an immeasurable length of verse, notwithstanding which, there is scarce any paraphrase more loose and and rambling than his. He has frequently interpolations of four or six lines, and I remember one in the thirteenth book of the Odysses, ver. 312, where he has spun twenty verses out of two. He is often mistaken 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 promise, in his rhyming 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 for the rest, whenever any can be as fully and sig- and Ogilby. Chapman has taken the advantage of nificantly expressed in a single word as in a compound 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 Quads to a mountain, would appear little or ridiculous translated literally "leaf-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 according to the occasions on which they are introduced. For example, the epithet of Apollo, Coxos, or “far-shooting," is capable of two explications; one literal in respect to 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 represented 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 perpetual repetition of the same epithets which we find in Homer: and which, though it might be accommodated (as has been already negligence his version was performed. But that shown) 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 once show his fancy and his judgment. 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 something like what one might imagine Homer himself would have writ before he arrived at years of discretion. As for Homer's repetitions, we may divide them Hobbes has given us a correct explanation of the into three sorts; of whole narrations and speeches, sense in general; but for particulars and circumstances de of single sentences, and of one verse or hemistich. I he continually lops them, and often omits the most hope it is not impossible to have such a regard to beautiful. As for its being esteemed a close translathese, as neither to lose so known a mark of the tion, I doubt not many have been led into that error author on the one hand, nor to offend the reader too by the shortness of it, which proceeds not from his much on the other. The repetition is not ungrace- following the original line by line, but from the confal in those speeches where the dignity of the speaker tractions above mentioned. He sometimes omits renders it a sort of insolence to alter his words; as whole similes and sentences, and is now and then in the messages from gods to men, or from higher guilty of mistakes, into which no writer of his learnpowers to inferiors in concerns of state, or where the ing could have fallen, but through carelessness. His ceremonial of religion seems to require it, in the poetry, as well as Ogilby's, is too mean for criticism. solemn forms of prayers, oaths, or the like. In other It is a great loss to the poetical world that Mr. cases, I believe, the best rule is, to be guided by the Dryden did not live to translate the Iliad. He has nearness, or distance, at which the repetitions are left us only the first book, and a small part of the placed in the original: when they follow too close, sixth: in which if he has, in some places, not truly one may vary the expression; but it is a question interpreted the sense, or preserved the antiquities, it whether a professed translator be authorised to omit ought to be excused on account of the haste he was any: if they be tedious, the author is to answer for it. obliged to write in. He seems to have had too much It only remains to speak of the versification. Ho- regard to Chapman, whose words he sometimes mer (as has been said) is perpetually applying the copies, and has unhappily followed him in passages sound to the sense, and varying it on every new sub- where he wanders from the original. However, had ject. This is indeed one of the most exquisite beau- he translated the whole work, I would no more have ties of poetry, and attainable by very few: I know attempted Homer after him than Virgil, his version of only of Homer eminent for it in the Greek, and Vir- whom (notwithstanding some human errors) is the gil in Latin. I am sensible it is what may sometimes most noble and spirited translation I know in any happen by chance, when a writer is warm, and fully language. But the fate of great geniuses is like that possessed of his image: however, it may be reason- of great ministers; though they are confessedly the ably believed they designed this, in whose verse it so first in the commonwealth of letters, they must be manifestly appears in a superior degree to all others. envied and calumniated, only for being at the head Few readers have the ear to be judges of it; but those of it. who have, will see I have endeavoured at this beauty. That which in my opinion ought to be the endeaUpon the whole, I must confess myself utterly in-vour of any one who translates Homer, is above all capable of doing justice to Homer. I attempt him in things to keep aliye that spirit and fire which makes no other hope but that which one may entertain his chief character; in particular places where the without much vanity, of giving a more tolerable copy sense can bear any doubt, to follow the strongest and of him than any entire translation in verse has yet most poetical, as most agreeing with that character; done. We have only those of Chapman, Hobbes, to copy him in all the variations of his style, and the Read Homer once, and you can read no more; different modulations of his numbers; to preserve, in scribers, and the most distinguished patrons and the more active or descriptive parts, a warmth and ornaments of learning as my chief encouragers? elevation; in the more sedate or narrative, a plain- Amongst these it is a particular pleasure to me to ness and solemnity; in the speeches, a fulness and find, that my highest obligations are to such who perspicuity; in the sentences, a shortness and gravity: have done most honour to the name of poet: that his not to neglect even the little figures and turns on the grace the duke of Buckingham was not displeased I words, nor sometimes the very cast of the periods; should undertake the author to whom he has given neither to omit nor confound any rites or customs (in his excellent Essay) so complete a praise: of antiquity: perhaps too he ought to include the whole in a shorter compass, than has been hitherto done by any translator, who has tolerably preserved either the sense or poetry. What I would farther That the earl of Halifax was one of the first to fa recommend to him, is to study his author rather from his own text, than from any commentaries, how vour me, of whom it is hard to say whether the adlearned soever, or whatever figure they may make in vancement of the polite arts is more owing to his genethe estimation of the world; to consider him atten- rosity or his example: that such a genius as my lord tively in comparison with Virgil above all the an- Bolingbroke, not more distinguished in the great cients, and with Milton above all the moderns. Next scenes of business than in all the useful and entertainthese, the archbishop of Cambray's Telemachus may ing parts of learning, has not refused to be the critic of give him the truest idea of the spirit and turn of our these sheets, and the patron of their writer: and that author, and Bossu's admirable treatise of the Epic so excellent an imitator of Homer as the noble author Poem the justest notion of his design and conduct. of the tragedy of Heroic Love, has continued his But after all, with whatever judgment and study a partiality to me, from my writing Pastorals, to my man may proceed, or with whatever happiness he attempting the Iliad. I cannot deny myself the pride may perform such a work, he must hope to please of confessing, that I have had the advantage not only but a few; those only who have at once a taste of of their advice for the conduct in general, but their poetry, and competent learning. For to satisfy such as correction of several particulars of this translation. I could say a great deal of the pleasure of being want either, is not in the nature of this undertaking; since a mere modern wit can like nothing that is not distinguished by the earl of Carnarvon; but it is almost absurd to particularize any one generous action modern, and a pedant nothing that is not Greek. What I have done is submitted to the public, from in a person whose whole life is a continued series of whose opinions I am prepared to learn; though I them. Mr. Stanhope, the present secretary of state, fear no judges so little as our best poets, who are will pardon my desire of having it known that he more sensible of the weight of this task. As for the was pleased to promote this affair. The particular worst, whatever they shall please to say, they may zeal of Mr. Harcourt (the son of the late lord changive me some concern as they are unhappy men, cellor) gave me a proof how much I am honoured but none as they are malignant writers. I was in a share of his friendship. I must attribute to the guided in this translation by judgments very different same motive that of several others of my friends, to from theirs, and persons for whom they can have no whom all acknowledgments are rendered unneces kindness, if an old observation be true, that the sary by the privileges of a familiar correspondence: strongest antipathy in the world is that of fools to and I am satisfied I can no way better oblige men of men of wit. Mr. Addison was the first whose advice their turn, than by my silence. In short, I have found more patrons than ever Hodetermined me to undertake this task, who was pleased to write to me on that occasion in such mer wanted. He would have thought himself happy terms as I cannot repeat without vanity. I was to have met the same favour at Athens that has been obliged to Sir Richard Steel for a very early recom- shown me by its learned rival, the university of Or mendation of my undertaking to the public. Dr. ford. If my author had the wits of after-ages for his Swift promoted my interest with that warmth with defenders, his translator has had the beauties of the which he always serves his friend. The humanity present for his advocates; a pleasure too great to be and frankness of Sir Samuel Garth are what I never changed for any fame in reversion. And I can hardly knew wanting on any occasion. I must also ac- envy him those pompous honours he received after knowledge, with infinite pleasure, the many friendly death, when I reflect on the enjoyment of so many offices, as well as sincere criticisms of Mr. Congreve, agreeable obligations, and easy friendships, which who had led me the way in translating some parts make the satisfaction of life. This distinction is the of Homer; as I wish for the sake of the world he more to be acknowledged, as it is shown to one had prevented me in the rest. I must add the names whose pen has never gratified the prejudices of par of Mr. Rowe and Dr. Parnell, though I shall take a ticular parties, or the vanities of particular men. farther opportunity of doing justice to the last, whose Whatever the success may prove, I shall never repent good nature (to give it a great panegyric) is no less of an undertaking in which I have experienced the extensive than his learning. The favour of these candour and friendship of so many persons of merit ; gentlemen is not entirely undeserved by one who and in which I hope to pass some of those years of bears them so true an affection. But what can I say youth that are generally lost in a circle of follies, of the honour so many of the great have done me, after a manner neither wholly unuseful to others, while the first names of the age appear as my sub-nor disagreeable to myself. 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 captives, Chryseis and Briseïs, allotted the first to Agamemnon, and 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 being refused, and insolently dismissed by Agamemnon, entreats 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 into a furious contest with Achilles, which Nestor pacifies; however, as he had the absolute command of the ariny, 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 supplicates 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 recon ciled 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 with Jupiter's stay with the Ethiopians, at whose return Thetis prefers her petition. The scene lies in the Grecian camp, then changes to Chrysa, and lastly to Olympus. BOOK I. 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, Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore; Since great Achilles and Atrides strove. |By these he begs; and lowly bending down, Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown. He sued to all, but chief implored for grace The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race. 20 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; But oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain, And give Chryseïs to these arms again; If mercy fail, yet let my presents move, And dread avenging Phœbus, 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, Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied: 30 41 Hence, on thy life, and fly these hostile plains, 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, 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, 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: 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, 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; Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of God of the silver bow! thy shafts employ, Jove! Declare, O Muse! in what ill-fated hour Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power? And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead; For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain 11 Avenge thy servant, and the Greeks destroy. 50 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 moved, his silver shafts resound. Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread, And gloomy darkness roll'd around 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 arro's fix'd on man. 217 70 70 For nine long nights through all the dusky air, 80 Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore, He said, and sat: when Chalcas thus replied; 90 |Because my prize, my beauteous maid I hold, 150 160 Insatiate king! (Achilles thus replies) Then thus the king: Shall I my prize resign To whom Pelides: From thy inmost soul To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey, 110 Ulysses spoils, or e'en thy own be mine. The man who suffers loudly may complain; And whose bless'd oracles thy lips declare; 130 At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied: 170 180 190 200 Forbear! (the progeny of Jove replies) Hither we sail'd, a voluntary throng, 220 By awful Juno this command is given; 280 Those who revere the gods, the gods will bless. 290 Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook, If thou hast strength, 'twas heaven that strength be- When wert thou known in ambush'd fights to dare, stow'd; For know, vain man! thy valour is from God. 240 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, 250 Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppress'd, 300 Or nobly face the horrid front of war? This sceptre, form'd by temper'd steel to prove From whom the power of laws and justice springs By this I swear, when bleeding Greece again While half unsheath'd appear'd the glittering blade, The raging king return'd his frowns again. 261 Minerva swift descended from above, A heavenly witness of the wrongs I bear 270 |