to me peculiarly
unfortunate. Death, occasioned by the passage of such a spear
from such a hero, could not but be instantaneous, and would af-
ford, I should presume, no leisure for piercing shrieks. W.
fer. 581.] All the original might be convey’d in éwo lines:
The foremost chiefs and Hector shrink with dread :
' The Greeks with shouts press on, and drag the dead. W.
Ver. 585. But Phoebus που. Homer here introduces Apollo
on the side of the Trojans: he had given them the assistance of
Mars at the beginning of this battle ;but Mars (which signifies
courage without conduct) proving too weak to resist Minerva (or,
courage with conduct) which the poet represents as constantly.
aiding his Greeks ; they want some prudent management to rally
them again: he therefore brings in a Wisdom to assist Mars, under
the. appearance of Apollo. | : ¥P.
 BOOK IV. HOMER’s ILIAD. 193
Trojans be bold, and force with force oppose;
Your foaming steeds urge headlong on the foes!
Nor are their bodies rocks, nor ribb’d with steel ;
Your weapons enter, and your strokes they feel. 590
Have ye forgot what seem’d your dread before ?
The great, the fierce Achilles fights no more.
Apollo thus from Ilion’s lofty towers
Array’d in terrors roused the Trojan powers:
While War's fierce Goddess fires the Grecian foe, 595
And shouts and thunders in the fields below.
Then Great Diores fell, by doom divine,
In vain his valour, and illustrious line.
A broken rock the force of Pirus threw,
(Who from cold Awnus led the Thracian crew) 600
Full on his ancle dropt the ponderous stone,
Burst the strong nerves, and crash’d the solid bone:
Supine he tumbles on the crimson sands,
Before his helpless friends, and native bands,
And spreads for aid his unavailing hands. 605 1]
The foe rush’d furious as he pants for breath,
And through his navel drave the pointed death :
His gushing entrails smoak’d upon the ground,
_ And the warm life came issuing from the wound.
His lance bold Thoas at the conqueror.sent, 610
Deep in his breast above the pap it went,
Amid the lungs was fixed the winged wood,
And quivering in his heaving bosom stood :
Ἱ
*Till from the dying chief, approaching near,
The’ Atolian warrior tugg’d his weighty spear: 615
Then sudden waved his flaming faulchion round,
And gash’d his belly with a ghastly wound,
VOL. I. O
194 HOMER’s. ILIAD. BOOK IV.

The corpse now breathless’ on the bloody plain,

To spoil his arms the victor strove in vain;
The Thracian bands against the victor prest ; » “620
A grove of lances glitter’d at his*breast.
Stern Thoas, glaring with revengeful eyes,
In sullen fury slowly: quits the prize,
Thus fell two heroes; one the pride of : Thrace,
And one the leader of the’ Epeian: race;
Death’s sable shade at once o’ercast:their eyes,
In dust the vanquish’d and the victor lies.
With copious’ slaughter all the fields are red,
And heap’d with growing mountains of the dead.
Had some brave chief this martial scenebeheld;-630
By Pallas guarded through thedreadful field,
Might darts be bid to turn:their; points away, |
And swords around him innocently play ;
The war’s whole art with wonder had he seen,
And counted heroes where he:counted:‘men. 08
* So fought each: host, with thirst of glory δι ἃ,
And crowds ‘on crowds triumphantly expir’d.

Ver. 626.] .These four. noble:lines are constructed from one of

his author:
Warriors in crowds around these chiefs were slain.
ed
 ΑΝ

ΜΙ aon hoo apa

ON

HOMER'S BATTLES.

PERHAPS it may be necessary in this place, at the

opening of Homer’s battles, to premise some observations
upon them in general. I shall first endeavour to show the
conduct of the poet herein, and next collect some antiquities,
that tend to a more distinct understanding of those descrip-
tions which make'so large a part of the poem.
One may very well apply to Homer himself, what he
says of his heroes at the end of the fourth book, that who-
soever should be guided through his battles by Minerva, and
pointed to every scene of them, would see nothing through
the whole but subjects of surprise and applause. When
the reader reflects that’ no less than the compass of twelve
books is taken up in these, he will have reason to wonder
by what methods our author could prevent descriptions of
sucha length from being tedious. It is not enough to say,
that though the subject itself be the same, the actions are
always’ different; that we have now distinct combats, now
promiscuous fights, now single duels, ‘now general engage-
ments; or that the scenes are perpetually varied; we are
now in the fields, now at the fortification of the Greeks,
now at the ships, now at the gates of Troy, now at the river
O 2
196 AN ESSAY ON

Scamander: but we must look farther into the art of the

poet, to find the reasons of this astonishing variety.
We may first observe that diversity in the deaths of his
warriors, which he has supplied by the vastest fertility of
invention. These he distinguishes several ways; sometimes
by the characters of the men, their age, office, profession,
mation, family, &c. One is a blooming youth, whose
father dissuaded him from the war; one is a priest, whose
piety could not save him; one is a sportsman, whom Diana
taught in vain; one is the native of a far-distant country,
who is never to return; one is descended from a nolle line,
which ends in his death; one is made remarkable by his
boasting; another by his beseeching; and another, who is
distinguished no way else, is marked by his habit, and the
singularity of his armour.
Sometimes he varies these deaths by the several postures
in which his heroes are represented either fighting or falling.
Some of these are so exceedingly exact, that one may guess
from the very position of the combatant, whereabouts the
wound will light: others so very peculiar and uncommon,
that they could only be the effect of an imagination which
had searched through all the ideas of nature. Such is that
picture of Mydon in the fifth book, whose arm being
numbed by a blow on the elbow, drops the reins that trail
on the ground; and then being suddenly struck on the
temples, falls headlong from the chariot in a soft and deep
place; where he sinks up to the shoulders in the sands, and
continues a while fixed by the weight of his armour, with
his legs quivering in the air, till he is trampled down by
his horses.
Another cause of this variety is the difference of the
wounds that are given in the Iliad: they are by no means
like the wounds described by most other poets, which are
commonly made in the self-same obvious places: the heart
and head serve for all those in general who understand no
 HOMER’S BATTLES. 197
anatomy, and sometimes for variety they kill men by wounds
that are no where mortal but in their poems. As the whole
human body is the subject of these, so nothing is more
necessary to him who would describe them well, than a
thorough knowledge of its structure, even though the poet
is not professedly to write of them as an anatomist; in the
same manner as an exact skill in anatomy is necessary to
those painters that would excel in drawing the naked, though
they are not to make any muscle as visible as in a book of
chirurgery. It appears from so many passages in Homer
that he was perfectly master of this science, that it would
be needless to cite any in particular. One may only observe,
that if we thoroughly examine all the wounds he has de-
scribed, though so infinite in number, and so many ways
diversified, we shall hardly find one which will contradict
this observation.
I must just add a remark, That the various periphrases
and circumlocutions by which Homer expresses the single
act of dying, have supplied Virgil and the succeeding
poets with all their manners of phrasing it. Indeed, he
. repeats the same verse on that occasion more often than they
τὸν δὲ σκότος ὅσσ᾽ ἐκάλυψε--------------- Αράξησε δὲ τεύχε
ἐπ᾿ αὐτῷ, &c. But though it must be owned he had more
frequent occasions for a line of this kind than any poet, as
no other has described half so many deaths, yet one cannot
ascribe this to any sterility of expression, but to the genius
of his times, that delighted in those reiterated verses. We
find repetitions of the same sort affected by the sacred
writers, such as He was gathered to his people; He slepi
with his fathers; and the like. And upon the whole they
have a certain antiquated harmony, not unlike the burthen
of a song, which the ear is willing to suffer, and as it were
rests upon.
As the perpetual horror of combats, and a succession of
images of death, could not but keep the imagination very
198 AN .ESSAY ON

much.on the stretch; Homer has been careful, to contrive

such reliefs and pauses, as might divert the mind to some
other scene, without losing sight. of his principal object.
His comparisons are the more frequent on this account; for
a comparison. serves ,this end, the most effectually of any
thing, as it is at once correspondent to, and differing from
the subject. .Those criticks who fancy that the use of com-
parisons distracts the attention, and. draws it from the first
image which should most employ it, (as that we lose the
idea of the battle itself while we are led by a simile to that of
a deluge or a storm:) those, I say, may as well imagine we
lose the thought of the sun, when we see his reflection in the
water, where he appears more distinctly, .and is contem-
plated more at ease, than if we gazed directly at his beams.
For it is with the eye of the imagination as it is with our cor-
poreal eye, it must sometimes be taken off from the object
in order to see it the better. The same criticks that are
displeased to have their fancy distracted (as they call it) are
yet so inconsistent with themselves as to object to Homer
that his similes are too much alike, and are too often derived
from the same animal. But is it not more reasonable
(according to their own notion) to compare the same man
always to the same animal, than to see him sometimes a
sun, sometimes a tree, and sometimes river? ‘Though
Homer speaks of the same creature, he so diversifies the
circumstances. and accidents of the comparisons, that
they always appear quite different. And to say truth, ‘it is
not so much the animal or the thing, as the action or
posture of them that employs our imagination: two dif-
ferent animals in the same action are more like to each
other, than one and the same animal is to himself, in two
different actions. And those who in reading Homer are
shocked that it is always a lion, may as well be angry that
it is always a man.
What may seem more exceptionable, is his inserting the
ae HOMER’S. BATTLES. 199

same’ comparisons,in the same words at length, upon

different occasions;. by which management he makes
one single image afford many ornaments to several parts
of the poem. Butmay not one say Homer is in this like
a skilful improver, who. places..a beautiful statue in a
well-disposed garden:so as to answer several. vistas, and by
that’ artifice one single figure seems multiplied into as
many objects as there are openings from whence it may be
viewed ?
What farther relieves .and softens these descriptions of
battles, is the poet’s wonderful art of introducing many
pathetic circumstances about the deaths of the heroes, which
raise a different. movement in the mind from what those
images naturally inspire, I mean compassion and. pity;
when he:causes us to look back upon the lost riches, posses-
sions, and hopes of those who die: when he transports us
to their native countries and paternal seats, to see the griefs
of their.aged fathers, the despair and tears of their widows,
or the abandoned condition of their orphans.. ‘Thus when
Protesilaus falls, we are made to reflect on. the lofty
palaces he left half-finished; when the sons of Phzenops
are. killed, we behold the mortifying distress of their
wealthy father, who saw his estate divided before his eyes,
and taken in trust for strangers. When Axylus dies, we
are taught to compassionate the hard fate of that gene-
rous and hospitable man, whose house was the house of all
men, and who deservedithat glorious elogy of The friend of
human kind.
It is worth taking notice too, what use Homer every where
makes of each little accident or circumstance that can natu-
rally happen in a battle, thereby to cast a variety over his
action ;.as well as of every turn of mind or emotion a hero
can possibly feel, such as resentment, revenge, concern, con-
fusion, &c. The former of these makes his work resembie
a large history-piece, where even the less important figures
900 AN ESSAY ON

and actions have yet some convenient place or corner to be

shown in; and the latter gives it all the advantages of tra~
gedy, in those various turns of passion that animate the
speeches of his heroes, and render his whole poem the most
dramatick of any Epick whatsoever.
It must also be observed, that the constant machines of
the Gods conduce very greatly to vary these long battles, by
a continual change of the scene from earth to heaven.
Homer perceived them too necessary for this purpose, to
abstain from the use of them even after Jupiter had enjoin-
ed the Deities not to act on either side. It is remarkable
how many methods he has found to draw them into every
book: where if they dare not assist the warriors, at least
thev are very helpful to the poet.
But there is nothing that more contributes to the variety,
surprise, and eclat of Homer’s battles, or is more perfectly
admirable in itself; than that artful manner of taking mea-
sure, or (as one may say) gaging his heroes by each other,
and thereby elevating the character of one person, by the
opposition of it to that of some other whom he is made to
excel. So that he many times describes one only to image
another, and raises one only to raise another. I cannot
better exemplify this remark, than by giving an instance in
the character of Diomed that lies beforeme. Let us observe
by what ascale of oppositions he elevates this hero, in the
fifth book, first to excel all human valour, and after to rival
the Gods themselves. He distinguishes him first from the -

Grecian captains in general, each of whom he represents

conquering a single ‘Trojan, while Diomed constantly en-
counters two at once; and while they are engaged each in
his distinct post, he only is drawn fighting in every quarter,
and slaughtering on every side. Next he opposes him to
Pandarus, next to Atneas, and then to Hector. So of the
Gods, he shows him first against Venus, then Apollo, then
Mars, and lastly in the eighth book against Jupiter himself

᾿χὦ
 HOMER’S BATTLES. 201

in the midst of his thunders. ‘The same conduct is observ-

able more or less in regard to every personage of his work.
This subordination of the Heroes is one of the causes that
make each of his battles rise above the other in greatness,
terror, and importance, to the end of the poem. If Diomed
has performed all these wonders in the first combats, it is but
to raise Hector, at whose appearance he begins to fear. If
in the next battles Hector triumphs not only over Diomed,»
but over Ajax and Patrocles, sets fire to the fleet, wins the
armour of Achilles, and singly eclipses all the heroes; in the
midst of all his glory Achilles appears, and Hector flies,
and is slain. .
The manner in which his Gods are made to act, no less
advances the gradation we are speaking of. In the first
battles they are seen only in short and separate excursions:
Venus assists Paris; Minerva, Diomed; or Mars, Hector.
In the next, a clear stage is left for Jupiter, to display his
omnipotence, and turn the fate of armies alone. In the
last, all the powers of heaven are engaged and bandied into
regular parties, Gods encountering Gods, Jove encouraging |
them with his thunders, Neptune raising his tempests,
heaven flaming, earth trembling, and Pluto himself starting
from the throne of hell.
II. Iam now to take notice of some customs of antiquity
relating to the arms and art military of those times, which
are proper to be known, in order to form a tghs notion of
our author’s descriptions ofwar.
That Homer copied the manners and customs of the age
he writ of, rather than of that he lived in, has been observed
in-some instances. As that he no where represents cavalry
or trumpets to have been used in the Trojan wars, though
they apparently were in his own time. It is not therefore
impossible but there may be found in his works some defi-
ciencies in the art of war, which are not to be imputed to
his ignorance, but to his judgment.
+
402 AN ESSAY ΟΝ

Horses had not been brought into Greece long before

the siege of Troy. They were originally Eastern animals,
and if we find at that very period so great.a number of
them reckoned up in the wars of the Israelites, it is the
Jess. a wonder, considering they came from Asia... The
practice of riding them was so little known in Greece a few
years before, that they looked upon the Centaurs who first
used. it, as monsters compounded of men .and_ horses.
Nestor in the first Iliad says, he had seen these Centaurs in
his, youth, and Polypcetes in the second is said to have been
born on the day that his father expelled them from Pelion to
the deserts of Aithica. ‘They had no other use of horses than
to draw their chariots in battle; so that whenever: Homer
speaks of fighting from a horse, taming a horse, or the
like, it is constantly to be understood of fighting from a
chariot, or taming horses to that service. This (as we said)
was a piece of decorum in the poet; for in his own time
they were arrived to such a perfection in horsemanship, that
in the fifteenth Iliad, ver. 822, we have a simile taken from
an extraordinary feat of activity, where one man manages
four horses at once, and leaps from the back-of one to
another at full speed.
If we consider in what high esteem among warriors
these noble animals must have been at their first coming
into Greece, we shall the less wonderat the frequent occa-
sions Homer has taken to describe and celebrate them. It
is not so strange to find them set almost upon a level with
men, at the time when a horse in the prizes was of equal
value with a captive.
The chariots were in all probability very low.. For we ~
frequently find in the Iliad, that a person who stands ereet
on achariot is killed (and sometimes
by a stroke on the
head) by a foot-soldier with a sword. This may farther
appear from the ease and readiness with which they alight
or mount on every occasion: to facilitate which, the chariots
 HNOMER’S BATTLES. 903

were made open behind... That the wheels were but small,
may be guessed from a custom they had of taking them off
and setting them on, as they were laid by, or made use of.
Hebe in the fifth book puts on. the wheels of Juno’s chariot,
when she calls for it in haste; and,it seems to be with allu-
sion to the same practice that it is saidin Exodus, chap.
xiv. The Lord took off their chariot-wheels, so that. they
drave them heavily. ‘The sides were also low; for whoever
is killed in his chariot throughout the poem; constantly falls
to the ground, as having nothing to support him. That
the whole machine was very small.and light, is evident
from a passage in the tenth Iliad, where Diomed debates
whether he shall draw the chariot of Rhesus out of the way,
or carry it on his shoulders to a place of safety. All: the
particulars agree with the representations of the chariots
on the most ancient Greek coins; where the tops of them
reach not so high as the backs of the horses,. the wheels are
yet lower, and the heroes who stand in them are seen from
the knee upwards *. This may serve to show those criticks
are under a mistake, who blame Homer for making his
Warriors sometimes retire behind their chariots, as if it
were a piece of cowardice: which was as little disgraceful
then, as it is now to alight from one’s horse in a.battle, on
any necessary emergency.
οὐ There are generally two persons in each chariot, one of
whom was wholly employed in guiding the horses. They
used indifferently two, three, or four horses: from hence it
happens, that sometimes when a horse is killed, the hero
continues the fight with the two or more that remain; and
at other times a warrior retreats upon the loss of one; not
that he has less courage than the other, but that he has
fewer horses.
Their swords were all broad cutting swords, for we find

* See the collection of Goltzius, &c.

 404. AN ESSAY ON

they never stab but with their spears. The spears were
used two ways, either to push with, or to cast from them,
like the missive javelins. It seems surprising, that a man
should throwa dart or spear with such force, as to pierce
through both sides of the armour and the body (as is often
described in Homer). For if the strength of the men was
gigantick, the armour must have been strong in proportion.
Some solution might be given for this, if we imagined the
armour was generally brass, and the weapons pointed with
iron; and if we could fancy that Homer called the spears
and swords brazen, in the same manner that he calls the
reins of a bridle zory, only from the ornaments about
them. But there are passages where the point of the spear
is expressly said to be of brass, as in the description of that
of Hector in [liad vi. Pausanias Laconicis takes it for
granted, that the arms, as well offensive as defensive, were
brass. He says the spear of Achilles was kept'in his time
in the temple of Minerva, the top and point of which were
brass; and the sword of Meriones, in that of Aésculapius
among the Nicomedians, was entirely of the same metal.
But be it as it will, there are examples even at this day of
such a prodigious force in casting darts, as almost exceeds
credibility. The Turks and Arabs will pierce through
thick. planks with darts of hardened wood; which can only
be attributed to their being bred (as the ancients were) to
that exercise, and to the strength and agility acquired by a
constant practice of it.
We may ascribe to the same cause their power of casting
stones of a vast weight, which appears a common practice
in these battles. ‘Those are in a great error, who imagine
this to be only a fictitious embellishment of the poet, which
was one of the exercises of war among the ancient Greeks
and Orientals. * St. Jerome tells us, it was an old custom
* Mos est in urbibus Palestine, et usque hodie per omnem Judeam
vetus consuetudo servatur, ut in viculis, oppidis, et castellis, rotundi
 HOMER'S BATTLES. 205

in Palestine, and in use in his own time, to have round

ΠῚ

stones of a great weight kept in the castles and villages, for

the youth to try their strength with. And the custom is yet
extant in some parts of Scotland, where stones for the
same purpose are laid at the gates of great houses, which
they call putting-stones.
_ Another consideration which will account for many things
that may seem uncouth in Homer, is the reflection that be-
fore the use of fire-arms, there was infinitely more scope
for personal valour than in the modern battles. Now when-
soever the personal strength of the combatants happened
to be unequal, the declining a single combat could not be
so dishonourable as it is in this age, when the arms we
make use of put all men ona level. Fora soldier of far
inferior strength may manage a rapier or fire-arms so ex-
pertly, as to be an overmatch to his adversary. This may
appear a sufficient excuse for what in the modern construc-
tion might seem cowardice in Homer’s heroes, when they
avoid engaging with others, whose bodily strength exceeds
their own. The maxims of valour in all times were founded
upon reason, and the cowardice ought rather in this case
to be imputed to him who braves his inferior. There was
also more /eisure in their battles before the knowledge of
fire-arms; and this in a good degree accounts for those
_ harangues his Perce make to 2 Saal other in the time of
phot
|
_ There was another practice frequently used by these an-
cient warriors, which was to spoil an enemy of his arms
after they had slain him; and this custom we see them fre-
quently pursuing with such eagerness, as if they looked on
| their ictory not complete till this point was gained. Some

yonantur lapides gravissimi ponderis, ad quos juvenes exercere se solent,

et 608 pro varietate virium sublevare, alii ad genua, alii ad umbilicum,
alii ad humeros, alii ad caput; nonnulli super verticem, rectis junctisque
manibus, magnitudinem virium demonstrantes, pondus attollunt.
206 AN ESSAY ON

modern criticks have accused them of avarice on account of

this practice, which might probably arise from the great
value and scarceness of armour in that early time and in-
fancy of war. Itafterwards’ became a point of honour,
like gaining aistandard from theenemy. Moses and David
speak of the pleasure of obtaining many spoils. They pre-
served them as monuments of victory, and even religion at
last became interested herein, when those spoils were con-
secrated in the temples of the tutclar Deities of the con-
queror.
The reader may easily see, I set down these heads just
as they occur to my memory, ‘and only as hints to farther
observations; which any one who is conversant in Homer
cannot fail to make, if he will but think a little in the same
track.
Isis no part of my design to enquire what progress had
been madein the art of war at this early period: the bare
perusal of the Iliad will best inform us of it. But what I
think tends more immediately to the better comprehension
of these descriptions, is to give a short view of the scene of
war, the situation of Troy, and those places which Homer
mentions, with the proper field of each battle: putting to-
gether, for this purpose, those ‘passages in my author that
give any light to this matter.
The ancient city of Troy stood at a greater distance from
the sea, than those ruins which have since been shewn for
it. ‘This may be gathered from Iliad v. ver. (of the origi-
nal) 791, where it is said, that the Trojans’ never durst
sally out of the walls of their town, till the retirement of
Achilles; but afterwards combated the Grecians at their very
ships, fur from the city. For had ‘Troy stood (as Strabo
observes) so nigh the sea-shore, it had been madness in the
Greeks not to have built any fortification before their fleet
till the tenth year of their siege, when the enemy was so
near them: and on the other hand, it had been cowardice
3
 HOMER’S BATTLES. 207

in’ the Trojans not to have attempted any thing all that
time, against an army that lay unfortified and unintrenched.
ως
Besides the intermediaté space had been too small to afford
a field for so: many various adventures and actions of war.
The places about Troy particularly mentioned by Homer
lie in this order.
1, The Scan gate. This opened to the field of battle,
and was that through which the Trojans’ made their excur-
sions. Close to this stood the leech-tree, sacred to Jupiter,
which Homer generally mentions with it.
2. The hill of wild fig-trees.. It joined to the-walls of
Troy on one side, and extended to ‘the highway on° the
other. «The first appears from what Andromache says in
Tliad vi. ver. 432, that the walls were in danger of being
scaled from this hill; and the last from I]. xxii. ver. 145, &c.
3. The two'springs of Scamander. These were ἃ little
higher on the same highway. (Ibid.) ,
4. Callicolone, the name of a pleasant hill, that lay near
the river Simois, on the other side of the town. 1]. xx.
ver. 53.
5. Bateia, or the sepulchre of Myrinne, stood alittle be-
fore the city in the plain. I. ii. ver. 318 of the Catalogue.
- 6. The monument of Ilus: near the middle of the plain.
I]. xi. ver 166.
7. Thetomb of Adsyetes commanded the prospect of the
fleet, and that part of the sea coast. 1]. ii. ver. 301, of
_ the Catalogue.
It seems by the 368th verse of the second Iliad, that the
Grecian army was drawn up under the several leaders by
the banks of Scamander, on that side towards the ships: in
the mean time that of Troy and the auxiliaries was ranged
in order at Myrinne’s sepulchre. Ibid. ver. $20, of the
Catalogue. The place of the first battle, where \ Diomed
performs his exploits, was near the joining’ of Simois and
Scamander : for Juno and Pallas coming to him, alight at

ἢ
208 AN ESSAY ON

the confluence of those rivers. Il. v. ver. 773, and that the
Greeks had not yet past the stream, but fought on that side
next the fleet, appears from ver. 791 of the same book,
where Juno says the Trojans now brave them at their very
ships. But in the beginning of the sixth book, the place of
battle is specified to be between the rivers of Simois and
Scamander; so that the Greeks (though Homer does not
particularize when, or in what manner) had then crossed
the stream toward Troy.
The engagement in the eighth book is evidently close to
the Grecian fortification on the shore. That night Hector
lay at Ilus’s tomb in the field, as Dolon tells us, Lib. x. ver.
415. And in the eleventh book the battle is chiefly about
Ilus’s tomb.
In the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth, about the for-
tification of the Greeks, and in the fifteenth at the ships.
In the sixteenth, the Trojans being repulsed by Patro-
clus, they engage between the fleet, the river, and the Gre-
cian wall: see ver. 396. Patroclus still advancing, they
fight at the gates of Troy, ver. 700. In the seventeenth,
the fight about the body of Patroclus is under the Trojan
wall, ver. 403. His body being carried off, Hector and
/Eneas pursue the Greeks to the fortification, ver. 760.
And in the eighteenth, upon Achilles’s appearing, they re-
tire and encamp without the fortification.
In the twentieth, the fight is still on that side next the
sea; for the Trojans being pursued by Achilles, pass over
the Scamander as they run toward Troy: see the beginning
of book xxi. The following battles are either in the river
itself, or between that and the city, under whose walls
Hector is killed in the twenty-second book, which puts an
end to the battles of the Iliad,
N. B. The verses alove are ciied according to the number of
lines in the Greek. P.
The preceding essay isa very pleasing and judicious com-
 HOMER’S BATTLES. 209

position; equally commendable for pertinence of remark,

a neat simplicity of expression, elegance of thought, and
felicity of illustration: and may serve as an admirable ex-
emplification of a sentiment somewhere delivered by himself,
that none but a poet is completely qualified to become a com-
mentator to another poet ; such are the sympathies of real
genius ! τ W.

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 THE

FIFTH BOOK
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 THE ARGUMENT.

THE ACTS OF DIOMED.

Diomep, assisted ly Pallas, performs wonders in this

day’s battle. Pandarus wounds him with an arrow, but the
Goddess cures him, enables him to discern Gods from mortals,
and prohilits him from contending with any of the former,
excepting Venus. Aineas joins Pandarus to oppose him,
Pandarus is killed, and A2neas in great danger but for the
assistance of Venus; who, as she is removing her son from the
fight, is wounded on the hand by Diomed. Apollo seconds
her in his rescue, and at length carries off AEneas to Troy,
where he 1s healed in the Temple of Pergamus. Mars rallies
ihe Trojans, and assists Hector to make a stand. In the mean
time Eneas is restored to the field, and they overthrow several
of the Grecks; among the rest Tlepolemus is slain by Sarpedon.
Juno and Minerva descend to resist Mars; the latter incites
Diomed to go against that God; he wounds him, and sends
him groaning to Heaven.
The first battle continues through this book. The scene ts
the same as in the former. A
 FIFTH BOOK

OF THE

I LIA D.

Bur Pallas now Tydides’ soul inspires,

Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires,
Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,
And crown her hero with distinguish’d praise.

’ Ver. 1. Tydides.] That we may enter into the spirit and beauty
of this book, it will be proper to settle the true character of
Diomed, who is the hero of it. Achilles is no sooner retired, but
Homer raises his other Greeks to supply his absence; like stars that
shine each in his due revolution, till the principal hero rises again,
and eclipses all others. As Diomed is the first in this office, he
seems to have more of the character of Achilles than any besides.
He has naturally an excess of boldness, and too much fury in his
temper ; forward and intrepid like the other, and running after
Gods or men promiscuously as they offer themselves. But what
differences his character is, that he is soon reclaimed by advice,
hears those that are more experienced, and in a word, obeys
Minerva in all things. He is assisted by the patroness of wisdom
and arms, as he is eminent both for prudence and valour. That
which characterises his prudence, is a quick sagacity and presence
of mind in all emergencies, and an undisturbed readiness in the
very article of danger, And what is particular in his valour is
agreeable to these qualities ;his actions being always performed
214 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

High on his helm celestial lightnings play, 5

His beamy shield emits a living ray;
The’ unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires the’ autumnal skies,
When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight,
And bathed in Ocean, shoots a keener light. 10
Such glories Pallas on the chief bestow’d,
Such, from his arms, the fierce effulgence flow’d:
Onward she drives him, furious to engage,
Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage.
The sons of Dares first the combat sought, 15
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault ;

with remarkable dexterity, activity, and dispatch. As the gentle

and manageable turn of his mind seems drawn with an opposition
to the boisterous temper of Achilles, so his bodily excellencies seem
designed asin contrast to those of Ajax, who appears with great
strength, but heavy and unwieldy. As he is forward to act in the
field, so he is ready to speak in the council : but ’tis observable that
his councils still incline to war, and are biassed rather on the side
of bravery than caution. Thus he advises to reject the proposals
of the Trojans in the seventh book, and not to accept of Helen
herself, though Paris should offer her. In the ninth he opposes
Agamemnon’s proposition to return to Greece, in so strong a
manner, as to declare he will stay and continue the siege himself if
the general should depart. And thus he hears, without concern
Achilles’s refusal of a reconciliation, and doubts not to be able to
earry on the war without him. As for his private character, he
appears a gallant lover of hospitality in his behaviour to Glaucus
in the sixth book: a lover of wisdom in his assistance of Nestor in
the eighth, and his choice of Ulysses to accompany him in the
tenth: upon the whole, an open sincere friend, and a generous
enemy. Tan
Ver. 9.] The original of this fine couplet is only this:
And shines most bright, when bathed in ocean’s wave. W.
Ver. 11.] Homer has only a single verse and a single clause, to
this effect :
So clear a light his head and shoulders flamed. W.
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. ΟἹὅ

In Vulcan’s fane the father’s days were led,

The sons to toils of glorious battle bred;
These singled from their troops the fight maintain,
These from their steeds, Tydides on the plain. 90
Fierce for renown the brother chiefs draw near,
And first bold Phegeus cast his sounding spear,
Which o’er the warrior’s shoulder took its course,
And spent in empty air its erring force.
Not so, Tydides, flew thy lance in vain, 25
But pierced his breast, and stretch’d him on the plain.
Seized with unusual fear, Idzeus fled,
Left the rich chariot, and his brother dead.
And had not Vulcan lent celestial aid,
He too had sunk to death’s eternal shade ; 30
But in a smoky cloud the God of fire
Preserved the son in pity to the sire.
The steeds and chariot, to the navy led,’
Encreased the spoils of gallant Diomed.
Struck with amaze and shame, the Trojan crew
Or slain, or fled, the sons of Dares view ; 36
When by the blood-stain’d hand Minerva prest
The God of battles, and this speech addrest.
Stern power of war! by whom the mighty fall,
Who bathe in blood, and shake the lofty wall! 40

Ver. 26.] The latter clause of this verse is not in Homer, but
was supplied by Dacier: “ I] va donner dans l’estomach de Phegée
“ gu? al étend mort sur la poussiére.” W.
Ver 31.] Homer only says, covered him in darkness ; and this
allusion to Vulcan’s occupation degrades the passage. W.
Ver. 40. Who bathe in blood.| It may seem something unnatural,
that Pallas, at a time when she is endeavouring to work upon Mars
under the appearance of benevolence and kindness, should make use
916 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.
Let the brave chiefs their glorious toils divide;
And whose the conquest mighty Jove decide;
While we from interdicted fields retire,
Nor tempt the wrath of heaven’s avenging Sire.
Her words allay’d the’ impetuous warrior’s heat,
The God of arms and martial Maid retreat; 46
Removed from fight, on Xanthus’ flowery bounds
They sat, and listen’d to the dying sounds.
Meantime, the Greeks the Trojan race pursue,
And some bold chieftain every leader slew: 50

of terms which seem so full of bitter reproaches; but these will

appear very properly applied to this warlike Deity. For persons of
this martial character, who scorning equity and reason, carry all
things by force, are better pleased to be celebrated for their power
than their virtue. Statues are raised to the conquerors, that is,
the destroyers of nations, who are complimented for excelling in
the arts of ruin. Demetrius the son of Antigonus was celebrated
by his flatterers with the title of Poliorcetes, a term equivalent to
the one here made use of. Ρ,
More correctly in the first edition:
Who bath'st in blood, and shak’st the lofty wall. W.
Ver. 46.] The God of arms and martial Maid retreat.| The
retreat of Mars from the ‘Trojans intimates that courage forsook
them: it may be said then, that Minerva’s absence from the Greeks
will signify that wisdom deserted them also. It is true she does
desert them ; but it is at a time when there was more occasion for
gallant actions than for wise counsels. Eustathius. Yr.
Ver. 49. The Greeks the Trojan race pursue.| Homer always
appears very zealous for the honour of Greece, which alone might
be a proof of his being of that country, against the opinions of those
who would have him of other nations.
It is observable through the whole Iliad that he endeavours
every where to represent the Greeks as superior to the Trojans in
valour and the art of war.. In the beginning of the third book he
describes the Trojans rushing on to the battle in a barbarous and
confused manner, with loud shouts and cries, while the Greeks
advance in the most profound silence and exact order. And in the
latter part of the fourth book, where the two armies march to the
I
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 217
First Odius falls, and bites the bloody sand,
His death ennobled by Atrides’ hand ;
As he to flight his wheeling car addrest,
The speedy javelin drove from back to breast.
In dust the mighty Halizonian lay, 55
His arms resound, the spirit wings its way.
Thy fate was next, O Pheestus ! doom’d to feel
The great Idomeneus’ protended steel;
Whom Borus sent (his son and only joy)
From fruitful Tarné to the fields of Troy. 60
The Cretan javelin reach’d him from afar,
And pierced his shoulder as he mounts his car;
Back from the car he tumbles to the ground,
And everlasting shades his eyes surround.

engagement, the Greeks are animated by Pallas, while Mars insti-

gates the Trojans; the poet attributing by this plain allegory to
the former a well-conducted valour, to the latter rash strength and
brutal force: so that the abilities of each nation are distinguished
by the characters of the Deities who assist them. But in this place,
as Eustathius observes, the poet being willing to show how much
the Greeks excelled their enemies, when they engaged only with
their proper force, and when each side was alike destitute of divine
assistance, takes occasion to remove the Gods out of the battle, and
then each Grecian chief gives signal instances of valour superior to
the Trojans.
A modern critick observes, that this constant superiority of the
Greeks in the art of war, valour, and number, is contradictory to
the main design of the poem, which is to make the return of
Achilles appear necessary for the preservation of the Greeks ; but
this contradiction vanishes, when we reflect, that the affront given
Achilles was the occasion of Jupiter's interposing in favour of the
Trojans. Wherefore the anger of Achilles was not pernicious to
the Greeks purely because it kept him inactive, but because it oc~
casioned Jupiter to afflict them in such a manner, as made it
necessary to appease Achilles, in order to render Jupiter propi-
tious. :
 218 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Y.
Then died Scamandrius, expert in the chace, 65
In woods and wilds to wound the savage race ;
Diana taught him all her sylvan arts,
To bend the bow, and aim unerring darts :
But vainly here Diana’s arts he tries,
The fatal lance arrests him as he flies; _ 70
From Menelaiis’ arm the weapon sent,
Through his broad back and heaving bosom went :
Down sinks the warrior with a thundering sound,
His brazen armour rings against the ground.
Next artful Phereclus untimely fell; 75
Bold Merion sent him to the realms of hell.
Thy father’s skill, O Phereclus, was thine,
The graceful fabric and the fair design;
For loved by Pallas, Pallas did impart
To him the shipwright’s and the builder’s art. 80
Beneath his hand the fleet of Paris rose,
The fatal cause of all his country’s woes;
But he, the mystick will of Heaven unknown,
Nor saw his country’s peril, nor his own.
The hapless artist, while confused he fled, 85
The spear of Merion mingled with the dead.
Ver. 75. Next artful Phereclus.] This character of Phereclus
is finely imagined, and presents a noble moral in an uncommon
manner. There ran a report, that the Trojans had formerly re-
ceived an oracle, commanding them to follow husbandry, and not
apply themselves to navigation. Homer from hence takes occasion
to feign, that the shipwright who presumed to build the fleet of
Paris when he took his fatal voyage to Greece, was overtaken by
the divine vengeance so long after as in this battle. One may
take notice too in this, as in many other places, of the remarkable
disposition Homer shews to mechanicks ; he never omits an oppor-
tunity either of describing a piece of workmanship, or of cele
brating an artist. P.
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 219
Through his right hip with forceful fury cast,
Between the bladder and the bone it past :
Prone on his knees he falls with fruitless cries,
And death in lasting slumber seals his eyes. 90
From Meges’ force the swift Pedzeus fled,
Antenor’s offspring from a foreign bed;
Whose generous spouse, Theano, heavenly fair,
Nursed the young stranger with a mother’s care.

Ver. 93. Whose generous spouse, Theano.]} Homer in this re-

markable passage commends the fair Theano for breeding up a bas-
tard of her husband’s with the same tenderness as her own children,
This lady was a woman of the first quality, and (as it appears in
the sixth Iliad) the high priestess of Minerva: so that one cannot
imagine the educationof this child was imposed upon her by the
autliority or power of Antenor; Homer himself takes care to re-
move any such derogatory notion, by particularising the motive of
this unusual piece of humanity to have been to please her husband,
χαριζομνένη πόσεἰὦ. Nor ought we to lessen this commendation by
thinking the wives of those times in general were more complaisant
than those of our own. The stories of Phoenix, Clytemnestra
Medea, and many others, are plain instances how highly the keep-
ing of mistresses was resented by the married ladies. But there
was a difference between the Greeks and Asiatics as to their no-
tions of marriage: for it is certain the latter allowed plurality of
wives ; Priam had many lawful ones, and some of them princesses
who brought great dowries. Theano was an Asiatic, and that is
the most we can grant ; for the son she nursed so carefully was ap-
parently not by a wife, but by a mistress; and her passions were
naturally the same with those of the Grecian women. As to the
degree of regard then shewn to the bastards, they were carefully
enough educated, though not (like this of Antenor) as the lawful
issue nor admitted to an equal shareof inheritance. Megapenthesand
Nicostratus were excluded from the inheritance of Sparta, because
they were bornof bond-women as Pausanias says. But Neoptole-
mus, a natural son of Achilles by Deidamia, succeeded in his fa-
ther’s kingdom, perhaps with respect to his mother’s quality, who
was a princess. Upon the whole, however that matter stood,
Homer was very favourable to bastards, and has paid them more
compliments than one in his works, If I am not mistaken, Ulysses
4
 u
.

220 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V..

How vain those cares! when Meges in the rear 95
Full in his nape infix’d the fatal spear; Patt
Swift through his crackling jaws the weapon glides,
And the cold tongue and grinning teeth divides.
Then died Hypsenor, generous and divine,
Sprung from the brave Dolopion’s mighty line, 100
Who near adored Scamander made abode,
Priest of the stream, and honour’d as a God.
On him, amidst the flymg numbers found,
Eurypylus inflicts a deadly wound ;

reckons himself one in the Odysseis. Agamemnon in the eighth

Iliad plainly accounts it no disgrace, when charmed with the noble
exploits of young Teucer, and praising him in the rapture of his
heart, he just then takes occasion to mention his illegitimacy as a
kind of panegyrick upon him. The reader may consult the passage
ver. 284 of the original, and ver. 343 of the translation. From
all this I should not be averse to believe, that Homer himself was
a bastard, as Virgil was, of which I think this observation a bet-
ter proof, than what is said for it in the common livesof him. P.
Ver. 97.] Literally thus:
Beneath his teeth the steel cut sheer his tongue :
He fell in dust, and the cold weapon bit. Ww.
Ver. 99. Hypsenor, generous and divine,
Sprung from the great Dolopion’s mighty line,
Who near adored Scamander made abode ;
Priest of the stream, and honour’d as a God.]
From the number of circumstances put together here, and in many
other passages, of the parentage, place of abode, profession, and
quality of the persons our author mentions ; I think it is plain he
composed his poem from some records or traditions of the actions
of the times preceding, and complied with the truth of history.
Otherwise these particular descriptions of genealogies and other
minute circumstances would have been an affectation extremely
needless and unreasonabie. This consideration will account for
several things that seem old or tedious, not to add that one may
naturally believe he took these occasions of paying a compliment to
many great men and families of his patrons, both in Greece and
Asia, P.
 ᾧ
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 221
On his broad shoulders fell the forceful brand, 105
Thence glancing downward lopp’d his holy hand,
Which stain’d with sacred blood the blushing sand.
Down sunk the priest ; the purple hand of Death
Closed his dim eye, and Fate suppress’d his breath.
Thus toil’d the chiefs, in different parts engaged ;
In every quarter fierce Tydides raged, 111
Amid the Greek, amid the Trojan train,
Rapt through the ranks he thunders o’er the plain:
Now here, now there, he darts from place to place,
- Pours on the rear, or lightens in their face. 115
Thus from high hills the torrents, swift and strong,
Deluge whole fields, and sweep the trees along ;
Through ruin’d moles the rushing wave resounds,
O’erwhelms the bridge, and bursts the lofty bounds:
The yellow harvests of the ripened year, 120
And flatted vineyards, one sad waste appear!
While Jove descends in sluicy sheets of rain,
And all the labours of mankind are vain.
So raged. Tydides, boundless in his ire,
Drove armies back, and made all Troy retire. 125
With grief the * leader of the Lycian band
Saw the wide waste of his destructive hand :
His bended bow against the chief he drew ;
Swift to the mark the thirsty arrow flew,

Ver.111.] This elegant and animated description, contained

in this and the four following verses, is dilated from a couplet of
his author, of which the following is a literal version :
With whom Tydides mixt, thou hadst not known,
If to the Trojans he belong’d, or Greeks. Ww.
* Pandarus,
 δ

922, HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK ν.

Whose forky point the hollow breast-plate tore, 130
Deep in his shoulder pierced, and drank the gore :
The rushing stream his brazen armour dyed,
While the proud archer thus exulting cried.
Hither ye Trojans, hither drive your steeds !
Lo! by our hand the bravest Grecian bleeds. 135
Not long the deathful dart he can sustain ;
Or Phoebus urged me to these fields in vain.
So spoke he, boastful; but the winged dart
Stopt short of life, and mock’d the shooter’s art.
The wounded chief, behind his car retir’d, 140
The helping hand of Sthenelus requir’d;
Swift from his seat he leap’d upon the ground,
_ And tugg’d the weapon from the gushing wound;
When thus the King his guardian power addrest,
The purple current wandering o’er his vest. 145
O progeny of Jove! unconquer’d maid!
If e’er my godlike sire deserved thy aid,
If e’er I felt thee in the fighting field,
Now, Goddess, now, thy sacred succour yield.
Oh give my lance to reach the Trojan knight, 150
Whose arrow wounds the chief thou guard’st in fight;
And lay the boaster groveling on the shore,
That vaunts these eyes shall view the light no more.
Thus pray’d Tydides, and Minerva heard;
His nerves confirm’d, his languid spirits chear’d; 155
He feels each hmb with wonted vigour light;
His beating bosom claim’d the promised fight.
Ver. 157.] This line is stiff and aukward, nor correspondent
to his original. Thus?
ΒΟΟΚ Υ. HOMER’s ILIAD. 998
Be bold (she cried) in every combat shine,
War be thy province, thy protection mine ;
Rush to the fight, and every foe control; 160
Wake each paternal virtue in thy soul:
Strength swells thy boiling breast, infused by me,
And all thy godlike father breathes in thee!
Yet more, from mortal mists I purge thy eyes,
And set to view the warring Deities. 165
These see thou shun, through all the’ embattled plain,
Nor rashly strive where human force is vain.
If Venus mingle in the martial band,
Her shalt thou wound: so Pallas gives command.
With that the blue-eyed virgin wing’d her flight;
The hero rush’d impetuous to the fight ; 171
With tenfold ardour now invades the plain,
Wild with delay, and more enraged by pain.
As on the fleecy flocks, when hunger calls,
Amidst the field a brindled lion falls ; 175

She makes each limb with wonted vigour light;

And thus exhorts him to renew the fight:
Be bold, Tydides! in each combat shine. Ae
Ver. 164. From mortal mists I purge thy eyes.) This fiction of
Homer (says M. Dacier) is founded upon an important truth of
religion, not unknown to the Pagans, that God only can open the
eyes of men, and enable them to see what they cannot discover by
their own capacity. There are frequent examples of this in the
Old Testament. God opens the eyes of Hagar that she might see
the fountain, in Genes. xxi. ver. 19. So Numbers xxii. ver. 31.
The Lord opened the eyes of Balaam, and he saw the Angel of the
Lord standing in his way, and his sword drawn in his hand. A pas-
sage much resembling this of our author. Venus in Virgil’s second
/Eneid performs the same office to /Eneas, and shews him the
Gods who were engaged in the destruction of Troy, P.
994 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

If chance some shepherd with a distant dart

The savage wound, he rouses at the smart,
He foams, he roars; the shepherd dares not stay,
But trembling leaves the scattering flocks a prey ;
Heaps fall on heaps ; he bathes with blood the ground,
Then leaps victorious o’er the lofty mound. 181
Not with less fury stern Tydides flew ;
And two brave leaders at an instant slew:
Astynous breathless fell, and by his side
His people’s pastor, good Hypenor died; 185
Astynous’ breast the deadly lance receives,
Hypenor’s shoulder his broad falchion cleaves.
Those slain he left ; and sprung with noble rage
Abas and Polyidus to engage ;
Sons ef Eurydamas, who, wise and old, 190
Could fates foresee, and mystick dreams unfold;
The youths return'd not from the doubtful plain,
And the sad father tried his arts in vain;
No mystick dream could make their fates appear,
Though now determined by Tydides’ spear. 195
Young Xanthus next, and Thoon felt his rage ;
The joy and hope of Phzenops’ feeble age;
Vast was his wealth, and these the only heirs
Of all his labours, and a life of cares.
Cold death o’ertakes them in their blooming years,
And leaves the father unavailing tears : 201

Ver. 192.] The following couplet contains what appears to me

the sense of Homer :
No dreams to them, departing for the war,
Their sire explain’d: Tydides slew them there. W.
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 995

To strangers now descends his heapy store,

The race forgotten, and the name no more.
Two sons of Priam in one chariot ride,
Glittering in arms, and combat side by side. 205
As when the lordly lion seeks his food
Where grazing heifers range the lonely wood,
He leaps amidst them with a furious bound,
Bends their strong necks, and tears them to the
ground :
So from their seats the brother-chiefs are torn, 210
᾿ς Their steeds and chariot to the navy borne.
With deep concern divine Aineas view’d
The foe prevailing, and his friends pursued ;
-

Ver. 904.1 It were easy to preserve the names of his author:

Chromius, Echemon, sons of Priam, ride
In the same car, and combat side by side. W.
Ver. 211.] More accurately:
Their steeds and armour to the navy borne. W.
Ver. 212. Divine Aneas.] It is here neas begins to act: and
if we take a view of the whole episode of this hero in:Hlomek: where
he makes but an under part, it will appear that Virgil has kept him
perfectly in the same character in his poem, where he shines as the
first hero. His piety and his valour, though not drawn at so full
a length, are marked no less in the original than in the copy. It
is the manner of Homer to express very strongly the character of
each of his persons in the first speech he is made to utter in the
poem. In this of Aineas, there is a great air of piety in those
strokes, Ishe some God who punishes Troy for having neglected his
sacrifices ? And then that sentence, The anger of heaven ts terrible.
When he isin danger afterwards, he is saved by the heavenly assis-
tance of two Deities at once, and his wounds cured in the holy
temple of Pergamus by Latonaand Diana. As to his valour, he
is second only to Hector, and in personal bravery as great in the
Greek author as in the Roman. He is made to exert himself on
emergences of the first importance and hazard, rather than on com~
mon occasions : he checks Diomed here in the midst of his fury;
in the thirteenth book defends his friend Deiphobus before it was
VOL. I. Q
226 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Vv.

Through the thick storm of singing spears he flies,

Exploring Pandarus with careful eyes. 215
At length he found Lycaon’s mighty son ;
To whom the chief of Venus’ race begun,
Where, Pandarus, are all thy honours now,
‘Thy winged arrows and unerring bow,
Thy matchless skill, thy yet-unrivall’d fame, 220
And boasted glory of the Lycian name ?
Oh pierce that mortal! if we mortal call
That wonderous force by which whole armies fall;
Or God incensed, who quits the distant skies
To punish Troy for slighted sacrifice ; 225

his turn to fight, being placed in one of the hindmost ranks (which
Homer, to take off all objections to his valour, tells us happened
because Priam had an animosity to him, though he was one of the
bravest of the army). He is one of those who rescue Hector when
he is overthrown by Ajax in the fourteenth book. And what alone
were sufficient to establish him a first-rate hero, he is the first that
dares resist Achilles himself at his return to the fight in all his rage
for the loss of Patroclus. He indeed avoids encountering two at
once in the present book; and shows upon the whole a sedate and
deliberate courage, which if not so glaring as that of some others,
is yet more just. It is worth considering how thoroughly Virgil
penetrated into all this, and saw into the very idea of Homer; so
as to extend and call forth the whole figure in its full dimensions
and colours, from the slightest hints and sketches which were but
casually touched by Homer, and even in some points too, where
they were rather left to be understood, than expressed. And this,
by the way, ought. to be considered by those criticks who object to
Virgil’s hero the want of that sort of courage which strikes us so
much in Homer's Achilles. AZneas was not the creature of Virgil’s
imagination, but one whom the world was already acquainted with,
and expected to see continued in the same character ; and one who
perhaps was chosen for the hero of the Latin poem, not only as he
was the founder of the Roman empire, but as this more calm and
regular character better agreed. with theὗς and genius of the
poet himself. P.
 BOOK Υ͂, HOMER’s ILIAD. 997
(Which oh avert from our unhappy state !
For what so dreadful as celestial hate ?)
Whoe’er he be, propitiate Jove with prayer;
If man, destroy ; if God, intreat to spare.
To him the Lycian. Whom your eyes behold, 230
If right I judge, is Diomed the bold:
Such coursers whirl him o’er the dusty field,
So towers his helmet, and so flames: his shield.
If ’tis a God, he wears that chief’s disguise;
Or if that chief, some guardian of the skies 235
Involved in clouds, protects him in the fray,
And turns unseen the frustrate dart away.
I wing’d an arrow, which not idly fell,
The stroke had fix’d him to the gates of hell;
And, but some God, some angry God withstands,
His fate was due to these unerring hands. 94]
Skill’d in the bow, on foot I sought the war,
Nor join’d swift horses to the rapid car. ©
Ten polish’d chariots I possess’d at home,
And still they grace Lycaon’s princely dome: 245

Ver. 229.] This is a beautiful addition: but they, who think

it unable to atone for the preceding insipid couplet, may substitute
these two verses for the four:
Fierce is the wrath of Gods! but thou with prayer
Great Jove propitiate, and entreat to spare. ;
Ver. 224. Ten polish’d chariots.] Among the many pictures
Homer gives us of the simplicity of the heroick age, he mingles
from time to time some hints of an extraordinary magnificence.
We have here a prince who has all these chariots for pleasure at one
time, with their particular sets of horses to each, and the most
sumptuous coverings in their stables. But we must remember that
he speaks of an Asiatic prince, those barbarians living in great
luxury. Dacier.
Ver. 245.] Some circumstances are here suppressed, illustrative
Q2
298 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK VY.

There veil’d in spacious coverlets they stand ;

And twice ten coursers wait their lord’s command.
The good old warrior bade me trust to these,
When first for Troy I sail’d the sacred seas;
In fields, aloft, the whirling car to guide, 250
And through the ranks of death triumphant ride.
But vain with youth, and yet to thrift inclin’d,
I heard his counsels with unheedful mind;
And thought the steeds (your large supplies unknown)
Might fail of forage in the straiten’d town: 255
So took my bow and pointed darts in hand,
And left the chariots in my native land.
Too late, O friend! my rashness I deplore;
These shafts once fatal, carry death no more.
Tydeus’ and Atreus’ sons their points have found.
And undissembled gore pursued the wound. 261
In vain they bled: this unavailing bow
Serves, not to slaughter, but provoke the foe.

ofthe general spirit of this passage, which is not sufficiently appa-

rent in our poet’s translation. Chapman, though quaint and
homely, will serve to represent the force of their original :
for farre hence, where I dwell,
My horse and chariots idle stand ——
That eate white barly and blacke otes, and do no good at ail. W.
Ver. 251.] .Exactly thus:
He bade me, mounted on my steeds and car,
Conduct the Trojans through the straits of war. W.
Ver. 261. And undissembled gore pursued the wound.] The Greek
is ἀτρεκὲς αἷμωυκ. He says he is sure it was real blood that followed
his arrow ; because it was anciently a custom, particularly among
the Spartans, to have ornaments and figures of a purple colour on
their breast-plates, that the blood they lost might not be seen by the
soldiers, and tend to their discouragement. Plutarch in his Instit.
Lacon. takes notice of this point of antiquity, and I wonder it
escaped Madam Dacier in her translation. — P.
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 229

In evil hour these bended horns I strung,

And seized the quiver where it idly hung. 265
Cursed be the fate that sent me to the field,
Without a warrior’s arms, the spear and shield!
If e’er with life I quit the Trojan plain,
If e’er Isee my spouse and sire again,
This bow, unfaithful to my glorious aims, 270
Broke by my hand, shall feed the blazing flames,
To whom the leader of the Dardan race :
Be calm, nor Pheebus’ honour’d gift disgrace;
The distant dart. be praised, though here we need
‘The rushing chariot, and the bounding steed. 47
Against yon’ hero let us bend our course,
And, hand to hand, encounter force with force.
Now mount my seat, and from my chariot’s height
Observe my father’s steeds, renown’d in fight;
Practised alike to turn, to stop, to chace, 280
To dare the shock, or urge the rapid race :

Ver. 266.] Our translator runs over the remainder of this

speech very negligently. The following attempt is not unfaithful :
In evil hour, this bow was taken down
Erst from its peg, when I to lovely Troy,
A chief, with friendly aid to Hector came. |
Should I return, should ere these eyes behold
My wife, my country, and my stately dome ;
May then some hostile sword a headless trunk
My body leave, if I withhold from flames
The fragments of this weapon, useless grown. Ww.
Ver. 272.] These four lines are expanded from the following
quantity of his original:
Him answer’d thus AZneas, Trojan chief:
Talk not thou so. Ww.
Ver. 273. Nor Pheebus’ honour’dgift disgrace.] For Homer tells
us in the second book, ver. 334 of the catalogue, that the bow
and shafts of Pandarus were given him by Apollo. P.
490 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

Secure with these, through fighting fields we go;

Or safe to Troy, if Jove assist the foe.
Haste, seize the whip, and snatch the guiding rein:
The warrior’s fury let this arm sustain : 285
Or, if to combat thy bold heart incline,
Take thou the spear, the chariot’s care be mine.
O Prince! (Lycaon’s valiant son replied)
As thine the steeds, be thine the task to guide.
The horses practised to their lord’s command, 290
Shall hear the rein, and answer to thy hand.
But if unhappy, we desert the fight,
Thy voice alone can animate their flight:
Else shall our fates be number’d with the dead,
And these, the victor’s prize, in triumphled. 295
Thine be the guidance then: with spear and shield
Myself will charge this terror of the field.
And now both heroes mount the glittering car ;
The bounding coursers rush amidst the war.
Their fierce approach bold Sthenelus espied, 300
Who thus, alarm’d, to great Tydides cried.
O friend! two chiefs of force immense I see,
Dreadful they come, and bend their rage on thee :

Ver. 280.] Homer says only:

when to follow, when to fly. WwW.
Ver. 284. Haste, seize the whip, &c.] Homer means not here,
that one of the heroes should alight or descend from the chariot,
but only that he should quit the reins to the management of the
other, and stand on foot upon the chariot to fight from thence.
As one might use the expression, to descend from the ship, to signify
to quit the helm or oar, in order to take uparms. This is the note
of Eustathius, by which it appears that most of the translators are
mistaken in the sense of this passage, and among the rest Mr.
Hobbes. P.
BOOK ν: HOMER’s ILIAD. 231
Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon’s line,
And great Aineas, sprung from race divine ! 305
Enough is given to fame. Ascend thy car;
And save a life, the bulwark of our war.
At this the hero cast a gloomy look,
Fix’d on the chief with scorn, and thus he spoke.
Me dost thou bid to shun the coming fight? 310
Me wouldst thou move to base, inglorious flight ?
Know, ’tis not honest in my soul to fear,
Nor was Tydides born to tremble here.
I hate the cumbrous chariot’s slow advance,
And the long distance of the flying lance; 315
But while my nerves are strong, my force entire,
Thus front the foe, and emulate my sire.
Nor shall yon’ steeds, that fierce to fight convey
Those threatening heroes, bear them both away;
One chief at least beneath this arm shall die; 320
So Pallas tells me, and forbids to fly.
But if she dooms, and if no God withstand,
That both shall fall by one victorious hand,
Then heed my words: my horses here detain,
Fix’d to the chariot by the straiten’d rein; 325
Swift to Aineas’ empty seat proceed, é
And seize the coursers of ethereal breed:
The race of those, which once the thundering God
For ravish’d Ganymede on Tros bestow’d;

Ver. 306.] The original may be exhibited more faithfully as

follows:
Turn we our steeds; nor foremost thus expose
Thy precious life amidst this throng of foes. Ww.
232 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.
The best that e’er on earth’s broad surface run, 330
Beneath the rising or the setting sun.
Hence great Anchises stole a breed, unknown
By mortal mares, from fierce Laomedon :
Four of this race his ample stalls contain, ᾿
And two transport Atneas o’er the plain. 335
These, were the rich immortal prize our own,
Thro’ the wide world should make our glory known.
Thus while they spoke, the foe came furious on,
And stern Lycaon’s warlike race begun.
Prince, thou art met. Tho’ late in vain assail’d,
The spear may enter where the arrow fail’d. 341
He said, then shook the ponderous lance, and
flung;
On his broad shield the sounding weapon rung,
Pierced the tough orb, and in his cuirass hung.
He bleeds! the pride of Greece! (the boaster cries)
Our triumph now, the mighty warrior lies! 346
Mistaken vaunter! Diomed replied;
Thy dart has err’d, and now my spear be tried :
Ye ’scape not both; one, headlong from his car,
With hostile blood shall glut the God of war. 350
He spoke, and rising hurl’d his forceful dart,
Which driven by Pallas, pierced a vital part ;
Full in his face it enter’d, and betwixt
The nose and eye-ball the proud Lycian fixt;
Ver. 342.] None of the translators represent the elegance of
the Greek word apartrarav: moving again and again, ΝΕ ἃ view
to poise and direct. Our poet follows Chapman:
This said, he shooke, and then he threw, a lance. Ww.
Ver. 353. Full in his face it enter’d.| It has been asked, how
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 233

Crash’d all his jaws, and cleft the tongue within, 355
"Till the bright point look’d out beneath the chin.
Headlong he falls, his helmet knocks the ground ;
Earth groans beneath him, and his arms resound ;
The starting coursers tremble with affright;
The soul indignant seeks the realms of night. 360
To guard his slaughter’d friend, A‘neas flies,
His spear extending where the carcase lies;

Diomed being on foot, could naturally be supposed to give such a

wound as is described here. Were it never so improbable, the
express mention that Minerva conducted the javelin to that part,
would render this passage unexceptionable. But without having
recourse to a miracle, such a wound might be received by Pandarus,
either if he stooped, or if his enemy took the advantage of a rising
ground, by which means he might not impossibly stand higher,
though the other were in a chariot. This is the solution given by
the.ancient Scholia, which is confirmed by the lowness of the cha~
riots, observed in the Essay on Homer’s battles. P.
Besides, the paradola described by the weapon, of a curvature
regulated by the distance, the weight of the spear, and the strength
of it’s discharge, might co-operate to this direction of the wound. W.
Ver. 359.] This verse is empty and tautologous; and the
vigour of the passage is enervated by such expansion. I should
have preferred something like the following, to which his excursive
fancy would have found rhyme with ease:
Headlong he fell: clang’d his bright arms beneath:
The coursers startled ; and the chief expired. W.
Ver. 360.] His original says,
His life was loosed, and his strength relax’d. W.
‘Ver. 361. To guard his slaughter’d friend, A:neas flies.|_ This
protecting of the dead body was not only an office of piety agree-
able to the character of Aineas in particular, but looked upon as a
matter of great importance in those times. It was believed that
the very soul of the deceased suffered by the body’s remaining des-
titute of the rites of sepulture, as not being else admitted to pass
the waters of Styx. See what Patroclus’s ghost says to Achilles in
the twenty-third Iliad. See also Virgil, /Xn. vi. Whoever
considers this, will not be suprised at those long and obstinate
 434. HOMER’s ILIAD. ὍΝ Vv.
Watchful he wheels, protects it every way,
As the grim lion stalks around his prey.
O’er the fallen trunk his ample shield displayed, 365
He hides the hero with his mighty shade,
And threats aloud: the Greeks with longing eyes
Behold at distance, but forbear the prize.
Then fierce Tydides stoops: and from the fields 369
Heaved with vast force, a rocky fragment wields.
Not two strong men the’ enormous weight could raise,
Such men as live in these degenerate days.
He swung it round; and gathering strength to throw,
Discharged the ponderous ruin at the foe.
Where to the hip, the’ inserted thigh unites, 375
Full on the bone the pointed marble lights;
Through both the tendons broke the rugged stone,
And stripp’d the skin, and crack’d the solid bone.
Sunk on his knees, and staggering with his pains,
His falling bulk his bended arm sustains ; 380
combats for the bodies of the heroes, so frequent in the Iliad.
Homer thought it of such weight, that he has put this circum~
stance of want of burial into the proposition at the beginning of
his poem, as one of the chief misfortunes that befel the Greeks. P.
Ver. 371. Not two strong men.} This opinion of a degeneracy
of human size and strength in the process of ages, has been very
general. The active life and temperance of the first men, before
their native powers were prejudiced by luxury, may be supposed to
have given them this advantage. Celsus in his first book observes,
that Homer mentions no sort of diseases in the old heroick times
but what were immediately inflicted by heaven, as if their temper-
ance and exercise preserved them from all besides. Virgil imitates
this passage, with a farther allowance of the decay, in proportion
to the distance of his time from that of Homer. For he says it
was an attempt that exceeded the strength of twelve men instead of
two. | P.
ῷ
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 935

Lost in a dizzy mist the warrior lies ;

A sudden cloud comes swimming o’er his eyes.
There the brave chief who mighty numbers sway’d,
Oppress’d had sunk to death’s eternal shade;
But heavenly Venus, mindful of the love 385
She bore Anchises in the’ Idzean grove,
His danger views with anguish and despair,
And guards her offspring with a mother’s care.
About her much-loved son her arms she throws,
Her arms whose whiteness match the falling snows.
Screen’d from the foe behind her shining veil, 391
The swords wave harmless, and the javelins fail:
Safe through the rushing horse, and feather’d flight
Of sounding shafts, she bears him from the fight.
Nor Sthenelus, with unassisting hands, 395
Remain’d unheedful of his lord’s commands :
His panting steeds, removed from out the war,
He fix’d with straiten’d traces to the car.
Next rushing to the Dardan spoil, detains
The heavenly coursers with the flowing manes: 400
These in proud triumph to the fleet convey’d,
No longer now a Trojan lord obey’d.
That charge to bold Deipylus he gave,
(Whom most he loved, as brave men love the
brave)

Ver. 382.] ‘This is so expressed as to become an insignificant

redundancy. I would propose the following alterations of the
“passage, which approximate more nearly to the original:
Sunk on his knees, and staggering to the plain,
See the fallen trunk his sturdy arm sustain!
Lost in a mist, which o’er his swimming eyes
Night’s sable hand diffus'd, the warrior lis. W.

ae”
980 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V:

Then mounting on his car, resumed the rein, 40ὅ

And follow’d where Tydides swept the plain.
Meanwhile (his conquest ravish’d from his eyes)
The raging chief in chace of Venus flies:
No Goddess she commission’d to the field,
Like Pallas dreadful with her sable shield, 410
Or fierce Bellona thundering at the wall,
While flames ascend, and mighty ruins fall.
He knew soft combats suit the tender dame,
New to the field, and still a foe to fame.
Through breaking ranks his furious course he bends,
And at the Goddess his broad lance extends; 416
Through her bright veil the daring weapon drove;
The’ ambrosial veil, which all the Graces wove ;
Her snowy hand the razing steel profaned,
And the transparent skin with crimson stain’d. 420
From the clear vein a stream immortal flow’d,
Such stream. as issues from a wounded God:
Ver. 408. The chief in chace of Venus flies.| We have seen
with what ease Venus takes Paris out of the battle im the third
book, when his life was in danger from Menelaiis ; but here when
she has a charge of more importance and nearer concern, she is not
able to preserve herself or her son from the fury of Diomed. The
difference of success in two attempts so like each other, is occasioned
by that penetration of sight with which Pallas had endued her
favourite. For the Gods in their intercourse with men are not
ordinarily seen, but when they please to render themselves visible;
wherefore Venus might think herself and her son secure from the
insolence of this daring mortal ; but was in this deceived, being
ignorant of that faculty, wherewith the hero was enabled to dis-
tinguish Gods as well as men. a
Ver. 413.] This distich is superfluous, and might well be
spared. ‘The insipid expression of the second verse seems derived
from Chapman:
a Goddesse weake, and.foe to men’s renownes, W.
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 237
ΩΣ
Pure emanation! uncorrupted flood;
Unlike our gross, diseased, terrestrial blood:
ἄν
᾿

Ver. 422. Such stream as issues from awounded God.| This is

one of those passages in Homer, which have given occasion to that
famous censure of Tully and Longinus, That he makes Gods of his
heroes, and mortals of his Gods. This, taken in a general sense,
appeared the highest impiety to Plato and Pythagoras ; one of whom
has banished Homer from his commonwealth, and the other said
he was tortured in hell, for fictions of this nature. But if a due
distinction be made of a difference among beings superior to man-
kind, which both the Pagans and Christians have allowed, the
fables may be easily accounted for. Wounds inflicted on the dragon,
bruising the serpent’s head, and other such metaphorical images, are
consecrated in holy writ, and applied to angelical and incorporeal
natures, But in our author’s days they had a notion of Gods that
were corporeal, to whom they ascribed bodies, though of a more
subtile kind than those of mortals. So in this very place he supposes
them to have blood, but blood of a finer superior nature. Not-
withstanding the foregoing censures, Milton has not scrupled to
imitate and apply this to angels in the Christian system, when Satan
is wounded by Michael in his sixth book, ver. 327. Aristotle, cap.
axvi. Art, Poet. excuses Homer for following fame and common
opinion in his account of the Gods, though no way agreeable to
truth. The religion of those times taught no other notions of the
Deity, than that the Gods were beings of human forms and
passions, so that any but a real Anthropomorphite would probably
have past among the ancient Greeks for an impious heretick: they
thought their religion, which worshipped the Gods in images of
human shape, was much more refined and rational than that of
Egypt and other nations, who adored them in animal or monstrous
forms. And certainly Gods of human shape cannot justly be
esteemed or deseribed otherwise, than as a celestial race, superior
only to mortal men by greater abilities, and a more extensive degrec
of wisdom and strength, subject however to the necessary incon-
veniences consequent to corporeal beings. Cicero, in his book de
Nat. Deor. urges this consequence strongly against the Epicureans,
who though they deposed the Gods from any power in creating or
governing the world, yet maintained their existence in human forms.
This particular of the wounding of Venus seems to be a fiction
of Homer’s own brain, naturally deducible from the doctrine of
corporeal Gods abovementioned ; and considered as poetry, no way

ae
te
238 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Υ.

(For not the bread of man their life sustains, 425

Nor wine’s inflaming juice supplies their veins.)
With tender shrieks the Goddess fill’d the place,
and dropt her offspring from her weak embrace,
Him Phoebus took : he casts a cloud around 429
The fainting chief, and wards the mortal wound.
Then with a voice that shook the vaulted skies,
The king insults the Goddess as she flies.
ΠῚ with Jove’s daughter bloody fights agree,
The field of combat is no scene for thee:
Go, let thy own soft sex employ thy care, 435
Go lull the coward, or delude the fair.

shocking. Yet our author, as if he had foreseen some objection,

has very artfully inserted a justification of this bold stroke, in the
speech Dione soon after makes to Venus. For as it was natural to
comfort her daughter, by putting her in mind that many other
Deities had received as ill treatment from mortals by the permission
of Jupiter ; so it was of great use to the poet, to enumerate those
ancient fables to the same purpose, which being then generally
assented to, might obtain credit for. his own. This fine remark
belongs to Eustathius. P.
Ver. 423.] This couplet is superadded to his original, in
imitation of Dacier: “ Qui n’ est proprement que comme une
“ὁ rosée, ou une vapeur divine ; car les Dieux—n’ ont pas un sang
“ὁ terrestre et grossier comme le nétre.
Ver. 424. Unlike our gross, diseased, terrestrial blood, &c. ]
The opinion of the incorruptibility of celestial matter seems to have
been received in the time of Homer. For he makes the immortality
of the Gods to depend upon the incorruptible nature of the nutri-
ment by which they are sustained ; as the mortality of men to pro-
eeed from the corruptible materials of which they are made, and
by which they are nourished. We have several instances in him
from whence this may be inferred, as when Diomed questions
Glaucus, if he be a God or mortal, he adds, One who is sustained
by the fruits of the earth. Lab. vi. ver 175.
Ver. 431.] What says his author? merely,
At her the warlike chieftain loudly cried.
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 239
Taught by this stroke, renounce the war’s alarms,
And learn to tremble at the name of arms.
Tydides thus. ‘The Goddess, seiz’d with dread,
Confused, distracted, from the conflict fled. 440
To aid her, swift the winged Iris flew,
Wrapt in a mist above the warring crew.
The queen of Love with faded charms she found,
Pale was her cheek, and livid look’d the wound.
To Mars, who sat remote, they bent their way, 445
Far on the left, with clouds involved he lay ;
Beside him stood his lance, distain’d with gore,
And, rein’d with gold, his foaming steeds before :
Low at his knee she begg’d, with streaming eyes,
Her brother’s car, to mount the distant skies, 450
And show’d the wound by fierce Tydides given,
A mortal man, who dares encounter Heaven.

Ver. 440.] It had been better, and more accurate,

With pain distracted— W.
Ver. 442.] This extraneous notion of the mist he found in
Chapman. ἵν.
Ver. 449. Low at his knee she begg’d.| All the former English
translators make it, she fell on her knees, an oversight occasioned
by the want of a competent knowledge in antiquities (without
which no man can tolerably understand this author). For the
custom of praying on the knees was unknown to the Greeks, and
in use only among the Hebrews. P.
- I find no traces of these streaming eyes either in the original, or
elsewhere, save in the old French ἐπάνόδονον Barbin. W.
Ver. 451.] Our poet, with uncommon carelessness, has omit-
ted a speech of four verses in the original, and attempted to supply
their meaning by this couplet: in which he has exactly followed
Chapman. The reader must excuse Chapman, slightly corrected,
to show the sense ;
_ Hence bear me, brother ! and thy chariot lend,
That soon I may the’ Olympian seats ascend.
1
240 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

Stern Mars attentive hears the queen complain,

And to her hand commits the golden rein ;
She mounts the seat, oppress’d with silent woe, 455
Driven by the Goddess of the painted bow.
The lash resounds, the rapid chariot flies,
And in a moment scales the lofty skies:
There stopp’d the car, and there the coursers stood,
Fed by fair Iris with ambrosial food. 460
Before her mother, Love’s bright queen appears,
O’erwhelm’d with anguish and dissolved in tears;
She raised her in her arms, beheld her bleed,
And ask’d, what God had wrought this guilty deed ?
Then she; This insult from no God I found, 465
Animpious mortal gave the daring wound !
Behold the deed of haughty Diomed !
’T was in the son’s defence the mother bled.
The war with Troy no more the Grecians wage;
But with the Gods (the’ immortal Gods) engage. 470
.ς

A mortal hurt me, nor would he retire

From Jove himself, though arm’d with dreadful fire: W.
Ver. 462.] There is no shadow of this verse in his author ; see
above the note at ver. 449. ‘Lhe couplet represents the following
sense in Homer :
Before her mother’s knees, Dione, fell
Immortal Venus. W.
Ver. 464.] In this verse he again slurs over a speech of his
author, and thereby lessens the animation of the story. Ogilby’s
version is very homely, but accurately interprets its original.
Whom fair Dione pitying did stroke,
And, her embracing in her arms, thus spoke:
What boisterous God so rude hath been, that he
Thus like a malefactor punish’d thee ? W.
Ver. 465.] Homer had said merely,
Proud Diomed, son of Tydeus, gave the wound, W.
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 941

a
wT
Dione then. Thy wrongs with patience bear,
And share those griefs inferior powers must share :
Unnumber’d woes mankind from us sustain,
And men with woes afflict the Gods again.
The mighty Mars in mortal fetters bound, A75
And lodged in brazen dungeons under ground,
Full thirteen moons imprison’d roar’d in vain ;
Otus and Ephialtes held the chain :
Perhaps had perish’d; had not Hermes’ care
Restored the groaning God to upper air. 480
Great Juno’s self has borne her weight of pain,
The’ imperial partner of the heavenly reign :
Amphitryon’s son infix’d the deadly dart,
And fill’d with anguish her immortal heart.
Even hell’s grim king Alcides’ power confest, 488
The shaft found entrance in his iron breast ;
To Jove’s high palace for a cure he fled,
Pierced in his own dominions of the dead;

Ver. 479. Perhaps had perish’d.| Some of Homer’s censurers

have inferred from this passage, that the poet represents his Gods
subject to death ; when nothing but great misery is here described.
It is a common way of speech to use perdition and destruction for
misfortune: the language of scripture calls eternal punishment
perishing everlastingly. There is a remarkable passage to this pur-
posein Tacitus, An. vi. which very livelily represents the misera-
ble state of a distracted tyrant: it is the beginning of a letter from
Tiberius to the senate: Quid scribam vobis P. C. aut quomodo
scribam, aut quid omnino non scribam hoc tempore, Dui me Deeque
pejus perdant quam perire guotidie sentio, si scio.
He omits part of his author, which is thus neatly exhibited by
Chapman:
if his kind step-dame’s eye,
Faire Erebea, had not seene ; who told it Mercurie. W.
VOL. I, Ry

a
a
JAD HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

Where Peon, sprinkling heavenly balm around,

Assuaged the glowing pangs, and closed the wound.
Rash, impious man! to stain the blest abodes, 491
And drench his arrows in the blood of Gods!
But thou (though Pallas urged thy frantick deed)
Whose spear ill-fated makes a Goddess bleed,
Know thou, whoe’er with heavenly power contends,
Short is his date, and soon his glory ends; 496
From fields of death when late he shall retire,
No infant on his knees shall call him sire.
Strong as thou art some God may yet be found,
To stretch thee pale and gasping on the ground ; 500
Thy distant wife, Augiale the fair,
Starting from sleep with a distracted air,

Ver. 498. No infant on his knees shall call him εἴγε. This is
Homer’s manner of foretelling that he shall perish unfortunately
in battle, which is infinitely a more artful way of conveying that
thought than by a direct expression. He does not simply say; he
shall never return from the war, but intimates as much by describing
the loss of the most sensible and affecting pleasure that a warrior
can receive at his return. Of the like nature is the prophecy at
the end of this speech of the hero’s death, by representing it in a
dream of his wife’s. There are many fine strokes of this kind in
the prophetical parts of the Old Testament. Nothing is more na-~
tural than Dione’s forming these images of revenge upon Diomed,
the hope of which vengeance was so proper a topick of consolation
to Venus. ¥-
Ver. 501. Thy distant wife.| The poet seems here to compli-
ment the fair sex at the expence of truth, by concealing the
character of Aigiale, whom he has described with the disposition
of a faithful wife ;though the history of those times represents her
as an abandoned prostitute, who gave up her own person and her
husband’s crown to her lover. So that Diomed at his return from
Troy, when he expected to be received with all the tenderness of
a loving spouse, found his bed and throne possessed by an adulterer,
was forced to fly his country, and seek refuge and subsistence in
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 243

Shall rouse thy slaves, and her lost lord deplore,

The brave, the great, the glorious now no more!
This said, she wiped from Venus’ wounded palm
The sacred ichor, and infused the balm. 506
Juno and Pallas with a smile survey’d,
And thus to Jove began the blue-eyed maid.
Permit thy daughter, gracious Jove ! to tell
How this mischance the Cyprian queen befel. 510
As late she tried with passion to inflame
The tender bosom of a Grecian dame,
Allured the fair with moving thoughts of joy,
To quit her country for some youth of Troy;
The clasping zone, with golden buckles bound, 515
Razed her soft hand with this lamented wound.
The sire of Gods and men superior smil’d,
_ And, calling Venus, thus addrest his child.
Not these, O daughter, are thy proper cares,
Thee milder arts befit, and softer wars; 520
Sweet smiles are thine, and kind endearing charms,
To Mars and Pallas leave the deeds of arms.
Thus they in heaven: while on the plain below
The fierce Tydides charged his Dardan foe ;

foreign lands. Thus the offended Goddess executed her vengeance ©

by the proper effects of her own power, by involving the hero in
a series of misfortunes proceeding from the incontinence of his
wife. P.
Ver. 506.] Homer supposes the wound to be healed by the
mere application of Dione’s hand, The original runs literally
thus:
Then with both hands the ichor purged away:
The arm was heal’d, the grievous pains assuaged. W.
Ver. 521.] He might have adhered to his original :
Thine nuptial rites, and kind endearing charms, Ww.
R2
4.4.4. HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

Flush’d with celestial blood pursued his way, 525

And fearless dared the threatening God of day;
Already in his hopes he saw him kill’d,
Though screen’d behind Apollo’s mighty shield.
Thrice rushing furious, at the chief he strook;
His blazing buckler thrice Apollo shook : 530
He. tried the fourth: when breaking from the
cloud,
A more than mortal voice was heard aloud.
O son of Tydeus, cease! be wise and see
How vast the difference of the Gods and thee:
Distance immense! between the powers that shine
Above, eternal, deathless, and divine, 536
And mortal man! a wretch of humble birth,
A short-lived reptile in the dust of earth.
So spoke the God who darts celestial fires ;
He dreads his fury, and some steps retires. 540
Then Pheebus bore the chief of Venus’ race
To Troy’s high fane, and to his-holy place;
Latona there and Pheebe heal’d the wound,
With vigour arm’d him, and with glory crown’d.
This done, the patron of the silver bow 545
A phantom raised, the same in shape and show

Ver. 531.] Thisis nonsense. Substitute:

At his fourth onset, breaking from the cloud—.
The following is an exact translation of the original :
When, like some God, a fourth assault he made,
Far-darting Phoebus loudly-threatening said. W.
Ver. 532.] The original is this, as literally as I can give it: |
Reflect, Tydides! and retire; nor swell
Thy soul with godlike thoughts. Unlike the tribe
Of Gods immortal, and earth-creeping men. W.
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 245

With great Aineas; such the form he bore,

And such in fight the radiant arms he wore.
Around the spectre bloody wars are wag’d,
And Greece and Troy with clashing shields engag’d.
‘Meantime on Ilion’s tower Apollo stood, 551
And calling Mars, thus urged the raging God.
Stern power of arms, by whom the mighty fall;
Who bath’st in blood, and shak’st the’ embattled
wall,
Rise in thy wrath ; to hell’s abhorr’d abodes 555
Dispatch yon Greek, and vindicate the Gods.
First rosy Venus felt his brutal rage;
Me next he charged, and dares all heaven engage ;
The wretch would brave high heaven’s immortal sire,
His triple thunder, and his bolts of fire. 560
The God of battle issues on the plain,
Stirs all the ranks, and fires the Trojan train;
In form like Acamas, the Thracian guide,
Enraged, to Troy’s retiring chiefs he cried :
How long, ye sons of Priam! will ye fly, 565
And unrevenged see Priam’s people die ?
Still unresisted shall the foe destroy,
And stretch the slaughter to the gates of Troy ?
Lo brave Aineas sinks beneath his wound,
Not godlike Hector more in arms renown’d: 570

Ver. 553.] This attempt is a literal version of the speech:

Mars, murderous Mars! wall-shaker ! stain’d with blood !
Wilt thou not go, and drag this man from war?
Tydides, who would fight with Jove himself.
First Venus’ wrist he, close-encountering, smote;
Then rusht on me, impetuous as a God.

aden
φ40. HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

Haste all, and take the generous warrior’s part.

He said ; new courage swell’d each hero’s heart
Sarpedon first his ardent soul express’d,
And, turn’d to Hector, these bold words address’d.
Say, chief, is all thy ancient valour lost ? 575
Where are thy threats, and where thy glorious boast,
That propt alone by Priam’s race should stand
Troy’s sacred walls, nor need a foreign hand ἢ
Now, now thy country calls her wanted friends,
And the proud vaunt in just derision ends. 580
Remote they stand, while alien troops engage,
Like trembling hounds before the lion’s rage.
Far distant hence I held my wide command,
Where foaming Xanthus laves the Lycian land,
With ample wealth (the wish of mortals) blest, 585
A beauteous wife, and infant at her breast;
With those I left whatever dear could be ;
Greece, if she conquers, nothing wins from me.
Yet first in fight my Lycian baids I cheer,
And long to meet this mighty man ye fear ; 590
While Hectér idle stands, nor bids the brave
Their wives, their infants, and their altars save.
Haste, warrior, haste! preserve thy threaten’d state ;
Or one vast burst of all-involving Fate
Ver. 572.] Homer has literally,
He said, and roused the strength and soul of each. W.
Ver. 594.] Unfortunately, our translator, from the native
enthusiasm of genius, and kindled by the fire of his great exemplar,
was perpetually aiming at something more sonorous and magni-
ficent than his original. Otherwise, his exquisite taste would not
have permitted him, at a sedater season, to substitute a figure of his
own for the beautiful comparison provided to his hands, With
this view the passage might be thus adjusted:
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 947

Full o’er your towers shall fall and sweep away 595
Sons, sires, and wives, an undistinguish’d prey.
Rouse all thy Trojans, urge thy aids to fight;
These claim thy thoughts by day, thy watch by night ;
With force incessant the brave Greeks oppose; 599
Such cares thy friends deserve, and such thy foes.
Stung to the heart the generous Hector hears,
But just reproof with decent silence bears.
From his proud car the prince impetuous springs,
On earth he leaps ; his brazen armour rings. 604
‘Two shining spears are brandish’d in his hands;
Thus arm’d, he animates his drooping bands,
Revives their ardour, turns their steps from flight,
And wakes anew the dying flames of fight.
'ὶ They turn, they stand, the Greeks their fury dare,
Condense their powers, and wait the growing war.
Υ̓ As when, on Ceres’ sacred floor, the swain 611
Spreads the wide fan to clear the golden grain,
And the light chaff, before the breezes borne,
Ascends in clouds from off the heapy corn;
Ἷ
Haste, warrior !haste,—preserve thy threaten’d state ;
? Or one vast net of all-involving Fate
ΐ Full o’er your towers shall spread, and sweep away,
i
ἶ Sons, sires, and wives, an undistinguish’d prey.
And surely those, who can relish the native beauties of simplicity,
[3 will require no meretricious decorations here.
ὴ Ver. 602.] This is not found in the original, which says literally,
§ Sarpedon spake : the word stang Hector’s mind. W.
Φ
Ver. 611. Ceres’ sacred floor.| Homer calls the threshing-floor
sacred (says Eustathius) not only as it was consecrated to Ceres, but
in regard of its great use and advantage to human kind: in which
sense also he frequently gives the same epithet to cities, &c. This
simile is of an exquisite beauty. P.
248 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

The grey dust, rising with collected winds, 615

Drives o’er the barn, and whitens all the hinds;
So white with dust the Grecian host appears,
From trampling steeds, and thundering charioteers ;
The dusky clouds from labour’d earth arise,
And roll in smoking volumes to the skies. 620
Mars hovers o’er them with his sable shield,
And adds new horrors to the darken’d field:
Pleased with his charge, and ardent to fulfil
In Troy’s defence, Apollo’s heavenly will:
Soon as from fight the blue-eyed maid retires, 625
Each Trojan bosom with new warmth he fires.
And now the God, from forth his sacred fane,
Produced Atneas to the shouting train;
Alive, unharm’d, with all his Peers around,
Erect he stood, and vigorous from his wound: 630
Enquiries none they made; the dreadful day
No pause of words admits, no dull delay;
Fierce Discord storms, Apollo loud exclaims,
Fame calls, Mars thunders, and the field’s in flames.
Stern Diomed with either Ajax stood, 635
And great Ulysses, bathed, in hostile blood.
Embodied close, the labouring Grecian train
The fiercest shock of charging hosts sustain.
Unmoved and silent, the whole war they wait,
Serenely dreadful, and as fix’d as fate. 640
So when the’ embattled clouds in dark array,
Along the skies their gloomy lines display;
When now the North his boisterous rage has spent,
And peaceful sleeps the liquid element ;
4
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 249

The low-hung vapours, motionless and still, 645

Rest on the summits of the shaded hill ;
Till the mass scatters as the winds arise,
Dispersed and broken through the ruffled skies.
Nor was the general wanting to his train,
From troop to troop he toils through all the plain. 650
Ye Greeks, be men! the charge of battle bear;
Your brave associates and yourselves revere!
Let glorious acts more glorious acts inspire,
And catch from breast to breast the noble fire!
On valour’s side the odds of combat lie, 655
The brave live glorious, or lamented die ;
The wretch who trembles in the field of fame,
Meets death, and worse than death, eternal shame.
These words he seconds with his flying lance,
To meet whose point was strong Deicoon’s chance :
Aineas’ friend, and in his native place, 661
Honour’d and loved like Priam’s royal race :
Long had he fought the foremost in the field,
But now the monarch’s lance transpierced his
shield:
His shield too weak the furious dart to stay, 665
Through his broad belt the weapon forced its way;
The grizly wound dismiss’d his soul to hell,
His arms around him rattled as he fell.
Then fierce Aineas brandishing his blade,
In dust Orsilochus and Crethon laid, 670
Whose sire Didcleus, wealthy, brave, and great,
In well-built Pherz held his lofty seat :

Ver. 653.] This couplet is mere addition. Ww.

Raph
mt
 250 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.
Sprung from Alpheus’ plenteous stream! that yields
Increase of harvests to the Pylian fields.
He got Orsilochus, Didcleus he, 675
And these descended in the third degree.
Too early expert in the martial toil,
In sable ships they left their native soil,
To’ avenge Atrides: now, untimely slain,
They fell with glory on the Phrygian plain. 680
So two young mountain lions, nursed with blood
In deep recesses of the gloomy wood,
Rush fearless to the plains, and uncontroll’d
Depopulate the stalls and waste the fold;
"Till pierced at distance from their native den, 685
O’erpower’d they fall beneath the force of men.
Prostrate on earth their beauteous bodies lay,
Like mountain firs, as tall and straight as they.
Great Menelaiis views with pitying eyes,
Lifts his bright lance, and at the victor flies; 690
Mars urged him on ; yet ruthless in his hate,
The God but urged him to provoke his fate.
He thus advancing, Nestor’s valiant son
_ Shakes for his danger, and neglects his own;
Struck with the thought, should Helen’s lord be slain,
And all his country’s glorious labours vain. 696
Already met, the threatening heroes stand:
The spears already tremble in their hand;

Ver. 680.] Literally:

But them the close of death o’ershadow'd there. Ww.
Ver. 696. And all his country’s glorious labours vain.] For
(as Agamemnon said in the fourth book upon Menelaiis’s being
wounded ) if he were slain, the war would be at an end, and the
Greeks think only of returning to their country. Spondanus. P.
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 251

In rush’d Antilochus, his aid to bring,

And fall or conquer by the Spartan king. 700
These seen, the Dardan backward turn’d his course.
pny

Brave as he was, and shunn’d unequal force.

The breathless bodies to the Greeks they drew,
Then mix in combat, and their toils renew.
First Pylemenes, great in battle, bled, 705
Who, sheath’d in brass, the Paphlagonians led.
Atrides mark’d him where sublime he stood;
Fix’d in his throat, the javelin drank his blood.
The faithful Mydon, as he turn’d from fight
His flying coursers, sunk to endless night : 710
A broken rock by Nestor’s son was thrown ;
His bended arm received the falling stone,
From his numb’d hand the ivory-studded reins,
Dropt in the dust, are trail’d along the plains:
Meanwhile his témples feel a deadly wound ; 715
He groans in death, and ponderous sinks to ground:
Deep drove his helmet in the sands, and there
The head stood fix’d, the quivering legs in air,
Till trampled flat beneath the courser’s feet:
The youthful victor mounts his empty seat, 720
And bears the prize in triumph to the fleet.
Great Hector saw, and raging at the view
Pours on the Greeks ; the Trojan troops pursue:
He fires his host with animating cries,
And brings along the Furies of the skies. 725
Mars, stern destroyer !and Bellona dread,
Flame in the front, and thunder at their head:
This swells the tumult and the rage of fight;
That shakes a spear that casts a dreadful light.
2
 252 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

Where Hector march’d, the God of battles shin’d,

Now storm’d before him, and now raged behind. 731
Tydides paused amidst his full career;
Then first the hero’s manly breast knew fear.
As when some simple swain his cot forsakes;
And wide through fens an unknown journey takes;
If chance a swelling brook his passage stay, 736
And foam impervious cross the wanderer’s way,
Confused he stops, a length of country past,
Eyes the rough waves, and tired, returns at last.
Amaz’d no less the great Tydides stands; 740
He staid, and turning, thus address’d his bands.
No wonder, Greeks! that all to Hector yield—
Secure of favouring Gods he takes the field;
His strokes they second, and avert our spears:
Behold where Mars in mortal arms appears! 745
Retire then, warriors, but sedate and slow;
Retire, but with your faces to the foe.
Trust not too much your unavailing might;
Tis not with Troy, but with the Gods ye fight.
Now near the Greeks, the black battalions drew;
And first two leaders valiant Hector slew: ~= 751

Ver. 735.]| Rather, as more accurate:

And through wide plains an unknown journey takes. W.
Ver. 742.] This line is intended to concentrate two of his
duthor, which run thus:
Friends! how illustrious Hector we admire,
Fierce with his spear become, and bold in war. W.
Ver. 746.] He might have comprehended his author in equal
compass with more fidelity:
Retire, but on the foe your faces turn,
Nor ’gainst the Gods with hostile fury burn. Ww.
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 253

His force Anchialus and Mnesthes found,

In every art of glorious war renown’d;
In the same car the chiefs to combat ride,
And fought united, and united died. 755
Struck at the sight, the mighty Ajax glows
With thirst of vengeance, and assaults the foes;
His massy spear with matchless fury sent,
Through Amphius’ belt and heaving belly went :
Amphius Apesus’ happy soil possess’d, 760
With herds abounding, and with treasure bless’d;
But fate resistless from his country led
The chief to perish at his people’s head.
Shook with his fall his brazen armour rung,
And fierce,to seize it, conquering Ajax sprung; 765
Around his head an iron tempest rain’d;
A wood of spears his ample shield sustain’d;
Beneath one foot the yet-warm corpse he prest,
And drew his javelin from the bleeding breast :
He could no more; the showering darts denied 770
To spoil his glittering arms, and plumy pride.
Now foes on foes came pouring on the fields,
With bristling lances, and compacted shields;
Till in the steely circle straiten’d round,
Forced he gives way, and sternly quits the ground.
While thus they strive, Tlepolemus the great, 776
Urged by the force of unresisted fate,
Burns with desire Sarpedon’s strength to prove;
Alcides’ offspring meets the son of Jove.
Ver, 756.] Homer says literally:
Them the great Ajax pitied as they fell. Ww.
4.84. HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK. V:

Sheath’d in bright arms each adverse chief came on,

Jove’s great descendant, and his greater son. 781
Prepared for combat, ere the lance he tost,
The daring Rhodian vents his haughty boast.
What brings this Lycian counsellor so far,
To tremble at our arms, not mix in war ἢ 785
Know thy vain self, nor let their flattery move,
Who style thee son of cloud-compelling Jove.
How far unlike those chiefs of race divine!
How vast the difference of their deeds and thine !
Jove got such heroes as my sire, whose soul - 790
No fear could daunt, nor earth, nor hell control.
Troy felt his arm, and yon’ proud ramparts stand
Raised on the ruins of his vengeful hand:
With six small ships, and but a slender train,
He left the town a wide deserted plain. 795

Ver. 784. What brings this Lycian counsellor so far.| There

is a particular sarcasm in Tlepolemus’s calling Sarpedon in this place
Λυκίων BeanQope, Lycian counsellor, one better skilled in oratory
than war ; as he was the Governor of a people who had long been
in peace, and probably (if we may guess from his character in
Homer) remarkable for his speeches. This is rightly observed by
Spondanus, though not taken notice of by M. Dacier. P.
Ver. 787. ] What could induce him not to express his original?
Who style thee son of @gis-bearing Jove. Bry SapWG
Ver. 790.] This couplet is neither pleasing to my taste, nor
expressive of Homer's sense. Something like the following I would
propose:
Jove’s genuine sons: like them, my sire, whose soul
Of lion.-frame no terrors could control. W.
Ver. 792. Troy felt his arm.] He alludes to the history of the
first destruction of Troy by Hercules, occasioned by Laomedon’s
refusing that hero the horses, which were the reward promised him
for the delivery of his daughter Hesione. P.
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 255
But what art thou ? who deedless look’st around,
While unrevenged thy Lycians bite the ground:
Small aid to Troy thy feeble force can be,
But wert thou greater, thou must yield to me.
Pierced by my spear to endless darkness go ! 800
I make this present to the shades below. |
The son of Hercules, the Rhodian guide,
Thus haughty spoke. The Lycian king replied.
Thy sire, O prince! o’erturn’d the Trojan state,
Whose perjured monarch well deserved his fate ;805
Those heavenly steeds the hero sought so far,
False he detained, the just reward of war.
Nor so content, the generous chief defied,
With base reproaches and unmanly pride.
But you, unworthy the high race you boast, 810
Shall raise my glory when thy own is lost:
Now meet thy fate, and by Sarpedon slain,
Add one more ghost to Pluto’s gloomy reign.
He said: both javelins at an instant flew ;
Both struck, both wounded, but Sarpedon’s slew:
Full in the boaster’s neck the weapon stood, 816
Transfix’d his throat, and drank the vital blood ;

Ver. 807.] This is a mistaken addition of hisown. The horses

in question were not the reward of war, but of the deliverance of
Hesione from the monster, according to the mythologists.
See also our poet’s own note above on verse 792.
Ver. 808.] The former clause is not after Homer, but Dacier:
“‘ Ce roi parjure ne se contenta pas méme de les lui refuser.”” W,
Ver. 809. With base reproaches and unmanly pride.] Methinks
these words κακῷ tvixame wba, include the chief sting of Sarpedon’s
answer to Tlepolemus, which no commentator that I remember has
remarked. He tells him Laomedon deserved his misfortune, not
only for his perfidy, but for injuring a brave man with unmanly and
 256 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK VY.

The soul disdainful seeks the caves of night,

And his seal’d eyes for ever lose the light.
Yet not in vain, ‘Tlepolemus, was thrown 820
Thy angry lance; which piercing to the bone
Sarpedon’s thigh, had robbed the chief of breath,
But Jove was present, and forbade the death.
Borne from the conflict by his Lycian throng,
The wounded hero dragg’d the lance along. 825
(His friends, each busied in his several part,
Through haste, or danger, had not drawn the dart.)
The Greeks, with slain Tlepolemus retir’d;
Whose fall Ulysses view’d, with fury fir’d;
Doubtful if Jove’s great son he should pursue, 830
Or pour his vengeance on the Lycian crew.
But heaven and fate the first design withstand,
Nor this great death must grace Ulysses’ hand.
Minerva drives him on the Lycian train;
Alastor, Cromius, Halius, strew’d the plain, 835
Alcander, Prytanis, Noémon fell:
And numbers more his sword had sent to hell,
But Hector saw; and furious at the sight,
Rush’d terrible amidst the ranks of fight.
With joy Sarpedon view'd the wish’d relief, 840
And faint, lamenting, thus implored the chief.
Oh suffer not the foe to bear away
My helpless corpse, an unassisted prey;
If I, unblest, must see my son no more,
My much-loved consort, and my native shore, 84

scandalous reproaches ; alluding to those which Tlepolemus had

just before cast upon him. P,

Ver. 844.] Very slight correction would enable the version

BOOK Vv. HOMER’s ILIAD. 257

Yet let me die in Ilion’s sacred wall;

Troy, in whose cause I fell, shall mourn my fall.
He said, nor Hector to the chief replies,
But shakes his plume, and fierce to combat flies;
Swift as a whirlwind, drives the scattering foes ;850
And dyes the ground with purple as he goes.
Beneath a beech, Jove’s consecrated shade,
His mournful friends divine Sarpedon laid:
Brave Pelagon, his favourite chief, was nigh,
Who wrench’d the javelin from his sinewy thigh.
The fainting soul stood ready wing’d for flight, 856
And o’er his eye-balls swam the shades of night;
But Boreas rising fresh, with gentle breath,
Recall’d his spirit from the gates of death.
The generous Greeks recede with tardy pace, 860
Though Mars and Hector thunder in their face;

to exhibit the heroism which breathes in the original of this

speech:
Since I, unblest, must see my son no more,
My much-loved consort, and my native shore,
I shun not death in [lion’s sacred wall—. W.
Ver. 849.] This mode of expressing the customary epithet of
Hector, which denotes one with a variegated or waving plume to
his helmet, seems to border on the burlesque. He might have
written properly:
But, rushing forward, to the combat flies :
for the comparison of the whirlwind is his own. Ww.
Ver. 860. The generous Greeks, &c.] This slow and orderly
Tetreat of the Greeks, with their front constantly turned to the
enemy, is a fine encomium both of their courage and discipline.
This manner of retreat was in use among the ancient Lacedemo-
nians, as were many other martial customs described by Homer.
This practice took its rise among that brave people, from the appre-
hensions of being slain with a wound received in their backs. Such
a misfortune was not only attended with the highest infamy, but
VOL, I. Ss
958 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.
None turn their backs to mean ignoble flight,
Slow they retreat, and even retreating fight.
Who first, who last, by Mars and Hector’s hand
Stretch’d in their blood, lay gasping on the sand 9
Teuthras the great, Orestes the renown’d 866
For managed steeds, and 'T'rechus, press’d the ground;
Next Oenomaus, and Oenops’ offspring died;
Oresbius last fell groaning at their side:
Oresbius, in his painted mitre gay, 870
In fat Beeotia held his wealthy sway,
Where lakes surround low Hyle’s watery plain;
A prince and people studious of their gain.
The carnage Juno from the skies survey’d,
And touch’d with grief bespoke the blue-eyed maid.
Oh sight accurst ! Shall faithless Troy prevail, 876
And shall our promise to our people fail ? |
How vain the word to Menelaiis given
By Jove’s great daughter and the queen of Heaven,
Beneath his arms that Priam’s towers should fall;
If warring Gods for ever guard the wall! 881
Mars, red with slaughter, aids our hated foes:
Haste, let us arm, and force with force oppose !
_She spoke: Minerva burns to meet the war:
And now heaven’s Empress calls her blazing car. 885
At her command rush forth the steeds divine;
Rich with immortal gold their trappings shine.

they had found a way to punish them who suffered thus, even after
their death, by denying them (as Eustathius informs us) the rites
of burial. τ᾿
Ver. 862.] The version would be brought nearer to the ori-
ginal thus :.
3
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 259

Bright Hebé waits; by Hebé, ever young,

The whirling wheels are to the chariot hung.
On the bright axle turns the bidden wheel 890
Of sounding brass; the polish’d axle steel.
Eight brazen spokes in radiant order flame;
The circles gold, of uncorrupted frame,
Suchas the heavens produce: and round the
gold
Two brazen rings of work divine were rol’d. 890
The bossy naves of solid silver shone;
Braces of gold suspend the moving throne :
The car, behind, an arching figure bore;
The bending concave form’d an arch before.
Silver the beam, the’ extended yoke was gold, 900
And golden reins the’ immortal coursers hold.
Herself, impatient, to the ready car
The coursers joins, and breathes revenge and war.
Pallas disrobes; her radiant veil untied,
With flowers adorn’d, with art diversified, 905
(The labour’d veil her heavenly fingers wove)
Flows on the pavement of the court of Jove.

Nor to the ships direct their rapid flight,

Nor yet advance ; for Mars was in the fight. W.
Ver. 897.] Our poet follows Dacier: “ ἢ] est suspendu avec
des courroyes d’ or et d’ argent.” But Ogilby is perfectly exact
and happy:
And gold and silver webs expand her seat. Ww
Ver. 903,] The original literally is:
>For strife all eager, and the din of war. Ww.
Ver. 904. Pallas disrobes.] This fiction of Pallas arraying her-
self with the arms of Jupiter, finely intimates (says Eustathius)
that she is nothing else but the wisdom of the Almighty, Fs
S Q
~
260 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK Γ᾿
Now heaven’s dread arms her mighty limbs invest,
Jove’s cuirass blazes on her ample breast;
Deck’d in sad triumph for the mournful field, 910
O’er her broad shoulders hangs his horrid shield,
Dire, black, tremendous! Round the margin roll’d,
A fringe of serpents hissing guards the gold :
Here all the terrors of grim war appear, 914
Here rages Force, here trembles Flight and Fear,
Here storm’d Contention, and here Fury frown’d,.
And the dire orb portentous Gorgon crown’d.
The massy golden helm she next assumes,
That dreadful nods with four o’ershading plumes;
So vast, the broad circumference contains 920
A hundred armies on a hundred plains.
The Goddess thus the’ imperial car ascends ;
Shook by her arm the mighty javelin bends,
Ver. 910.] Notwithstanding what I have elsewhere observed
and proved, that the e@gis seemed the breast-plate, it seems more
obvious, and indeed unavoidable, to understand by it the shield in
this place. In short, there is a degree of confusion, through
which I cannot see, in the ancient authors upon this point. I refer
the reader to my note on ver. 407 of the Eumenides of schylus. W.
Ver. 913. A fringe of serpents.| Our author does not parti-
cularly describe this image of the Aigis, as consisting of serpents;
but that it did so, may be learned from Hercdotus in his fourth
book: ‘“ The Greeks (says he) borrowed the vest and shield of
«© Minerva from the Lybians, only with this difference, that the
« Lybian shield was fringed with thongs of leather, the Grecian
«‘ with serpents.” And Virgil’s description of the same Aigis agrees
with this, /En. viii. ver. 435. τὸ
Ver. 917.] Odgilby is almost literal:
Amidst, that horrid monster, Gorgon’s head,
Jove’s direst omen, fierce and full of dread. W.
Ver. 922.] It required no skill to be exact:
The Goddess thus the flaming car ascends. W.
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 261

Ponderous and huge; that when her fury burns,

Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o’erturns.
Swift at the scourge the’ ethereal coursers fly, 926
While the smooth chariot cuts the liquid sky.
Heaven’s gates spontaneous open to the powers,
Heaven’s golden gates, kept by the winged Hours;
Commission’d in alternate watch they stand, 930
The sun’s bright portals and the skies command,
Involve in clouds the’ eternal gates of day,
Or the dark barrier roll with ease away.
The sounding hinges ring: on either side
The gloomy volumes, pierced with light, divide. 935
The chariot mounts, where deep in ambient skies,
Confused, Olympus’ hundred heads arise ;
Where far apart the Thunderer fills his throne,
O’er all the Gods superior and alone.
Ver. 924.] Exactly thus:
Strong, ponderous, huge ; with which Jove’s daughter tames
The host of heroes, that her wrath inflames. ὶ
Ver. 928. Heaven’s gates spontaneous open.| The expression
of the gates of heaven is in the Eastern manner, where they said
the gates of heaven, or of earth, for the entrance or extremities of
heaven or earth ; a phrase usual in the scriptures, as is observed
by Dacier. ᾿ χ
Ver. 929. Heaven’s golden gates kept by the winged Hours.)
By the Hours here are meant the seasons ; and so Hobbes translates
it, but spoils the sense by what he adds,
- Though to the seasons Jove the power gave
Alone to judge of early and of late ;
which is utterly unintelligible, and nothing like Homer’s thought.
Fi
Ver. 932.] Exquisite verses! but his original says simply:
Or to remove the thick cloud, or impose: W.
Ver. 935.] These ideas, with others in this description, are
superadded embellishments, but truly poetical, from the luxuriant
imagination of our translator. Ww.
962 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

There with her snowy hand the Queen restrains 940

The fiery steeds, and thus to Jove complains.
O Sire! can no resentment touch thy soul ?
Can Mars rebel, and does no thunder roll?
What lawless rage on yon’ forbidden plain!
What rash destruction! and what heroes slain! 945
Venus, and Pheebus with the dreadful bow,
Smile on the slaughter, and enjoy my woe.
Mad, furious power! whose unrelenting mind
No God can govern, and no justice bind.
Say, mighty father! shall we scourge his pride, 950
And drive from fight the’ impetuous homicide ὃ
To whom assenting, thus the Thunderer said:
Go! and the great Minerva be thy aid.
To tame the monster-god Minerva knows,
And oft’ afflicts his brutal breast with woes. 955
He said ; Saturnia, ardent to obey,
Lash’d her white steeds along the’ aérial way.
Swift down the steep of heaven “the chariot rolls,
Between the’ expanded earth and starry poles.
Far as a shepherd, from some point on high, 960
O’er the wide main extends his boundless eye,

Ver. 954. To tame the monster-god Minerva knows.| For it is

only wisdom that can master strength. It is worth while here to
observe the conduct of Homer. He makes Minerva, and not Juno,
to fight with Mars ; because a combat between Mars and Juno could
not be supported by any allegory to have authorised the fable :
whereas the allegory of a battle between Mars and Minerva is very
open and intelligible. Eustathius. P.
Ver. 955.] This is a most wretched line. I should like Ogilby
better, thus corrected:
Jove then: Set on him Pallas: Pallas knows
How best to thwart him, and his rage oppose. W.
 ROOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 263
Through such a space of air, with thundering sound,
At every leap the’ immortal coursers bound:
Troy now they reach’d, and touch’d those banks divine
Where silver Simois and Scamander join. 965
There Juno stopp’d, and (her fair steeds unloos’d)
Of air condensed a vapour circumfus’d:
For these, impregnate with celestial dew,
On Simois’ brink ambrosial herbage grew.
Thence to relieve the fainting Argive throng, 970
Smooth as the sailing doves, they glide along.
The best and bravest of the Grecian band
(A warlike circle) round Tydides stand:
Such was their look as lions bathed in blood,
Or foaming boars, the terror of the wood. 975
Heaven’s Empress mingles with the mortal crowd,
And shouts, in Stentor’s sounding voice, aloud:
Stentor the strong, endued with brazen lungs,
Whose throat surpass’d the force of fifty tongues.
Inglorious Argives ! to your race a shame, 980
And only men in figure and in name!

Ver. 961.] The epithet boundless interferes essentially with the

drift of the comparison. We might substitute, more conformably
to Homer:
O’er the black ocean’s surface casts his eye. ,a
Ver. 978. Stentor the strong, endued with brazen lungs.] There
was a necessity for cryers whose voices were stronger than ordinary,
in those ancient times, before the use of trumpets was known in
their armies. And that they were in esteem afterwards, may be
seen from Herodotus, where he takes notice that Darius had in his
train an egyptian, whose voice was louder and stronger than any
man’s of his age. There is a farther propriety in Homer’s attri-
buting this voice to Juno; because Juno is no other than the a/r,
and because the azr is the cause of sound. Eustathius, Spondanus. P.
264 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.

Once from the walls your timorous foes engaged,

While fierce in war divine Achilles raged;
Now issuing fearless they possess the plain,
Now win the shores, and scarce the seas remain. 985
Her speech new fury to their hearts convey’d ;
While near Tydides stood the’ Athenian maid;
The king beside his panting steeds she found,
O’erspent with toil, reposing on the ground :
To cool his glowing wound he sat apart, 990
(The wound inflicted by the Lycian dart)
Large drops of sweat from all his limbs descend,
Beneath his ponderous shield his sinews bend,
Whose ample belt that o’er his shoulder lay,
He eas’d; and wash’d the clotted gore away. 995
The Goddess leaning o’er the bending yoke,
Besides his coursers, thus her silence broke.
Degenerate prince! and not of Tydeus’ kind,
Whose little body lodged a mighty mind;
Foremost he pressed in glorious toils to share, 1000
And scarce refrain’d when I forbade the war.
Alone, unguarded, once he dared to go
And feast, encircled by the Theban foe;
There braved, and vanquish’d many a hardy knight; -
Such nerves I gave him, and such force in fight. 1005
Thou too no less hast been my constant care;
Thy hands I arm’d, and sent thee forth to war :

Ver. 984.] Thus, more faithfully to his author:

Now, fearless of his spear, they fill the plain,
Fight at your ships ; and scarce the seas restrain. Ww.
Ver, 1006.} Homer says literally,
I stand by thee too, and protection give:
 BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 265
But thee or fear deters, or sloth detains;
No drop of all thy father warms thy veins.
The chief thus answer’d mild. Immortal maid!
I own thy presence, and confess thy aid. 1011
ae
eS
Not fear, thou know’st, withholds me from the
plains, |
Nor sloth hath seized me, but thy word restrains :
From warring Gods thou bad’st me turn my spear,
And Venus only found resistance here. 1015
Hence, Goddess! heedful of thy high commands,
Loth I gave way, and warn’d our Argive bands:
For Mars, the homicide, these eyes beheld,
With slaughter red, and raging round the field.
Then thus Minerva. Brave Tydides, hear! 1020
Not Mars himself, nor aught immortal fear.
Full on the God impel thy foaming horse:
Pallas commands, and Pallas lends thee force.
Rash, furious, blind, from these to those he flies,
And every side of wavering combat tries; 1025
Large promise makes, and breaks the promise made;
Now gives the Grecians, now the Trojans aid.

but Dacier: “ Je ne fais pas moins pour vous que j’ai fait pour
“ Jui.”
_ Ver. 1008.] Literally:
Thee, or exhausting toil pervades thy limbs,
Or deadening fear has seiz’d:
but Chapman thus:
Affraid, or slothfull, or else both. Ww.
~ Ver. 1018.] This couplet represents the following verse of
Homer :
| But Mars, I know, triumphant rules the fight, W.
_ Ver. 1020.] More exactly thus:
Then Pallas: Hero! to my soul most dear. W.
 200 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK V.
She said, and to the steeds approaching near;
Drew from his seat the martial charioteer.
The vigorous Power the trembling car ascends, 1030
Fierce for revenge; and Diomed attends.
The groaning axle bent beneath the load;
So great a hero, and so great a God.
She snatch’d the reins, she lash’d with all her force,
And full on Mars impell’d the foaming horse: 1035
But first, to hide her heavenly visage, spread
Black Orcus’ helmet o’er her radiant head.
Just then gigantick Periphas lay slain,
The strongest warrior of the’ A‘tolian train;
The God, who slew him, leaves his prostrate prize
Stretch’d where he fell, and at Tydides flies. 1041
Ver. 1026.] ‘The simplicity of Homer 15 neglected here; which
is thus exhibited by Mr. Cowper:
He promised Juno lately and myself,
That he would fight for Greece, yet now forgets
His promise, and gives all his aid to Troy. Ww.
Ver. 1029.] There is, in my opinion, but little elegance,
and certainly not a commendable fidelity, in this translation. My
attempt will rather point out the possibility of improvement, than
exemplify it. . v.
She said; and, to the sons approaching near,
Her hand pull'd back the martial charioteer:
The furious Goddess, as the seat he quits,
Ascends the car, and by T'ydides sits. W.
Ver. 1033. So great a God. | The translation has ventured to
eall a Goddess so; in imitation of the Greek, which uses the
word Θεὸς promiscuously for either gender. Some of the Latin
Poets have not scrupled to do the same. P.
“Ver. 1037. Black Oreus’ helmet.] As every thing that goes in-
to the dark empire of Pluto, or Orcus, disappears and is seen no
more : the Greeks from thence borrowed this figurative expression,
to put on Pluto’s helmet, that is to say, to become invisible. Plato
uses this proverb in the tenth book of his weit ape and Aris-
tophanes in Acharneus, Eustathius. gs
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 267

Now rushing fierce, in equal arms appear,

The daring Greek ; the dreadful God of war !
Full at the chief, above his courser’s head,
T’rom Mars’s arm the’ enormous weapon fled; 1045
Pallas opposed her hand, and caused. to glance
Far from the car, the strong immortal lance.
Then threw the force of Tydeus’ warlike son;
The javelin hiss’d; the Goddess urged iton: 1049
Where the broad cincture girt his armour round,
It pierced the God; his groin received the wound,
From the rent skin the warrior tugs again
The smoking steel. Mars bellows with the pain:
Loud, as the roar encountering armies yield,
When shouting millions shake the thundering field.
Both armies start, and trembling gaze around ; 1056
And earth and heaven rebellow to the sound.
As vapours blown by Auster’s sultry breath,
Pregnant with plagues, and shedding seeds of death,
Beneath the rage of burning Sirius rise, 1000
Choke the parch’d earth, and blacken all the
skies;
In such a cloud the God from combat driven,
High o’er the dusty whirlwind scales the heaven.

Ver. 1052.] This is scarcely Homer’s meaning, though the

passage be liable to this construction. Hobbes was right:
But Pallas in his belly stuck the spear,
And presently the same pluck’d out again.
Andso Mr. Cowper judiciously understood the passage. W.
Ver. 1058.] The genius of our poet has indulged itself in am-
plifying two verses of his original, thus neatly and pregnantly ex-
hibited by Mr, Cowper: _
Such as the dimness is, when summer winds
Breathe hot, and sultry mist obscuresthe sky, . W.
268 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK VY.

Wild with his pain, he sought the bright abodes,

There sullen sat beneath the sire of Gods, 1065
Show’d the celestial blood, and with a groan
Thus pour’d his plaints before the’ immortal throne.
Can Jove, supine, flagitious facts survey,
And brook the furies of this daring day ?
For mortal men celestial powers engage, 1070
And Gods on Gods exert eternal rage.
From thee, O Father! all these ills we bear,
And thy fell daughter with the shield and spear:
Thou gav’st that fury to the realms of light,
Pernicious, wild, regardless of the right. 1075
All heaven beside revere thy sovereign sway,
Thy voice we hear, and thy behests obey:
*Tis hers to’ offend, and even offending share
Thy breast, thy counsels, thy distinguish’d care:
So boundless she, and thou so partial grown, 1080
Well may we deem the wonderous birth thy own.
Now frantic Diomed, at her command,
Ayainst the’ Immortals lifts his raging hand :
The heavenly Venus first his fury found,
‘Me next encountering, me he dared to wound; 1085
Vanquish’d I fled; even I, the God of fight,
From mortal madness scarce was saved by flight.
Else had’st thou seen me sink on yonder plain,
Heap’d round, and heaving under loads of slain!

Ver. 1062.] Homer is exactly,

Such to Tydides brazen Mars appear’d,
Ascending with the clouds to spacious Heaven. W.
Ver. 1081.] More exactly,
Well may we deem the noxious birth thy owm Ww.
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD: 269

Or pierced with Grecian darts, for ages lie, 1090

Condemn’d to pain, though fated not to die.
Him thus upbraiding, with a wrathful look
The lord of thunders view’d, and stern bespoke.
To me, perfidious ! this lamenting strain !
Of lawless force shall lawless Mars complain? 1095
Of all the Gods who tread the spangled skies,
Thou most unjust, most odious in our eyes !
Inhuman discord is thy dire delight,
The waste of slaughter, and the rage of fight.
No bound, no law, thy fiery temper quells, 1100
And all thy mother in thy soul rebels.
In vain our threats, in vain our power we use;
She gives the’ example, and her son pursues.
Yet long the’ inflicted pangs thou shalt not mourn,
Sprung since thou art from Jove, and heavenly born.
Else, singed with lightning, had’st thou hence been
thrown, 1106
Where chain’d on burning rocks the Titans groan.
Thus he who shakes Olympus with his nod;
Then gave to Pzeon’s care the bleeding God.

Ver. 1091. Condemn’d to pain, though fated not to die.] Those

are mistaken who imagine our author represents his Gods as mortal.
He only represents the inferior or corporeal Deities as capable of
pains and punishments, during the will of Jupiter, which is not
inconsistent with true theology. If Mars is said in Dione’s speech
to Venus to have been near perishing by Otus and Ephialtes, it
means no more than lasting misery, such as Jupiter threatens him
with when he speaks of precipitating him into Tartarus. Homer
takes care to tell us both of this God and of Pluto, when Peon
cured them, that they were not mortal. P.
Ver. 1106.] Homer only says,
Else hadst thou been ere this beneath the gods :
or, as: Mr. Cowper more elegantly renders :
Thou shouldst have found long since an humbler sphere. W,
 270 HOMER’s ILIAD. BOOK VY.

With gentle hand the balm he pour’d around, 1110

And heal’d the’ immortal flesh, and closed the wound.
As when the fig’s prest juice, infused in cream,
To curd coagulates the liquid stream,
— Ver. 1112. As when the fig’s prest juice, &c.| The sudden
operation of the remedy administered by Peon, is well expressed by
this similitude. It is necessary just to take notice, that they
anciently made use of the juice or sap of a fig for runnet, to cause
their milk to coagulate. It may not be amiss to observe, that
Homer is not very delicate in the choice of his allusions. He
often borrowed his similies from low life, and provided they illus-
trated his thoughts in a just and lively manner, it was all he had
regard to.
The allegory of this whole book lies so open, is carried on with
such closeness, and wound up with so much fulness and strength,
that it isa wonder how it could enter into the imagination of any
critic, that these actions of Diomed were only a daring and extra=
vagant fiction in Homer, as if he affected the marvellous at any rate.
The great moral of it is, that a brave man should not contend
against Heaven, but resist only Venus and Mars, incontinence and
ungoverned fury. Diomed is proposed as an example of'a great and
enterprising nature, which would perpetually be venturing too far,
and committing extravagances or impieties, did it not suffer itself
to be checked and guided by Minerva or prudence: for it is this
wisdom (as we are told in the very first lines of the book) that raises
ox

a hero above all others. Nothing is more observable than the par-
ticular care Homer has taken to show he designed this moral. He
never omits any occasion throughout the book, to put it in express
terms into the mouths of the Gods, or persons of the greatest
weight. Minerva, at the beginning of the battle, is made to give
this precept to Diomed; Fight not against the Gods, but give way
to them, and resist only Venus. 'The same Goddess opens his eyes,
and enlightens him so far as to perceive when it is Heaven that acts
immediately against him, or when it is man only that opposes him.
The hero himself, as soon as he has performed her dictates in driving
away Venus, cries out, not as to the Goddess, but as to the passion,
Thou hast no bustness with warriors, is it not enough that thou de-
ceivest weak women? Even the mother of Venus, while she com-
forts her daughter, bears testimony to the moral: That man (says
she) is not long-lived who contends with the Gods. And when
Diomed, transported by his nature, proceeds but a step too far,
Apollo discovers himself in the most solemn manner, and declares
BOOK V. HOMER’s ILIAD. 271

Sudden the fluids fix, the parts combin’d ;

Such, and so soon, the’ ethereal texture join’d. 1115
Cleansed from the dust and gore, fair Hebé drest
His mighty limbs in an immortal vest.
Glorious he sat, in majesty restor’d,
Fast by the throne of Heaven’s superior lord.
Juno and Pallas mount the blest abodes, 1120
Their task perform’d, and mix among the Gods.

this truth in his own voice, as it were by direct revelation: Mor-

tal, forbear ! consider, and know the vast difference there is between
the Gods and thee. They are immortal and divine, but man a
miserable reptile of the dust. P.

END OF VOL. I.

C. Baldwin, Printer, | Ὶ
Mew Bridge-street, London,
——
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