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The Epithet in the original is σκιοεντα, or gloomy: It is here used with a peculiar propriety, to keep in the Reader's mind the exact time when Ulysses made his narration to the Phæacians, namely, in the evening of the thirty third day: we may likewise gather from this distinction of times, the exact stay of Ulysses among the Phæacians; he was thrown upon their shores on the thirty first day in the evening, and lands about day break on the thirty fifth day in his own country; so that he staid three days and three nights only with Alcinous, one night being spent in his voyage to Ithaca from Phæacia.

Homer calls the wine γερουσιον, or wine drank at the entertainment of Elders, γεροντων, or men of distinction, says Eustathius; by the bard, he means Demodocus.

The same Critic further remarks, that Homer judiciously shortens every circumstance before he comes to the dismission of Ulysses: Thus he omits the description of the sacrifice, and the subject of the song of Demodocus; these are circumstances that at best would be but useless ornaments, and ill agree with the impatience of Ulysses to begin his voyage toward his country. These therefore the Poet briefly dispatches.

The simile which Homer chuses is drawn from low life, but very happily sets off the impatience of Ulysses: It is familiar, but expressive. Horace was not of the judgment of those who thought it mean, for he uses it in his Epistles.

It was very necessary to dwell upon this impatience of Ulysses to return; it would have been absurd to have represented him cool, or even moderately warm upon this occasion; he had refused immortality thro' the love of his country; it is now in his power to return to it; he ought therefore consistently with his former character to be drawn with the utmost earnestness of soul, and every moment must appear tedious that keeps him from it; it shews therefore the judgment of Homer to describe him in this manner, and not to pass it over cursorily, but force it upon the notice of the Reader, by insisting upon it somewhat largely, and illustrating it by a proper similitude, to fix it more strongly upon our memory.

This is a pious and instructive sentence, and teaches, that tho' riches were heap'd upon us with the greatest abundance and superfluity; yet unless Heaven adds its benediction, they will prove but at best a burthen and calamity.

It may be ask'd why Ulysses addresses his words to the Queen rather than the King; The reason is, because she was his patroness, and had first received him with hospitality, as appears from the 7th book of the Odyssey.

Ulysses makes a libation to the Gods, and presents the bowl to the Queen: This was the pious practice of Antiquity upon all solemn occasions: Ulysses here does it, because he is to undertake a voyage, and it implies a prayer for the prosperity of it. The reason why he presents the bowl to the Queen is, that she may first drink out of it, for so προπινειν properly and originally signifies, το προ εαυτου διδονας τινι πινειν, says Eustathius. Propino is used differently by the Romans.

The Poet introduces two similitudes to represent the sailing of the Phæacian vessel: The former describes the motion of it, as it bounds and rises over the waves, like horses tossing their heads in a race; and also the steddiness of it, in that it sails with as much firmness over the billows, as horses tread upon the ground. The latter comparison is solely to shew the swiftness of the vessel.

The word in the original is τετραοροι; an instance, that four horses were sometimes join'd to the chariot. Virgil has borrow'd this comparison, Æn. 5.

It must be allow'd that nothing was ever more happily executed than this description, and the copy far exceeds the original. Macrobius, Saturnal. lib. 5. gives this as his opinion, and his reasons for it. The Greek Poet (says that Author) paints only the swiftness of the horses when scourg'd by the driver; Virgil adds, the rushing of the chariot, the fields as it were devour'd by the rapidity of the horses; we see the throwing up of the reins, in undantia lora; and the attitude of the driver, leaning forward in the act of lashing of the horses, in the words, Pronique in verbera pendent. 'Tis true, nothing could be added more elegantly than the υψοσ' αειρομενοι; in Homer, it paints at once the swiftness of the race, and the rising posture of the horses in the act of running; but Virgil is more copious, and has omitted no circumstance, and set the whole race fully before our eyes; we may add, that the versification is as beautiful as the description compleat; every ear must be sensible of it.

I will only further observe the judgment of Homer, in speaking of every person in his particular character. When a vain-glorious Phæacian describ'd the sailing of his own vessels, they were swift as thought, and endued with reason; when Homer speaks in his own person to his readers, they are said only to be as swift as hawks or horses: Homer speaks like a Poet, with some degree of amplification, but not with so much hyperbole as Alcinous. No people speak so fondly as sailors of their own ships to this day, and particularly are still apt to talk of them as of living creatures.

From this passage we may gather, that Ithaca is distant from Corcyra or Phæacia no further than a vessel sails in the compass of one night; and this agrees with the real distance between those Islands; an instance that Homer was well acquainted with Geography: This is the morning of the thirty fifth day.

Phorcys was the son of Pontus and Terra, according to Hesiod's genealogy of the Gods; this Haven is said to be sacred to that Deity, because he had a temple near it, from whence it receiv'd its appellation.

The whole voyage of Ulysses to his country, and indeed the whole Odyssey, has been turn'd into allegory; which I will lay before the Reader as an instance of a trifling industry and strong imagination. Ulysses is in search of true felicity, the Ithaca and Penelope of Homer: He runs thro' many difficulties and dangers; this shews that happiness is not to be attain'd without labour and afflictions. He has several companions, who perish by their vices, and he alone escapes by the assistance of the Phæacians, and is transported in his sleep to his country; that is, the Phæacians, whose name implies blackness, φαιοι, are the mourners at his death, and attend him to his grave: The ship is his grave, which is afterwards turn'd into a rock; which represents his monumental marble; his sleep means death, thro' which alone man arrives at eternal felicity.

Porphyry has wrote a volume to explain this cave of the Nymphs, with more piety perhaps than judgment; and another person has perverted it into the utmost obscenity, and both allegorically. Porphyry (observes Eustathius) is of opinion, that the cave means the world; it is called gloomy, but agreeable, because it was made out of darkness, and afterwards set in this agreeable order by the hand of the Deity. It is consecrated to the Nymphs; that is, it is destin'd to the habitation of spiritual substances united to the body: The bowls and urns of living stone, are the body which are form'd out of the earth; the bees that make their honey in the cave are the souls of men, which perform all their operations in the body, and animate it; the beams on which the Nymphs roul their webs, are the bones over which the admirable embroidery of nerves, veins and arteries are spread; the fountains which water the cave are the seas, rivers and lakes that water the world; and the two gates, are the two poles; thro' the northern the souls descend from Heaven to animate the body, thro' the southern they ascend to Heaven, after they are separated from the body by death. But I confess I should rather chuse to understand the description poetically, believing that Homer never dream'd of these matters, tho' the age in which he flourish'd was addicted to Allegory. How often do Painters draw from the imagination only, merely to please the eye? And why might not Homer write after it, especially in this place where he manifestly indulges his fancy, while he brings his Heroe to the first dawning of happiness? He has long dwelt upon a series of horrors, and his imagination being tired with the melancholy story, it is not impossible but his spirit might be enliven'd with the Subject while he wrote, and this might lead him to indulge his fancy in a wonderful, and perhaps fabulous description. In short, I should much rather chuse to believe that the memory of the things to which he alludes in the description of the cave is lost, than credit such a labour'd and distant Allegory.

Virgil has imitated the description of this haven, Æn. lib. 1.

Scaliger infinitely prefers the Roman Poet: Homer, says he, speaks humilia humiliter, Virgilius grandiora magnifice; but what I would chiefly observe is, not what Virgil has imitated, but what he has omitted; namely, all that seems odd or less intelligible, I mean the works of the bees in a cave so damp and moist; and the two gates thro' which the Gods and men enter.

I shall offer a conjecture to explain these two lines.

It has been already observ'd, that the Æthiopians held an annual sacrifice of twelve days to the Gods; all that time they carried their images in procession, and placed them at their festivals, and for this reason the Gods were said to feast with the Æthiopians; that is, they were present with them by their statues: Thus also Themis was said to form or dissolve assemblies, because they carried her image to the assemblies when they were conven'd, and when they were broken up they carried it away. Now we have already remark'd, that this port was sacred to Phorcys, because he had a temple by it: It may not then be impossible, but that this Temple having two doors, they might carry the statues of the Gods in their processions thro' the southern gate, which might be consecrated to this use only, and the populace be forbid to enter by it: For that reason the Deities were said to enter, namely, by their images. As the other gate being allotted to common use, was said to be the passage for mortals.

There is nothing in the whole Odyssey that more shocks our reason than the exposing Ulysses asleep on the shores by the Phæacians: “The passage (says Aristotle in his Poetics) where Ulysses is landed in Ithaca, is so full of absurdities, that they would be intolerable in a bad Poet; but Homer has conceal'd them under an infinity of admirable beauties, with which he has adorn'd all that part of the Odyssey; these he has crowded together, as so many charms to hinder our perceiving the defects of the story:” Aristotle must be allow'd to speak with great judgment; for what probability is there that a man so prudent as Ulysses, who was alone in a vessel at the discretion of strangers, should sleep so soundly, as to be taken out of it, carried with all his baggage on shore, and the Phæacians should set sail, and he never awake? This is still more absurd, if we remember that Ulysses has his soul so strongly bent upon his country; Is it then possible, that he could be thus sunk into a lethargy, in the moment when he arrives at it? “However (says Mons. Dacier in his reflections upon Aristotle's Poetics) Homer was not ashamed of that Absurdity, but not being able to omit it, he used it to give Probability to the succeeding story: It was necessary for Ulysses to land alone, in order to his concealment; if he had been discover'd, the suitors would immediately have destroy'd him, if not as the real Ulysses, yet under the pretext of his being an impostor; they would then have seiz'd his dominions, and married Penelope: Now if he had been waked, the Phæacians would have been obliged to have attended him, which he could not have deny'd with decency, nor accepted with safety: Homer therefore had no other way left to unravel his fable happily: But he knew what was absurd in this method, and uses means to hide it; he lavishes out all his wit and address, and lays together such an abundance of admirable Poetry, that the mind of the Reader is so enchanted, that he perceives not the defect; he is like Ulysses lull'd asleep, and knows no more than that Heroe, how he comes there. That great Poet first describes the ceremony of Ulysses taking leave of Alcinous, and his Queen Arete; then he sets off the swiftness of the vessel by two beautiful comparisons; he describes the Haven with great exactness, and adds to it the description of the cave of the Nymphs; this last astonishes the Reader, and he is so intent upon it, that he has not attention to consider the absurdity in the manner of Ulysses's landing: In this moment when he perceives the mind of the Reader as it were intoxicated with these beauties, he steals Ulysses on shore, and dismisses the Phæacians; all this takes up but eight verses. And then lest the Reader should reflect upon it, he immediately introduces the Deities, and gives us a Dialogue between Jupiter and Neptune. This keeps up still our wonder, and our Reason has not time to deliberate; and when the dialogue is ended, a second wonder succeeds, the bark is transform'd into a rock: This is done in the sight of the Phæacians, by which method the Poet carries us a-while from the consideration of Ulysses, by removing the scene to a distant Island; there he detains us 'till we may be suppos'd to have forgot the past absurdities, by relating the astonishment of Alcinous at the sight of the prodigy, and his offering up to Neptune, to appease his anger, a sacrifice of twelve bulls. Then he returns to Ulysses who now wakes, and not knowing the place where he was, (because Minerva made all things appear in a disguised view) he complains of his misfortunes, and accuses the Phæacians of infidelity; at length Minerva comes to him in the shape of a young shepherd, &c. Thus this absurdity, which appears in the fable when examin'd alone, is hidden by the beauties that surround it: this passage is more adorn'd with fiction, and more wrought up with a variety of poetical ornaments than most other places of the Odyssey. From hence Aristotle makes an excellent observation. All efforts imaginable (says that Author) ought to be made to form the fable rightly from the beginning; but if it so happen that some places must necessarily appear absurd, they must be admitted, especially if they contribute to render the rest more probable: but the Poet ought to reserve all the ornaments of diction for these weak parts: The places that have either shining sentiments or manners have no occasion for them; a dazling expression rather damages them, and serves only to eclipse their beauty.

This voluntary and unexpected return of the Phæacians, and their landing Ulysses in his sleep, seems as unaccountable on the part of the Phæacians, as of Ulysses; for what can be more absurd than to see them exposing a King and his effects upon the shores without his knowledge, and then flying away secretly as from an enemy? Having therefore in the preceding note shew'd what the Critics say in condemnation of Homer, it is but justice to lay together what they say in his defence.

That the Phæacians should fly away in secret is no wonder: Ulysses had thro' the whole course of the eleventh book, (particularly by the mouth of the Prophet Tiresias) told the Phæacians that the suitors plotted his destruction; and therefore the mariners might very reasonably be apprehensive that the suitors would use any persons as enemies, who should contribute to restore Ulysses to his country. It was therefore necessary that they should sail away without any stay upon the Ithacan shores. This is the reason why they made this voyage by night; namely to avoid discovery; and it was as necessary to return immediately, that is, just at the appearance of day, before people were abroad, that they might escape observation.

Eustathius remarks, that the Phæacians were an unwarlike nation, or as it is expressed by a Phæacian,

and therefore they were afraid to teach any persons the way to their own country, by discovering the course of Navigation to it; for this reason they begin their voyage to Ithaca by night, land Ulysses without waking him, and return at the appearance of daylight, that they might not shew what course was to be steer'd to come to the Phæacian shores.

Plutarch in his treatise of reading the Poets, tells us, that there is a tradition among the Tuscans, that Ulysses was naturally drowsy, and a person that could not easily be convers'd with, by reason of that sleepy disposition. But perhaps this might be only artful in a man of so great wisdom, and so great disguise or dissimulation; he was slow to give answers, when he had no mind to give any at all: Tho' indeed it must be confessed, that this tradition is countenanc'd by his behaviour in the Odyssey, or rather may be only a story form'd from it. His greatest calamities rise from his sleeping: when he was ready to land upon his own country by the favour of Æolus, he falls asleep, and his companions let loose a wind that bears him from it: He is asleep while they kill the oxen of Apollo; and here he sleeps while he is landed upon his own country. It might perhaps be this conduct in Homer, that gave Horace the hint to say,

implying, that when Homer was at a loss to bring any difficult matter to an issue, he immediately laid his Heroe asleep, and this salved all the difficulty; as in the above-mentioned instances.

Plutarch is of opinion that this sleep of Ulysses was feign'd; and that he made use of the pretence of a natural infirmity, to conceal the streights he was in at that time in his thoughts; being ashamed to dismiss the Phæacians without entertainment and gifts of hospitality, and afraid of being discover'd by the suitors, if he entertain'd such a multitude: Therefore to avoid both these difficulties, he feigns a Sleep while they land him, 'till they sail away.

Eustathius agrees with Plutarch in the main, and adds another reason why the Phæacians land Ulysses sleeping; namely, because they were ashamed to wake him, lest he should think they did it out of avarice, and expectation of a reward for bringing him to his own country.

I will only add, that there might be a natural reason for the Sleep of Ulysses; we are to remember that this is a voyage in the night, the season of repose: and his spirits having been long agitated and fatigued by his calamities, might, upon his peace of mind at the return to his country, settle into a deep calmness and tranquility, and so sink him into a deep Sleep; Homer himself seems to give this as the reason of it in the following lines:

It must be allow'd that the last line admirably paves the way for the following account; and the Poet undoubtedly inserted it, to prevent our surprize at the manner of his being set on shore, by calling his Sleep

How far a wise man is oblig'd to resist the calls of nature, I leave to the discussion of Philosophers; those of sleep are no more to be resisted, than those of thirst or hunger. But yet I confess Ulysses yielded unseasonably, and the strong passion and love for his Country that so fully possess'd his soul, should have given him a few hours of vigilance, when he was ready to see it after an absence of almost twenty years.

I refer the Reader to the 8th book of the Odyssey, for a further account of this transformation. Scaliger condemns it, Ulysses navis in saxum mutatur a Neptuno, ut immortalem faciat, quem odio habere debuit. But will it not be an answer to say, that it is an immortal monument of the vengeance and power of Neptune, and that whenever the story of the Vessel was mention'd, the punishment likewise must be remembred in honour of that Deity? Some are of opinion, that it is a physical Allegory, and that Homer delivers the opinion of the Antients concerning the Transmutation of one species into another, as wood into stone, by Water, that is by Neptune the God of it; according to those lines of Ovid:

But perhaps this is only one of those marvellous fictions written after the taste of antiquity, which delighted in wonders, and which the nature of Epic Poetry allows. “The Marvellous (says Aristotle in his Poetics) ought to take place in Tragedy, but much more in the Epic, in which it proceeds even to the extravagant; for the Marvellous is always agreeable, and a Proof of it is, that those who relate any thing, generally add something to the Truth of it, that it may better please those who hear it. Homer (continues he) is the man who has given the best instructions to other Poets how to tell Lies agreeably.” Horace is of the same opinion.

However we must not think that Aristotle advises Poets to put things evidently false and impossible into their Poems, or gives them license to run out into wildness; he only means (as Monsieur Dacier observes) that the Wonderful should exceed the Probable, but not destroy it; and this will be effected if the Poet has the Address to prepare the Reader, and to lead him by a probable train of things that depend on miracle, to the miracle it self, and reconcile him to it by degrees, so that his Reason does not perceive, at least is not shock'd at the Illusion; thus for instance, Homer puts this Transformation into the hands of a Deity; he prepares us for it in the 8th book, he gives us the reason of the transformation; namely the anger of Neptune; and at last he brings in Jupiter assenting to it. This is the method Homer takes to reconcile it to Probability. Virgil undoubtedly thought it a beauty, for after Homer's example, he gives us a transformation of the ships of Æneas into Sea-nymphs.

I have already remark'd from Bossu, that such miracles as these ought not to be too frequent in an Epic Poem; all the machines that require Divine probability ought to be so detach'd from the action of the Poem, that they may be retrench'd from it, without destroying the action: Those that are essential to the action ought to be founded upon human probability. Thus if we take away this transformation, there is no chasm; and it no way affects the integrity of the action.

This agrees with what Homer writes in a former part of the Odyssey,

that the Gods themselves may be prevail'd upon to change their anger by prayer: a sentiment agreeable to true religion. Homer does not tell us that the last denunciation of covering the town with a mountain, was fulfilled: It is probable that it was averted by the piety of Alcinous. But (as Eustathius observes) it was artful in the Poet to leave this point doubtful, to avoid detection in deviating from true History; for should posterity enquire where this land of the Phæacians lay, it would be found to be Corson of the Venetians, and not covered with any mountain; but should this city have happened to have been utterly abolished by time, and so lost to posterity, it would have agreed with the relation of Homer, who leaves room to suppose it destroyed by Neptune. But how could Neptune be said to cover it with a mountain? had not an inundation been more suitable to the God of the Ocean? Neptune is called εννοσιγαιος, and ενοσιχθων, or the Earth-shaker; earthquakes were suppos'd to be occasion'd by the Ocean, or waters conceal'd in the caverns of the ground; and consequently Neptune may tumble a mountain upon this city of the Phæacians.

The meaning of this whole passage is probably no more than that Ulysses by his long absence had forgot the face of his own country; the woods by almost twenty years growth had a different appearance; and the public roads were alter'd by so great a length of time. How then should Ulysses come to the knowledge of the place? He goes to a shepherd, and by telling him a plausible story draws it from him. This artifice is the Minerva that gives him information. By the veil of thicken'd air is meant, that Ulysses, to accomplish his re-establishment, took upon him a disguise, and conceal'd himself from the Ithacans; and this too being the dictate of Wisdom, Homer ascribes it to Pallas.

The words of the original are,

which are usually apply'd by interpreters to Ulysses, and mean that the Goddess disguis'd him with this veil, that no one might know him. Dacier is of opinion that αγνωστος ought to be used actively; that is, the Goddess acted thus to make him unknowing where he was, not unknown to the people; for that this was the effect of the veil appears from the removal of it; for immediately upon the dispersion,

That the word αγνωστος will bear an active signification, she proves from the scholiast upon OEdipus of Sophocles. But perhaps the context will not permit this interpretation, tho' we should allow that the word αγνωστος will bear it. The passage runs thus: Pallas cast round a veil of air, that she might make him unknown, that she might instruct him, and that his wife and friends might not know him; for thus Homer interprets αγνωστον in the very next line, μη γνοιη αλοχος. It is therefore probable, that this veil had a double effect, both to render Ulysses unknown to the country, and the country to Ulysses. I am persuaded that this is the true meaning of αγνωστος, from the usage of it in this very book of the Odyssey:

Here it can possibly signify nothing, but I will render thee unknown to all mankind; it is therefore probable, that in both places it bears the same signification.

The conduct of Ulysses in numb'ring his effects, has been censur'd by some Critics as avaritious: But we find him vindicated by Plutarch in his treatise of reading the Poets: “If (says that Author) Ulysses finding himself in a solitary place, and ignorant of the country, and having no security even for his own person, is nevertheless chiefly sollicitous for his effects, lest any part might have been stol'n; his covetousness is really to be pitied and detested. But this is not the case: He counts his goods merely to prove the fidelity of the Phæacians, and to gather from it, whether they had landed him upon his own country; for it was not probable that they would expose him in a strange region, and leave his goods untouch'd, and by consequence reap no advantage from their dishonesty: This therefore was a very proper test, from which to discover if he was in his own country, and he deserv'd commendation for his wisdom in that action.

Nothing is more notorious than that an Epic writer ought to give importance and grandeur to his action as much as possible in every circumstance; here the Poet takes an opportunity to set the country of Ulysses in the most advantageous light, and shews that it was a prize worth the contest, and all the labour which Ulysses bestows to regain it. Statius is very faulty in this particular, he declaims against the designs he ascribes to his Heroes, he debases his own subject, and shews that the great labour he puts upon them was ill employ'd for so wretched and pitiful a kingdom as that of Thebes. Thebaid. lib. 1.

But Ulysses was not King of Ithaca alone, but of Zacynthus, and Cephalenia, and the neighbouring Islands. This appears from the second book of the Iliad, where he leads his subjects to the wars of Troy.

It is true that Ithaca contains little more than fifty miles in circuit, now call'd Val de compare; Cephalenia is larger, and is one hundred and sixty miles in circumference: Zacynthus, now Zant, is in circuit about sixty miles, unspeakably fruitful, says Sandys, producing the best oil in the world and excellent strong wines; but the chief riches of the Island consist in Corinths, which the Inhabitants of Zant have in such quantities that they know not what to do with them; for besides private gains, amounting to fifteen hundred thousand Zechins, they yearly pay forty eight thousand dollars for customs and other duties. It is impossible so little a portion of earth should be more beneficial.

This observation is necessary to shew the value of Ulysses's dominions, and that the subject of the Odyssey is not trivial and unimportant; it is likewise of use to convince us, that the domestic cares and concerns of Telemachus proceeded not from meanness, but from the manners of the age; when pomp and luxury had not yet found countenance from Princes; and that when we see Eumæus, who has the charge of Ulysses's hogs, we are not to suppose him a person of low rank and fortunes, but an Officer of State, and trust: The riches of those ages consisting in flocks and herds, in swine and oxen.

Nothing can more raise our esteem of the judgment of Homer, than such strokes of art. Here he introduces Minerva to let Ulysses into the knowledge of his country; How does she do this? She Geographically describes it to him; so that he must almost know it by the description: but still she suppresses the name, and this keeps him in a pleasing suspense; he attends to every syllable to hear her name Ithaca, which she still defers, to continue his doubts and hopes, and at last in the very close of her speech she indirectly mentions it. This discovery in my judgment is carried on with great address, and cannot fail of awakening the curiosity of the Reader; and I wonder how it could escape the observation of all the Commentators upon the Odyssey.

Eustathius observes that this relation is not consonant to antient Histories, but invented to make the disguis'd Ulysses more acceptable to the suitors, should he be brought before them: For this person whom they could not know to be Ulysses, could not fail of finding favour with them, having slain the son of Idomeneus the friend of Ulysses: And tho' it be not recorded by the Antients, yet it may be conjectur'd, that Orsilochus was thus slain, tho' not by Ulysses. If the death of Orsilochus was a story that made a noise in the world about that time, it was very artful in Ulysses to make use of it, to gain credit with this seeming Ithacan; for he relating the Fact truly, might justly be believed to speak truly when he nam'd himself the Author of it, and consequently avoid all suspicion of being Ulysses. It is observable that Ulysses is very circumstantial in his story, he relates the time, the place, the manner, and the reason of his killing Orsilochus: this is done to give the story a greater air of truth; for it seems almost impossible that so many circumstances could be invented in a moment, and so well laid together as not to discover their own falsity. What he says concerning the Phæacians leaving his effects entire without any damage, is not spoken (as Eustathius observes) in vain; he extolls the fidelity of the Phæacians, as an example to be imitated by this seeming Ithacensian, and makes it an argument that he should practise the same integrity, in not offering violence or fraud to his effects or person.

'Tis true, the manner of the death of Orsilochus is liable to some objection, as it was executed clandestinely, and not heroically, as might be expected from the valour of Ulysses: but if it was truth that Orsilochus was killed in that manner, Ulysses could not falsify the story: But in reality he is no way concern'd in it; for he speaks in the character of a Cretan, not in the person of Ulysses.

The whole story of the Voyages of Ulysses is related differently by Dictys Cretensis, in his History of the war of Troy: I will transcribe it, if not as a truth, yet as a curiosity.

“About this time Ulysses arriv'd at Crete with two vessels hir'd of the Phoelig;nicians: For Telamon, enrag'd for the death of his Son Ajax, had seiz'd upon all that belong'd to Ulysses and his companions, and he himself was with difficulty set at liberty. While he was in Crete, Idomeneus ask'd him how he fell into such great calamities; to whom he recounted all his adventures. He told him, that after his departure from Troy he made an incursion upon Ismarus of the Ciconians, and there got great booty; then touching upon the coasts of the Lotophagi, he met with ill success, and sail'd away to Sicily; there, Cyclops and Læstrigon two brothers used him barbarously; and at length he lost most of his companions thro' the cruelty of Polypheme and Antiphates, the sons of Cyclops and Læstrygon; but being afterwards receiv'd into favour by Polypheme, his companions attempted to carry off Arene the King's daughter, who was fallen in love with Elpenor, one of his associates; but the affair being discover'd, and Ulysses dismiss'd, he sail'd away by the Æolian Islands, and came to Circe and Calypso, who were both Queens of two Isles; there his companions wasted some time in dalliance and pleasures: Thence he sail'd to a people that were fam'd for magical incantations, to learn his future fortunes. He escap'd the rocks of the Sirens, Scylla and Charybdis, tho' he there lost many of his companions; then he fell into the hands of Phœnician rovers, who spar'd him; and afterwards coming to Crete, he was dismiss'd by Idomeneus with two vessels, and arriv'd at the coast of Alcinous, who being prevail'd upon by the glory of his name entertain'd him courteously: From him he learn'd that Penelope was address'd by thirty Princes; upon this, with much intreaty, he persuaded Alcinous to undertake a voyage to re-establish him in his territories; they set sail together, and concealing themselves with Telemachus 'till all things were concerted, they led their friends to the Palace, and slew the Suitors oppress'd with sleep and drowziness.”

The difference between the Poet and the Historian lies chiefly in what is here said of the death of Orsilochus; Dictys tells us, that Ulysses was entertain'd like a friend by Idomeneus, and Homer writes that he slew his Son; now Idomeneus cannot be supposed to have favour'd the murtherer of his son: But this is no objection, if we consider that Ulysses speaks not as Ulysses, but in a personated character, and therefore Orsilochus must be judg'd to have fallen by the hand of the person whose character Ulysses assumes; that is, by a Cretan, and not Ulysses.

Dictys is suppos'd to have serv'd under this Idomeneus, and to have wrote an History of the Trojan war in Phœnician characters; and Tzetzes tells us, that Homer form'd his Poem upon his plan; but the History now extant publish'd by Mrs. L'Fevre is a counterfeit: So that what I have here translated, is inserted not as an authority, but as the opinion of an unknown writer; and I lay no other weight upon it.

It has been objected against Homer, that he gives a degree of dissimulation to his Heroe, unworthy of a brave man, and an ingenuous disposition: Here we have a full vindication of Ulysses, from the mouth of the Goddess of Wisdom; he uses only a prudent dissimulation; he is αγχινοος, which we may almost literally render, master of a great presence of mind: that is, upon every emergency he finds an immediate resource to extricate himself from it. If his dissimulation had been vicious, it would have been an absurdity to have introduced Minerva praising and recommending it; on the contrary, all disguise which consists with innocence and prudence, is so far from being mean, that it really is a praise to a person who uses it. I speak not of common life, or as if men should always act under a mask, and in disguise; that indeed betrays design and insincerity: I only recommend it as an instance how men should behave in the article of danger, when it is as reputable to elude an enemy as to defeat one.

This is the character of Ulysses, who uses only such artifice as is suggested by Wisdom, such as turns to his benefit in all extremities, such as Minerva may boast to practise without a rival among the Gods, as much as Ulysses among mankind. In short, this dissimulation, in war may be called stratagem and conduct, in other exigencies address and dexterity; nor is Ulysses criminal, but artful.

It may appear somewhat extraordinary that Ulysses should not believe Minerva, who had already assur'd him that he was landed in his own country: But two answers may be given to this objection, and his doubts may be ascrib'd to his having lost the knowledge of it thro' his long absence, for that is the veil which is cast before his eyes; or to the nature of man in general, who when he desires any thing vehemently scarce believes himself in the possession of it, even while he possesses it. Nothing is more frequent than such expressions upon the Theater, and in the transport of an unexpected happiness, we are apt to think it a delusion; from hence the fears of Ulysses arise, and they are to be imputed to his vehement love of his country, not to his unbelief.

Nothing is more judicious than this conduct in Homer; the whole number of suitors are to be slain by a few hands, which might shock our reason if it were related suddenly, without any preparation to shew us the probability of it: This is the intent of Homer in this and various other places of the Odyssey: he softens the relation, and reconciles us to it by such insertions, before he describes that great event. The Antients (says Eustathius) would not here allow Ulysses to speak hyperbolically; he is that Heroe whom we have already seen in the Iliad resist whole bands of Trojans, when the Greeks were repuls'd, where he slew numbers of enemies, and sustain'd their assaults till he was disengag'd by Ajax. Besides, there is an excellent moral in what Ulysses speaks; it contains this certain truth (adds Dacier) that a man assisted by Heaven, has not nly nothing to fear, but is assur'd to triumph over all the united powers of mankind.

The words in the Greek are ασπετον ουδας, which Eustathius imagines to signify the land of Ithaca; for the hall even of a Palace is too narrow to be stil'd immense or ασπετον. But this contradicts the matter of fact, as appears from the place where the suitors were slain, which was not in the fields of Ithaca, but in the Palace of Ulysses: ασπετον really signifies large or spacious; and a Palace that could entertain at one time so great a number of suitors might be call'd vast or ασπετος, which Hesychius interprets by λιαν πολυς, μεγας. Dacier.

There are many reasons why this injunction was necessary: The Heroe of a Poem ought never to be out of sight, never out of action: neither is Ulysses idle in this recess, he goes thither to acquaint himself with the condition of his affairs, both public and domestic; he there lays the plan for the destruction of the suitors, enquires after their numbers, and the state of Penelope and Telemachus. Besides, he here resides in full security and privacy, till he has prepar'd all things for the execution of the great event of the whole Odyssey.

This rock was so called from a young man whose name was Corax, who in pursuit of an Hare fell from it and broke his neck: Arethusa his mother hearing of the accident hang'd her self by the fountain, which afterwards took its name from her, and was called Arethusa. Eustathius.

I doubt not but Homer draws after the life. We have the whole equipage and accoutrements of a beggar, yet so drawn by Homer, as even to retain a nobleness and dignity; let any person read the description, and he will be convinc'd of it; what can be more lofty and sonorous than this verse?

It is no humility to say that a Translator must fall short of the original in such passages; the Greek language has words noble and sounding to express all subjects, which are wanting in our tongue; all that is to be expected is to keep the diction from appearing mean or ridiculous. They are greatly mistaken who impute this disguise of Ulysses in the form of a beggar, as a fault to Homer; there is nothing either absurd or mean in it; for the way to make a King undiscoverable, is to dress him as unlike himself as possible. David counterfeited madness, as Ulysses poverty, and neither of them ought to lye under any imputation; it is easy to vindicate Homer, from the disguise of the greatest persons and Generals in History, upon the like emergencies; but there is no occasion for it.

Homer is now preparing to turn the relation from Ulysses to Telemachus, whom we left at Sparta with Menelaus in the fourth book of the Odyssey. He has been long out of sight, and we have heard of none of his actions; Telemachus is not the Heroe of the Poem, he is only an under Agent, and consequently the Poet was at liberty to omit any or all of his adventures, unless such as have a necessary connection with the story of the Odyssey, and contribute to the re-establishment of Ulysses; by this method likewise Homer gives variety to his Poetry, and breaks or gathers up the thread of it, as it tends to diversify the whole: We may consider an Epic Poem as a spacious garden, where there are to be different walks and views, lest the eye should be tired with too great a regularity and uniformity: The chief avenue ought to be the most ample and noble, but there should be by-walks to retire into sometimes for our ease and refreshment. The Poet thus gives us several openings to draw us forward with pleasure; and though the great event of the Poem be chiefly in view, yet he sometimes leads us aside into other short passages which end in it again, and bring us with pleasure to the conclusion of it. Thus for instance, Homer begins with the story of Telemachus and the Suitors; then he leaves them a-while, and more largely lays before us the adventures of Ulysses, the Heroe of his Poem; when he has satisfy'd the curiosity of the Reader by a full narration of what belongs to him, he returns to Telemachus and the Suitors: at length he unites the two stories, and proceeds directly to the end of the Odyssey. Thus all the collateral and indirect passages fall into one center, and main point of view. The eye is continually entertain'd with some new object, and we pass on from incident to incident, not only without fatigue, but with pleasure and admiration.