able to Pope, which doubtless his translation enabled him to purchase.

It cannot be unwelcome to literary curiosity that I deduce thus minutely the history of the English "Iliad." It is certainly the noblest version of poetry which the world has ever seen; and its publication must therefore be considered as one of the great events in the annals of learning.

To those who have skill to estimate the excellence and difficulty of this great work, it must be very desirable to know how it was performed, and by what gradations it advanced to correctness. Of such an intellectual process the knowledge has very rarely been attainable; but happily there remains the original copy of the "Iliad," which being obtained by Bolingbroke as a curiosity, descended from him to Mallet, and is now, by the solicitation of the late Dr. Maty, reposited in the Museum.

Between this manuscript, which is written upon accidental fragments of paper, and the printed edition, there must have been an intermediate copy, that was perhaps destroyed as it returned from the press.

From the first copy I have procured a few transcripts, and shall exhibit first the printed lines; then, in a smaller print, those of the manuscripts, with all their variations. Those words in the small print which are given in Italicks are cancelled in the copy, and the words placed under them adopted in their stead.

The beginning of the first book stands thus:

The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing, That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reiga The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain.

The stern Pelides' rage, O Goddess, sing,

VOL. I.

wrath

Of all the woes of Greece the fatal spring,

Grecian

That strewed with warriors dead the Phrygian plain, heroes

And peopled the dark bell with heroes slain;

fill'd the shady hell with chiefs untimely

Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore,
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove :

Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of
Jove.

Whose limbs, unburied on the hostile shore,
Devouring dogs and greedy vultures tore,

Since firs: Atrides and Achilles strove:

Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.

Declare, O Muse, in what ill-fated hour

Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended Power?
Latona's son a dire contagion spread,

And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead;
The King of men his reverend priest defy'd,
And for the King's offence the people dy'd.

Declare, O Goddess, what offended Power
Euflam'd their rage, in that ill-omen'd hour;
anger fatal, hapless

Phoebus himself the dire debate procur'd,

fierce

T'avenge the wrongs his injur'd priest endur’d; .
For this the God a dire infection spread,

And heap'd the camp with millions of the dead;
The King of men the sacred sire defy'd,

And for the King's offence the people dy'd.

For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain
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.

For Chryses sought by presents to regain
costly gifts to gain

His captive daughter from the victor's chain!
Suppliant the venerable father stands,
Apollo's awful ensigns grac'd his hands.
By these he begs, and, lowly bending down
The golden sceptre and the laurel crown,
Presents the sceptre

For thefe as ensigns of b's God he bare,
The God that sends his golden shafts afar;
Then, low on earth, the venerable man,
Suppliant, before the brother kings began.

He sued to all, but chief implor'd 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,
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.

To all he sued, but chief implor'd for grace
The brother kings of Atreus' royal race:
Ye sons of Atreus, may your vows be crown'd,
Kings and warriors

So

Your labours, by the Gods be all your labours crown'd,
may the Gods your arms with conquest bless,
And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground;
Till

laid

And crown your labour with deserv'd success ;
May Jove restore you, when your toils are o'er,
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.

But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain,
And give Chryseis to these arms again;
If mercy fail, yet let my present move,
And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.

But, oh! relieve a hapless parent's pain,
And give my daughter to these arms again;
Receive my gifts; if mercy fails, yet let my present move,

And fear the God that deals bis darts around.

avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.

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 reply'd.
He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare,
The father said, the gen'rous Greeks relent,
T'accept the ransom, and release the fair;
Revere the priest, and speak their joint assent;
Not so the tyrant, he, with kingly pride,
Atrides

Repuls'd the sacred sire, and thus reply'd.

[Not so the tyrant.

DRYDEN.]

Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that there was yet a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with interlineations.

The beginning of the second book varies very little from the printed page, and is therefore set down without a parallel; the few differences do not require to be elaborately displayed.

Now pleasing sleep had seal'd each mortal eye; Stretch'd in their tents the Grecian leaders lie; Th' Immortals slumber'd on their thrones above, All but the ever-watchful eye of Jove.

To honour Thetis' son he bends his care,
And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war.
Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,
And thus commands the vision of the night :

directs

Fly hence, delusive dream, and, light as air,
To Agamemnon's royal tent repair;

Bid him in arms draw forth th' embattled train,
March all his legions to the dusty plain.
Now tell the King 'tis giv'n him to destroy

Declare ev'n now

The lofty walls of wide-extended Troy;

tow'rs

For now no more the Gods with fate contend ;
At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hovers o'er yon devoted wall,
hangs

And nodding Ilium waits th' impending fall.
Invocation to the catalogue of Ships:

Say, Virgins, seated round the throne divine,
All-knowing Goddesses! immortal Nine! [height,
Since earth's wide regions, heaven's unmeasur'd
And hell's abyss, hide nothing from your sight,
(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,
But guess by rumour, and but boast we know)
Oh! say what heroes, fir'd by thirst of fame,

Or

urg'd by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came! To count them all demands a thousand tongues, A throat of brass and adamantine lungs.

Now, virgin Goddesses, immortal Nine!

That round Olympus' heavenly summit shine,
Who see through heaven and earth, and hell profound,
And all things know, and all things can resound!
Relate what armies sought the Trojan land,
What nations follow'd, and what chiefs command;
(For doubtful fame diftracts mankind below,
And nothing can we tell and nothing know)
Without your aid, to count th' unnumber'd train,
A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain.

Book v. v. 1.

But 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.
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;

Th' unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires th' autumnal skies,