He, inconsolable, untimely left,

Of all his heart most loved by death bereft,
Knew not repose, but, wearied out with woe,
Tost, ever-rolling, restless, to and fro;

And more and more, Patroclus' loss to mourn,
Recalled their various toils together borne,

What glorious battles fought, what victories gained,
And on the boundless deep what dangers both sustained.
Still recollecting these, he watched, he wept,
While his worn limbs no peaceful posture kept;
Now on his side, and now supine, now prone,
Now starting up, the wanderer strayed alone
Along the beach of the resounding shore,
Unheard the ocean's melancholy roar;
But not unmindful when the dawn of day
Stretched o'er the sea and shore its rising ray,
He back returned, and yoked his steeds of war,
And bound the Hectorean limbs behind his car;
Thrice dragged the corse Patroclus' tomb around,
Then sought his tent and cast him on the ground."

Now, as old Michael Drayton says to George Sandys, "Let's see what lines Virginia will produce."

Mr. Munford's version is:

"The games were finish'd; to their several ships
Dispersing went the multitude; and they
The banquet there and sweet repose enjoy'd;
But, comfortless, remembering still his friend,
Achilles wept. To sleep's all-ruling sway
He yielded not, but turn'd from side to side,
Regretting brave Patroclus' manly form
And martial spirit, now for ever flown.
Revolving pensively the toils and woes
He bore with him, in wars of heroes bold,
And voyages upon the stormy main,
A flood of tears he shed; this way and that,
Tossing incessantly, supine or prone,
Or on his sides alternately outstretch'd.

Then, starting up, with tortur'd heart he roam'd,
Disconsolate, the lonely sea-beat coast;
Nor fail'd to watch Aurora's earliest ray
Obscurely glimmering on the restless waves
And misty shores of ocean. Coupling then

His fiery coursers to the car, he dragg'd
The corse of Hector in its rear again;
And three times trailing it around the tomb
Of dead Patroclus, to his tent return'd."

Vol. 11., pp. 473–474.

We close this comparative survey by giving the corresponding hexameters from Blackwood.

"Now the assembly dissolv'd; and the multitude rose and disperst

them,

Each making speed to the ships, for the needful refreshment of

nature,

Food and the sweetness of sleep; but alone in his tent was Achilles, Weeping the friend that he lov'd; nor could sleep, the subduer

of all things,

Master his grief; but he turn'd him continually hither and thither, Thinking of all that was gracious and brave in departed Patroclus, And of the manifold days they two had been toilfully comrades, Both in the battles of men and the perilous tempests of ocean. Now on his side, and anon on his back, or with countenance downward,

Prone in his anguish he sank: then suddenly starting, he wander'd, Desolate, forth by the shore; till he noted the burst of the morning As on the waters it gleam'd, and the surf-beaten length of the sand-beach.

Instantly then did he harness his swift-footed horses, and corded Hector in the rear of the car, to be dragg'd at the wheels in dis

honor

Thrice at the speed he encircled the tomb of the son of Mencetius, Ere he repos'd him again in his tent, and abandon'd the body, Flung on its face in the dust; but not unobserv'd of Apollo.'

Blackwood's Magazine, Vol. LIX., p. 260.

Our limits will not permit us to quote at length from Mr. Munford's translation. We can give only a few disjointed extracts, to show the ability with which he has accomplished his undertaking.

"Meanwhile the people throng'd, like humming tribes
Of swarming bees, when from a hollow rock
They pour incessantly, fresh numbers still
Succeeding without end, and restless fly

In clust'ring throngs among the flowers of spring;
Some here, some there, a countless multitude.
So then the numerous tribes from tents and ships

Pour'd thronging forth, along the winding shore
Of vast extent. Among them, Fame herself
Conspicuous flam'd, (Jove's messenger,) to march
Exciting all they crowding hurried on.

Tumultuous was the concourse; when they sat,
The ground beneath the mighty numbers groan'd,
And loud their clamor rose. Nine heralds there
Vociferous warn'd them, with commanding shouts,
To cease that uproar, and attentive hear

Their Jove-instructed kings. At length controll'd,
They kept their seats in peace, and all was hush'd.”

"The mighty numbers mov'd
Like billows huge upon th' Icarian main,
When, rushing from the stormy clouds on high,
Assembled by their father Jove, the winds,
Eurus and Notus, heave the troubled deep.
As when the western blast, with rapid sway
Descending, sweeps a wide-spread field of corn,
Bending the yielding harvest, so the crowd
Immense commotion seiz'd! With joyful cries
All hurried to the ships: beneath their feet
Thick dust arose, and form'd a standing cloud.
They call'd each other speedily to seize

The ships, and launch them to the boundless main.
The work was soon commenced, and, from their keels
Imbedded, scoop'd the sand: shrill clamors reach'd
The lofty skies, of men returning home!"

"To the place of concourse they

From ships and tents returning rush'd with noise,
As when loud-sounding Ocean's stormy waves
Burst, roaring, on the wide reëchoing shore."

"Among them flew
Blue-eyed Minerva! On her powerful arm
The blazing Ægis, ever new and bright,
Precious, eternal! Round its ample verge
A hundred fringes shone, of heavenly gold,
Inimitably wrought: with mortals, each

Were worth a hecatomb. She, arm'd with this,
Flew swiftly through Achaia's host, to arms
Exciting all, and every Greek inspir'd

With valor, war unceasing to maintain.
More sweet to them the bloody contest seem'd
Than e'en rejoicing in their hollow ships

To their dear native country to return!

As raging fire consumes a wide-spread wood,
On some high mountain's summit, whence the blaze
Is seen afar; so, from their burnish'd arms
With radiant glories gleam'd effulgent light,
Flaming through æther to the vault of heaven!
And as unnumber'd flocks of swift-wing'd birds,
Geese, cranes, or stately swans with arching necks,
In Asius' meadow 'round Cayster's streams,
Fly here and there, exulting on the wing,
And (while with clamor they alight) the fields.
Their cries reëcho; so the numerous tribes

Of Greeks, from ships and tents outpouring, throng'd
Scamander's plain. The ground, with dreadful din,
Sounded beneath the feet of bounding steeds
And trampling warriors. Numberless they stood,
Covering that verdant meadow, as the leaves
And flowers of spring, or as the countless swarms
Of restless flies that in a shepherd's fold

At summer eve, when milk bedews the pails,
Play infinite! So numerous were the Greeks,
Ardent for battle, breathing dire revenge

And death against the Trojans. Them their chiefs
With ease distinguish'd, and in order plac'd,
As skilful herdsmen readily select

From hundreds mingled in their pastures wide,
Each his own flock of goats; the chieftains so
Their troops collected, and for fight arrang'd.
Among them royal Agamemnon shone ;
In brow and awful look, resembling Jove
The thunderer; in armor, Mars himself;
In port majestic, Neptune! As a bull
Appears preeminent o'er all his herd,
So great Atrides, on that signal day,
Among so many heroes was by Jove
With glory crown'd, excelling all the rest."
Vol. 1., pp. 38-54.

A few remarks more upon Mr. Munford's work, with one or two illustrative passages, must close this hasty and rambling notice. We have spoken, in general terms, of its merits; and though these far outweigh and outnumber its defects, it is but just that a word should be said of the latter. Mr. Munford's elaborate versification is admirable in the statelier parts of the Iliad; in the animated battle-pieces; in the

picturesque delineation of the grander features of natural scenery, or the commotion of the elements. But his style is not sufficiently flexible to represent with equal felicity the simple narrative portions, and to render with Homeric naturalness the homelier details of daily life, so significant of the peculiar genius of the ancient epic. Homer goes to work in the most business-like fashion, and always calls things by their plainest names; and this is just the most perplexing thing to do, in an artificial age, and with a cultured style. The problem is difficult, and perhaps cannot be perfectly solved. If Mr. Munford has failed, he has failed where no one has succeeded.

It must also be confessed that Mr. Munford's versification becomes at times monotonous. His rhythms have not sufficient variety. True, no modern rhythms can give back the ever-changing charm of the Homeric hexameter; but the English ten-syllable blank verse is capable of representing to a considerable extent the varied movement of the Greek, by varying the cæsural pause.

A few trivial faults more, and our critical conscience will be at rest. We have here and there noticed a touch of modern sentiment incongruously embroidered upon the unromantic plainness of Homer; as,

"He fell with failing limbs

And joints relaxed, and sighed his soul away";

Homer says simply " and life his body left."
And in another place,

"Enjoyed with mutual bliss in Cranaë's isle

Thy heaven of charms, as now I love thee dear."

In managing the proper names, the laws of quantity are often violated; though, in many cases, the Greek accentuation may be pleaded in justification. Pylæmenes, for example, which would commonly be accented on the antepenultimate syllable, the penult being short, is read Pylæménes by Mr. Munford; and the same syllable is accented in the Greek. But this excuse will not hold in other cases, as Neritus, pronounced Nerítus, by Mr. Munford. All these slight defects might easily have been removed, had the work enjoyed the advantage of a final revision by the author.