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1205

THE SIXTEENTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

We have at the Entrance of this Book one of the most beautiful Parts of the Iliad. The two different Characters are admirably sustain'd in the Dialogue of the two Heroes, wherein there is not a Period but strongly marks not only their natural Temper, but that particular Disposition of Mind in either, which arises from the present State of Affairs. We see Patroclus touch'd with the deepest Compassion for the Misfortune of the Greeks, (whom the Trojans had forc'd to retreat to their Ships, and which Ships were on the Point of burning) prostrating himself before the Vessel of Achilles, and pouring out his Tears at his Feet. Achilles, struck with the Grief of his Friend, demands the Cause of it. Patroclus, pointing to the Ships, where the Flames already began to rise, tells him he is harder than the Rocks or Sea which lay in prospect before them, if he is not touch'd with so moving a Spectacle, and can see in cold Blood his Friends perishing before his Eyes. As nothing can be more natural and affecting than the Speech of Patroclus, so nothing is more lively and Picturesque than the Attitude he is here describ'd in.

The Pathetic of Patroclus's Speech is finely contrasted by the Fiertè of that of Achilles. While the former is melting with Sorrow for his Countrymen, the utmost he can hope from the latter, is but to borrow his Armour and Troops; to obtain his personal Assistance he knows is impossible. At the very Instant that Achilles is mov'd to ask the Cause of his Friend's Concern, he seems to say that nothing could deserve it but the Death of their Fathers: and in the same Breath speaks of the total Destruction of the Greeks as of too slight a Cause for Tears. Patroclus, at the opening of this Speech, dares not name Agamemnon even for being wounded; and after he has tried to bend him by all the Arguments that could affect an human Breast, concludes by supposing that some Oracle or supernatual Inspiration is the Cause that with-holds his Arms. What can match the Fierceness of his Answer? Which implies, that not the Oracles of Heaven itself should be regarded, if they stood in Competition with his Resentment: That if he yields, it must be thro' his own mere Motive: The only reason he has ever to yield, is that Nature itself cannot support Anger eternally: And if he yields now, it is only because he had before determin'd to do so at a certain time, (Il. 9. V. 773.) That time was not till the Flames should approach to his own Ships, till the last Article of Danger, and that not of Danger to Greece, but to himself. Thus his very Pity has the sternest Qualifications in the World. After all, what is it he yields to? Only to suffer his Friend to go in his stead, just to save them from present Ruin, but he expressly forbids him to proceed any farther in their Assistance, than barely to put out the Fires, and secure his own and his Friend's Return into their Country: And all this concludes with a Wish, that (if it were possible) every Greek and every Trojan might perish except themselves. Such is that Wrath of Achilles, that more than Wrath, as the Greek μηνις implies, which Homer has painted in so strong a Colouring.


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The ARGUMENT.

The sixth Battel: The Acts and Death of Patroclus.

Patroclus (in Pursuance of the Request of Nestor in the eleventh Book) entreats Achilles to suffer him to go to the Assistance of the Greeks with Achilles's Troops and Armour. He agrees to it, but at the same time charges him to content himself with rescuing the Fleet, without farther Pursuit of the Enemy. The Armour, Horses, Soldiers, and Officers of Achilles are described. Achilles offers a Libation for the Success of his Friend, after which Patroclus leads the Myrmidons to Battel. The Trojans at the Sight of Patroclus in Achilles's Armour, taking him for that Hero, are cast into the utmost Consternation: He beats them off from the Vessels, Hector himself flies, Sarpedon is kill'd, tho' Jupiter was averse to his Fate. Several other Particulars of the Battel are described; in the Heat of which, Patroclus, neglecting the Orders of Achilles, pursues the Foe to the Walls of Troy; where Apollo repulses and disarms him, Euphorbus wounds him, and Hector kills him, which concludes the Book.


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So warr'd both Armies on th'ensanguin'd Shore,
While the black Vessels smoak'd with human Gore.
Meantime Patroclus to Achilles flies;
The streaming Tears fall copious from his Eyes;
Not faster, trickling to the Plains below,
From the tall Rock the sable Waters flow.

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Divine Pelides, with Compassion mov'd,

Verse 8. Indulgent to his best belov'd.] The Friendship of Achilles and Patroclus is celebrated by all Antiquity: And Homer, notwithstanding the Anger of Achilles was his profess'd Subject, has found the Secret to discover, thro' that very Anger, the softer Parts of his Character. In this View we shall find him generous in his Temper, despising Gain and Booty, and as far as his Honour is not concern'd, fond of his Mistress, and easy to his Friend: Not proud, but when injur'd; and not more revengeful when ill us'd, than grateful and gentle when respectfully treated. “Patroclus (says Philostratus, who probably grounds his Assertion on some ancient Tradition) “was not so much elder than Achilles as to pretend to direct him, but of a tender, modest, and unassuming Nature; constant and diligent in his Attendance, and seeming to have no Affections but those of his Friend.” The same Author has a very pretty Passage, where Ajax is introduced enquiring of Achilles, “Which of all his warlike Actions were the most difficult and dangerous to him? He answers, Those which he undertook for the sake of his Friends. And which (continues Ajax) were the most pleasing and easy? The very same, replies Achilles. He then asks him, Which of all the Wounds he ever bore in Battel was the most painful to him? Achilles answers, That which he receiv'd from Hector. But Hector, says Ajax, never gave you a Wound. Yes, replies Achilles, a mortal one, when he slew my Friend Patroclus.”

It is said in the Life of Alexander the Great, that when that Prince visited the Monuments of the Heroes at Troy, and plac'd a Crown upon the Tomb of Achilles; his Friend Hephæstion plac'd another on that of Patroclus, as an Intimation of his being to Alexander what the other was to Achilles. On which Occasion the Saying of Alexander is recorded; That Achilles was happy indeed, for having had such a Friend to love him living, and such a Poet to celebrate him dead.

Thus spoke, indulgent to his best belov'd.

Patroclus, say, what Grief thy Bosom bears,
That flows so fast in these unmanly Tears?

Verse 11. No Girl, no Infant, &c.] I know the obvious Translation of this Passage makes the Comparison consist only in the Tears of the Infant, apply'd to those of Patroclus. But certainly the Idea of the Simile will be much finer, if we comprehend also in it the Mother's Fondness and Concern, awaken'd by this Uneasiness of the Child, which no less aptly corresponds with the Tenderness of Achilles on the Sight of his Friend's Affliction. And there is yet a third Branch of the Comparison, in the Pursuit, and constant Application the Infant makes to the Mother, in the same manner as Patroclus follows Achilles with his Grief, till he forces him to take notice of it. I think (all these Circumstances laid together) nothing can be more affecting or exact in all its Views, than this Similitude; which without that Regard, has perhaps seem'd but low and trivial to an unreflecting Reader.

No Girl, no Infant whom the Mother keeps

From her lov'd Breast, with fonder Passion weeps;
Not more the Mother's Soul that Infant warms,
Clung to her Knees, and reaching at her Arms,
Than thou hast mine! Oh tell me, to what end
Thy melting Sorrows thus pursue thy Friend?
Griev'st thou for me, or for my martial Band?
Or come sad Tidings from our native Land?
Our Fathers live, (our first, most tender Care)
Thy good Menœtius breathes the vital Air,
And hoary Peleus yet extends his Days;
Pleas'd in their Age to hear their Children's Praise.
Or may some meaner Cause thy Pity claim?
Perhaps yon' Reliques of the Grecian Name,
Doom'd in their Ships to sink by Fire and Sword,
And pay the Forfeit of their haughty Lord?

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Whate'er the Cause, reveal thy secret Care,
And speak those Sorrows which a Friend would share.
A Sigh, that instant, from his Bosom broke,
Another follow'd, and Patroclus spoke.

Verse 31. Let Greece at length with Pity touch thy Breast.] The Commentators labour to prove, that the Words in the Original, which begin this Speech, Μη νεμεσα, Be not angry, are not meant to desire Achilles to bear no farther Resentment against the Greeks, but only not to be displeas'd at the Tears which Patroclus sheds for their Misfortune. Patroclus (they say) was not so imprudent to begin his Intercession in that manner, when there was need of something more insinuating. I take this to be an Excess of Refinement: The Purpose of every Period in his Speech is to persuade Achilles to lay aside his Anger; why then may he not begin by desiring it? The whole Question is, whether he may speak openly in favour of the Greeks in the first half of the Verse, or in the latter? For in the same Line he represents their Distress.

------ τοιον γαρ αχος βεβιηκεν Αχαιους.

'Tis plain he treats him without much Reserve, calls him implacable, inexorable, and even mischievous (for αιναρετη implies no less.) I don't see wherein the Caution of this Speech consists; it is a generous, unartful Petition, whereof Achilles's Nature would much more approve, than of all the Artifice of Ulysses (to which he express'd his Hatred in the ninth Book, V. 310.)

Let Greece at length with Pity touch thy Breast,

Thy self a Greek; and, once, of Greeks the best!
Lo! ev'ry Chief that might her Fate prevent,
Lies pierc'd with Wounds, and bleeding in his Tent.

Verse 35.

Eurypylus, Tydides, Atreus' Son,
And wife Ulysses

.------]

Patroclus in mentioning the wounded Princes to Achilles, takes care not to put Agamemnon first, lest that odious Name striking his Ear on a sudden, should shut it against the rest of his Discourse: Neither does he name him last, for fear Achilles dwelling upon it should fall into Passion: But he slides it into the middle, mixing and confounding it with the rest, that it might not be taken too much notice of, and that the Names which precede and follow it may diminish the Hatred it might excite. Wherefore he does not so much as accompany it with an Epithet.

I think the foregoing Remark of Eustathius is very ingenious, and I have given into it so far, as to chuse rather to make Patroclus call him Atreus' Son than Agamemnon, which yet farther softens it, since thus it might as well be imagin'd he spoke of Menelaus, as of Agamemnon.

Eurypylus, Tydides, Atreus' Son,

And wise Ulysses, at the Navy groan
More for their Country's Wounds, than for their own.
Their Pain, soft Arts of Pharmacy can ease,
Thy Breast alone no Lenitives appease.
May never Rage like thine my Soul enslave,
O great in vain! unprofitably brave!
Thy Country slighted in her last Distress,
What Friend, what Man, from thee shall hope redress?
No—Men unborn, and Ages yet behind,
Shall curse that fierce, that unforgiving Mind.

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O Man unpitying! if of Man thy Race;
But sure thou spring'st not from a soft Embrace,
Nor ever am'rous Hero caus'd thy Birth,
Nor ever tender Goddess brought thee forth.
Some rugged Rock's hard Entrails gave thee Form,
And raging Seas produc'd thee in a Storm,
A Soul well-suiting that tempestuous Kind,
So rough thy Manners, so untam'd thy Mind.
If some dire Oracle thy Breast alarm,
If ought from Jove, or Thetis, stop thy Arm,
Some Beam of Comfort yet on Greece may shine,
If I but lead the Myrmidonian Line:
Clad in thy dreadful Arms if I appear,
Proud Troy shall tremble, and desert the War:
Without thy Person Greece shall win the Day,

Verse 61. And thy mere Image chase her Foes away.] It is hard to conceive a greater Complement, or one that could more touch the warlike Ambition of Achilles, than this which Homer puts into the Mouth of Patroclus. It was also an Encomium which he could not suspect of Flattery; since the Person who made it, desires to hazard his Life upon the Security, that the Enemy could not support the Sight of the very Armour of Achilles: And indeed Achilles himself seems to entertain no less a Thought, in the Answer to this Speech, where he ascribes the Flight of Troy to the blazing of his Helmet: a Circumstance wonderfully fine, and nobly exalting the Idea of this Hero's terrible Character. Besides all this, Homer had it in his View to prepare hereby the wonderful Incident that is to ensue in the eighteenth Book, where the very Sight of Achilles from his Ship turns the Fortune of the War.

And thy mere Image chase her Foes away.

Press'd by fresh Forces, her o'erlabour'd Train
Shall quit the Ships, and Greece respire again.
Thus, blind to Fate! with supplicating Breath,
Thou beg'st his Arms, and in his Arms, thy Death.

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Unfortunately Good! a boding Sigh
Thy Friend return'd; and with it, this Reply.
Patroclus! thy Achilles knows no Fears;
Nor Words from Jove, nor Oracles he hears;
Nor ought a Mother's Caution can suggest;
The Tyrant's Pride lies rooted in my Breast.
My Wrongs, my Wrongs, my constant Thought engage,
Those, my sole Oracles, inspire my Rage:
I made him Tyrant; gave him Pow'r to wrong
Ev'n me: I felt it; and shall feel it long.
The Maid, my black-ey'd Maid, he forc'd away,
Due to the Toils of many a well-fought Day;
Due to my Conquest of her Father's Reign;
Due to the Votes of all the Grecian Train.
From me he forc'd her; me, the bold and brave;
Disgrac'd, dishonour'd, like the meanest Slave.
But bear we this—The Wrongs I grieve, are past;
'Tis time our Fury should relent at last:

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I fix'd its Date; the Day I wish'd appears:
Now Hector to my Ships his Battel bears,
The Flames my Eyes, the Shouts invade my Ears.
Go then Patroclus! court fair Honour's Charms
In Troy's fam'd Fields, and in Achilles' Arms
Lead forth my martial Myrmidons to fight,
Go save the Fleets, and conquer in my right.
See the thin Reliques of their baffled Band,
At the last Edge of yon' deserted Land!
Behold all Ilion on their Ships descends;
How the Cloud blackens, how the Storm impends!
It was not thus, when, at my Sight amaz'd,
Troy saw and trembled, as this Helmet blaz'd:
Had not th'injurious King our Friendship lost,
Yon' ample Trench had bury'd half her Host.
No Camps, no Bulwarks now the Trojans fear,
Those are not dreadful, no Achilles there:

Verse 101. No longer flames the Lance of Tydeus' Son.] By what Achilles here says, joining Diomede to Agamemnon in this taunting Reflection, one may justly suspect there was some particular Disagreement and Emulation between these two Heroes. This we may suppose to be the more natural, because Diomede was of all the Greeks confessedly the nearest in Fame and Courage to Achilles, and therefore the most likely to move his Envy, as being the most likely to supply his Place. The same Sentiments are to be observ'd in Diomede with regard to Achilles; he is always confident in his own Valour, and therefore in their greatest Extremities he no where acknowledges the Necessity of appeasing Achilles, but always in Council appears most forward and resolute to carry on the War without him. For this reason he was not thought a fit Embassador to Achilles; and upon Return from the Embassy, he breaks into a severe Reflection, not only upon Achilles, but even upon Agamemnon who had sent this Embassy to him. I wish thou hadst not sent these Supplications and Gifts to Achilles; his Insolence was extreme before, but now his Arrogance will be intolerable; let us not mind whether he goes or stays, but do our Duty and prepare for the Battel. Eustathius observes, that Achilles uses this particular Expression concerning Diomede,

Ου γαρ Τυδειδεω Διομηδεος εν παλαμησι
Μαινεται εγχειη ------

because it was the same boasting Expression Diomed had apply'd to himself, Il. 8. V. III. But this having been said only to Nestor in the Heat of Fight, how can we suppose Achilles had Notice of it? This Observation shews the great Diligence, if not the Judgment, of the good Archbishop.

No longer flames the Lance of Tydeus' Son;

No more your Gen'ral calls his Heroes on;

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Hector, alone, I hear; His dreadful Breath
Commands your Slaughter, or proclaims your Death.
Yet now, Patroclus, issue to the Plain;
Now save the Ships, the rising Fires restrain,
And give the Greeks to visit Greece again.
But heed my Words, and mark a Friend's Command
Who trusts his Fame and Honours in thy Hand,
And from thy Deeds expects, th'Achaian Host

Verse 111. Shall render back the beauteous Maid.] But this is what the Greeks have already offer'd to do, and which he has refus'd; this then is an Inequality in Achilles's Manners. Not at all: Achilles is still ambitious; when he refused these Presents, the Greeks were not low enough, he would not receive them till they were reduced to the last Extremity, and till he was sufficiently reveng'd by their Losses. Dacier.

Shall render back the beauteous Maid he lost:

Rage uncontroul'd thro' all the hostile Crew,

Verse 113. But touch not Hector .] This Injunction of Achilles is highly correspondent to his ambitious Character: He is by no means willing that the Conquest of Hector should be atchiev'd by any Hand but his own: In that Point of Glory he is jealous even of his dearest Friend. This also wonderfully strengthens the Idea we have of his Implacability and Resentment; since at the same time that nothing can move him to assist the Greeks in the Battel, we see it is the utmost Force upon his Nature to abstain from it, by the fear he manifests lest any other should subdue this Hero.

The Verse I am speaking of,

Τους αλλους εναριξ': απο δ' Εκτορος ιχεο χειρας,

is cited by Diogenes Laertius as Homer's, but not to be found in the Editions before that of Barnes. It is certainly one of the Instructions of Achilles to Patroclus, and therefore properly placed in this Speech; but I believe better after

------ ποτι δ', αγλαα δωρα πορωσιν,

than where he has inserted it four Lines above: For Achilles's Instructions not beginning till V. 83.

Πειθεο δ', ως τοι εγω μυθου τελος εν φρεσι θειω,

it is not so proper to divide this material one from the rest. Whereas (according to the Method I propose) the whole Context will lie in this order. Obey my Injunctions, as you consult my Interest and Honour. Make as great a Slaughter of the Trojans as you will, but abstain from Hector. And as soon as you have repuls'd them from the Ships, be satisfy'd and return: For it may be fatal to pursue the Victory to the Walls of Troy .

But touch not Hector, Hector is my due.

Tho' Jove in Thunder should command the War,

Verse 115. Consult my Glory, and forbear.] Achilles tells Patroclus, that if he pursues the Foe too far, whether he shall be Victor or Vanquish'd, it must prove either way prejudicial to his Glory. For by the former, the Greeks having no more need of Achilles's Aid, will not render him his Captive, nor try any more to appease him by Presents: By the latter, his Arms would be left in the Enemy's Hands, and he himself upbraided with the Death of Patroclus. Dacier.

Be just, consult my Glory, and forbear.

The Fleet once sav'd, desist from farther chace,
Nor lead to Ilion's Walls the Grecian Race;
Some adverse God thy Rashness may destroy;
Some God, like Phœbus, ever kind to Troy.
Let Greece, redeem'd from this destructive Strait,
Do her own Work, and leave the rest to Fate.

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Verse 122. Oh would to all, &c.] Achilles from his over-flowing Gall vents this Execration: The Trojans he hates as professed Enemies, and he detests the Grecians as People who had with Calmness overlook'd his Wrongs. Some of the ancient Criticks not entring into the Manners of Achilles, would have expunged this Imprecation, as uttering an universal Malevolence to Mankind. This Violence agrees perfectly with his implacable Character. But one may observe at the same time the mighty Force of Friendship, if for the sake of his dear Patroclus he will protect and secure those Greeks, whose Destruction he wishes. What a little qualities this bloody Wish, is that we may suppose it spoken with great Unreservedness, as in secret, and between Friends.

Mons. de la Motte has a lively Remark upon the Absurdity of this Wish. Upon the Supposition that Jupiter had granted it, if all the Trojans and Greeks were destroy'd, and only Achilles and Patroclus left to conquer Troy, he asks, what would be the Victory without any Enemies, and the Triumph without any Spectators? But the Answer is very obvious; Homer intends to paint a Man in Passion; the Wishes and Schemes of such an one are seldom conformable to Reason; and the Manners are preserv'd the better, the less they are represented to be so.

This brings into my Mind that Curse in Shakespear, where that admirable Master of Nature makes Northumberland, in the Rage of his Passion, wish for an universal Destruction.

------ Now let not Nature's Hand
Keep the wild Flood confin'd! Let Order die,
And let the World no longer be a Stage
To feed Contention in a lingring Act:
But let one Spirit of the first-born Cain
Reign in all Bosoms, that each Heart being set
On bloody Courses, the rude Scene may end,
And Darkness be the Burier of the Dead!
Oh! would to all th'immortal Pow'rs above,

Apollo, Pallas, and almighty Jove!
That not one Trojan might be left alive,
And not a Greek of all the Race survive;
Might only we the vast Destruction shun,
And only we destroy th'accursed Town!
Such Conf'rence held the Chiefs: while on the Strand,
Great Jove with Conquest crown'd the Trojan Band.

Verse 130. Ajax no more, &c.] This Description of Ajax weary'd out with Battel, is a Passage of exquisite Life and Beauty: Yet what I think nobler than the Description itself, is what he says at the end of it, that his Hero even in this Excess of Fatigue and Languor, could scarce be mov'd from his Post by the Efforts of a whole Army. Virgil has copy'd the Description very exactly, Æn. 9.

Ergo nec clypeo juvenis subsistere tantum
Nec dextra valet: injectis sic undique telis
Obruitur. Strepit assiduo cava tempora circum
Tinnitu galea, & saxis solida æra fatiscunt:
Discussæque jubæ capiti, nec sufficit umbo
Ictibus: ingeminant hastis & Troes, & ipse
Fulmineus Mnestheus; tum toto corpore sudor
Liquitur, & piceum, nec respirare potestas,
Flumen agit; fessos quatit æger anhelitus artus.

The Circumstances which I have mark'd in a different Character are Improvements upon Homer, and the last Verse excellently expresses, in the short catching up of the Numbers, the quick, short Panting, represented in the Image. The Reader may add to the Comparison an Imitation of the same Place in Tasso, Canto 9. St. 97.

Fatto intanto hà il Soldan cio, ch'e concesso
Fare a terrena forza, hor piu non puote:
Tutto e sangue e sudore; un grave, e spesso
Anhelar gli ange il petto, e i fianche scote.
Langue sotto lo scudo il brachio oppresso,
Gira la destra il ferro in pigre rote;
Spessa, e non taglia, e divenendo ottuso
Perduto il brando omai di brando hà l'uso.
Ajax no more the sounding Storm sustain'd,

So thick, the Darts an Iron Tempest rain'd:
On his tir'd Arm the weighty Buckler hung;
His hollow Helm with falling Javelins rung;
His Breath, in quick, short Pantings, comes, and goes;
And painful Sweat from all his Members flows.
Spent and o'erpow'r'd, he barely breathes at most;
Yet scarce an Army stirs him from his Post:
Dangers on Dangers all around him grow,
And Toil to Toil, and Woe succeeds to Woe.
Say, Muses, thron'd above the starry Frame,
How first the Navy blaz'd with Trojan Flame?

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Stern Hector wav'd his Sword; and standing near
Where furious Ajax ply'd his Ashen Spear,
Full on the Lance a Stroke so justly sped,
That the broad Faulchion lopp'd its brazen Head:
His pointless Spear the Warrior shakes in vain;
The brazen Head falls sounding on the Plain.

Verse 148.

Great Ajax saw, and own'd the Hand divine,
Confessing Jove, and trembling at the Sign.

]

In the Greek there is added an Explication of this Sign, which has no other Allusion to the Action but a very odd one in a single Phrase, or Metaphor.

------ ο ρα παγχυ μαχης επι μηδεα κειρει
Ζευς υψιβρεμετης, Τρωεσσι δε βουλετο νικην.

Which may be translated,

So seem'd their Hopes cut off by Heav'ns high Lord,
So doom'd to fall before the Trojan Sword.

Chapman endeavours to account for the Meanness of this Conceit, by the gross Wit of Ajax; who seeing the Head of his Lance cut off, took it into his Fancy that Jupiter would in the same manner cut off the Counsels and Schemes of the Greeks. For to understand this far-fetch'd Apprehension gravely, as the Commentators have done, is indeed (to use the Words of Chapman) most dull and Ajantical. I believe no Man will blame me for leaving these Lines out of the Text.

Great Ajax saw, and own'd the Hand divine,

Confessing Jove, and trembling at the Sign;
Warn'd, he retreats. Then swift from all sides pour
The hissing Brands; thick streams the fiery Show'r;
O'er the high Stern the curling Volumes rise,
And Sheets of rolling Smoke involve the Skies.

Verse 154. Achilles view'd the rising Flames.] This Event is prepar'd with a great deal of Art and Probability. That Effect which a Multitude of Speeches was not able to accomplish, one lamentable Spectacle, the Sight of the Flames, at length overcomes, and moves Achilles to Compassion. This it was (say the Ancients) that moved the Tragedians to make visible Representations of Misery; for the Spectators beholding People in unhappy Circumstances, find their Souls more deeply touch'd, than by all the Strains of Rhetorick. Eustathius.

Divine Achilles view'd the rising Flames,

And smote his Thigh, and thus aloud exclaims.
Arm, arm, Patroclus! Lo, the Blaze aspires!
The glowing Ocean reddens with the Fires.
Arm, e'er our Vessels catch the spreading Flame;
Arm, e'er the Grecians be no more a Name;
I haste to bring the Troops.—The Hero said;
The Friend with Ardour and with Joy obey'd.

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Verse 162. He cas'd his Limbs in Brass, &c.] Homer does not amuse himself here to describe these Arms of Achilles at length, for besides that the time permits it not, he reserves this Description for the new Armour which Thetis shall bring that Hero; a Description which will be plac'd in a more quiet Moment, and which will give him all the Leisure of making it, without requiring any Force to introduce it. Eustathius.

He cas'd his Limbs in Brass, and first around,

His manly Legs, with silver Buckles bound
The clasping Greaves; then to his Breast applies
The flamy Cuirass, of a thousand Dyes;
Emblaz'd with Studs of Gold, his Faulchion shone,
In the rich Belt, as in a starry Zone.
Achilles' Shield his ample Shoulders spread,
Achilles' Helmet nodded o'er his Head.
Adorn'd in all his terrible Array,
He flash'd around intolerable Day.

Verse 172. Alone untouch'd Pelides' Javelin stands.] This Passage affords another Instance of the Stupidity of the Commentators, who are here most absurdly inquisitive after the Reasons why Patroclus does not take the Spear, as well as the other Arms of Achilles? He thought himself a very happy Man, who first found out, that Homer had certainly given this Spear to Patroclus, if he had not foreseen that when it should be lost in his future unfortunate Engagement, Vulcan could not furnish Achilles with another; being no Joiner, but only a Smith. Virgil, it seems, was not so precisey acquainted with Vulcan's Disability to profess the two Trades; since he has, without any scruple, employed him in making a Spear, as well as the other Arms for Æneas. Nothing is more obvious than this Thought of Homer, who intended to raise the Idea of his Hero, by giving him such a Spear as no other could wield: The Description of it in this Place is wonderfully pompous.

Alone, untouch'd, Pelides' Javelin stands,

Not to be pois'd but by Pelides' Hands:
From Pelion's shady Brow the Plant entire
Old Chiron rent, and shap'd it for his Sire;
Whose Son's great Arm alone the Weapon wields,
The Death of Heroes, and the dread of Fields.
Then brave Automedon (an honour'd Name,
The second to his Lord in Love and Fame,
In Peace his Friend, and Part'ner of the War)
The winged Coursers harness'd to the Car.

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Xanthus and Balius, of immortal Breed,

Verse 183. Sprung from the Wind.] It is a beautiful Invention of the Poet to represent the wonderful Swiftness of the Horses of Achilles, by saying they were begotten by the western Wind. This Fiction is truly poetical, and very proper in the way of natural Allegory. However, it is not altogether improbable our Author might have design'd it even in the literal Sense: Nor ought the Notion to be thought very extravagant in a Poet, since grave Naturalists have seriously vouched the Truth of this kind of Generation. Some of these relate as an undoubted Piece of natural History, that there was anciently a Breed of this kind of Horses in Portugal, whose Damms were impregnated by a western Wind: Varro, Collumella, and Pliny, are all of this Opinion. I shall only mention the Words of Pliny, Nat. Hist. lib. 8. cap. 42. Constat in Lusitania circa Olyssiponem oppidum, & Tagum amnem, equas Favonio flante obversas animalem concipere spiritum, idque partum fieri & gigni pernicissimum. See also the same Author, l. 4. c. 22. l. 16. c. 25. Possibly Homer had this Opinion in view, which we see has Authority more than sufficient to give it place in Poetry. Virgil has given us a Description of this manner of Conception, Georgic 3.

Continuoque avidis ubi subdita flamma medullis,
Vere magis (quia vere calor redit ossibus) illæ
Ore omnes versæ in Zephyrum, stant rupibus altis,
Exceptantque leves auras: & sæpe sine ullis
Conjugiis, vento gravidæ (mirabile dictu)
Saxa per & scopulos & depressas convalles
Diffugiunt. ------
Sprung from the Wind, and like the Wind in speed;

Whom the wing'd Harpye, swift Podarge, bore,
By Zephyr pregnant on the breezy Shore.

Verse 186. Swift Pedasus was added to their side.] Here was a necessity for a spare Horse (as in another Place Nestor had occasion for the same) that if by any Misfortune one of the other Horses should fall, there might be a fresh one ready at hand to supply his Place. This is good Management in the Poet, to deprive Achilles not only of his Charioteer and his Arms, but of one of his inestimable Horses. Eustathius.

Swift Pedasus was added to their side,

(Once great Aëtion's, now Achilles' Pride)
Who, like in Strength, in Swiftness, and in Grace,
A mortal Courser match'd th'immortal Race.
Achilles speeds from Tent to Tent, and warms
His hardy Myrmidons to Blood and Arms.
All breathing Death, around their Chief they stand,
A grim, terrific, formidable Band:

Verse 194. Grim as voracious Wolves, &c.] There is scarce any Picture in Homer so much in the savage and terrible way, as this Comparison of the Myrmidons to Wolves: It puts one in mind of the Pieces of Spagnolett, or Salvator Rosa: Each Circumstance is made up of Images very strongly colour'd, and horridly lively. The principal Design is to represent the stern Looks and fierce Appearance of the Myrmidons, a gaunt and ghastly Train of raw-bon'd bloody-minded Fellows. But besides this, the Poet seems to have some farther Views in so many different Particulars of the Comparison: Their eager desire of Fight is hinted at by the Wolves thirsting after Water: Their Strength and Vigour for the Battel is intimated by their being fill'd with Food: And as these Beasts are said to have their Thirst sharper after they are gorg'd with Prey; so the Myrmidons are strong and vigorous with Ease and Refreshment, and therefore more ardently desirous of the Combate. This Image of their Strength is inculcated by several Expressions, both in the Simile and the Application, and seems design'd in contraste to the other Greeks, who are all wasted and spent with Toil.

We have a Picture much of this kind given us by Milton, lib. 10. where Death is let loose into the new Creation, to glut his Appetite, and discharge his Rage upon all Nature.

------ As when a Flock
Of rav'nous Fowls, tho' many a League remote,
Against the Day of Battel, to a Field
Where Armies lie encamp'd, come flying, lur'd
With Scent of living Carcasses, design'd
For Death the following Day, in bloody Fight.
So scented the grim Feature, and upturn'd
His Nostril wide into the murky Air,
Sagacious of his Quarry from afar.

And by Tasso, Canto 10. St. 2. of the furious Soldan cover'd with Blood, and thirsting for fresh Slaughter.

Come dal chiuso ovil cacciato viene
Lupo tal' hor, che fugge, e si nasconde;
Che se ben del gran ventre omai ripiene
Ha l'ingorde voragini profonde.
Avido pur di sangue anco fuor tiene
La lingua, e'l sugge da le labbra immonde;
Tal' ei sen già dopo il sanguigno stratio
De la sua cupa fame anco non satio.
Grim as voracious Wolves that seek the Springs

When scalding Thirst their burning Bowels wrings
(When some tall Stag fresh-slaughter'd in the Wood
Has drench'd their wide, insatiate Throats with Blood)
To the black Fount they rush a hideous Throng,
With Paunch distended, and with lolling Tongue,
Fire fills their Eyes, their black Jaws belch the Gore,
And gorg'd with Slaughter, still they thirst for more.

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Like furious, rush'd the Myrmidonian Crew,
Such their dread Strength, and such their deathful View.
High in the midst the great Achilles stands,
Directs their Order, and the War commands.
He, lov'd of Jove, had launch'd for Ilion's Shores
Full fifty Vessels, mann'd with fifty Oars:
Five chosen Leaders the fierce Bands obey,
Himself supreme in Valour, as in Sway.
First march'd Menestheus, of celestial Birth,

Verse 211. Deriv'd from him whose Waters, &c.] Homer seems resolv'd that every thing about Achilles shall be miraculous. We have seen his very Horses are of celestial Origine; and now his Commanders, tho' vulgarly reputed the Sons of Men, are represented as the real Offspring of some Deity. The Poet thus inhances the Admiration of his chief Hero by every Circumstance with which his Imagination could furnish him.

Deriv'd from thee whose Waters wash the Earth,

Divine Sperchius! Jove-descended Flood!
A mortal Mother mixing with a God.
Such was Menestheus, but mis-call'd by Fame
The Son of Borus, that espous'd the Dame.
Eudorus next; whom Polymele the gay,
Fam'd in the graceful Dance, produc'd to Day.
Her, sly Cyllenius lov'd; on her would gaze,
As with swift Step she form'd the running Maze:

Verse 220. To her high Chamber.] It was the Custom of those Times to assign the uppermost Rooms to the Women, that they might be the farther remov'd from Commerce: Wherefore Penelope in the Odysseis mounts up into a Garret, and there sits to her Business. So Priam, in the 16th Book, V. 248. had Chambers for the Ladies of his Court, under the Roof of his Palace.

The Lacedæmonians call'd these high Apartments ωα, and as the word also signifies Eggs, 'tis probable it was this that gave occasion to the Fable of Helen's Birth, who is said to be born from an Egg. Eustathius.

To her high Chamber, from Diana's Quire,

The God pursu'd her, urg'd, and crown'd his Fire.

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The Son confess'd his Father's heav'nly Race,
And heir'd his Mother's Swiftness, in the Chace.
Strong Echeclœus, blest in all those Charms
That pleas'd a God, succeeded to her Arms;
Not conscious of her Love, long hid from Fame,
With Gifts of Price he sought and won the Dame;
Her secret Offspring to her Sire she bare;
Her Sire caress'd him with a Parent's Care.
Pisander follow'd; matchless in his Art
To wing the Spear, or aim the distant Dart;
No Hand so sure of all th'Emathian Line,
Or if a surer, great Patroclus! thine.
The fourth by Phœnix' grave Command was grac'd;
Laerces' valiant Offspring led the last.
Soon as Achilles, with superior Care,
Had call'd the Chiefs, and order'd all the War,
This stern Remembrance to his Troops he gave:
Ye far-fam'd Myrmidons, ye fierce and brave!
Think with what Threats you dar'd the Trojan Throng,
Think what Reproach these Ears endur'd so long,

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“Stern Son of Peleus (thus ye us'd to say,
While restless, raging, in your Ships you lay)
“Oh nurs'd with Gall, unknowing how to yield!
“Whose Rage defrauds us of so fam'd a Field.
“If that dire Fury must for ever burn,
“What make we here? Return, ye Chiefs, return!
Such were your words—Now Warriors grieve no more,
Lo there the Trojans! bath your Swords in Gore!
This Day shall give you all your Soul demands;
Glut all your Hearts! and weary all your Hands!
Thus while he rowz'd the Fire in ev'ry Breast,
Close, and more close, the list'ning Cohorts prest;
Ranks wedg'd in Ranks; of Arms a steely Ring
Still grows, and spreads, and thickens round the King.
As when a circling Wall the Builder forms,
Of Strength defensive against Winds and Storms,
Compacted Stones the thick'ning Work compose,
And round him wide the rising Structure grows.
So Helm to Helm, and Crest to Crest they throng,
Shield urg'd on Shield, and Man drove Man along:

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Thick, undistinguish'd Plumes, together join'd,
Float in one Sea, and wave before the Wind.
Far o'er the rest, in glitt'ring Pomp appear,
There, bold Automedon; Patroclus here;
Brothers in Arms, with equal Fury fir'd;
Two Friends, two Bodies with one Soul inspir'd.
But mindful of the Gods, Achilles went
To the rich Coffer, in his shady Tent:
There lay on Heaps his various Garments roll'd,
And costly Furs, and Carpets stiff with Gold.
(The Presents of the silver-footed Dame)
From thence he took a Bowl, of antique Frame,
Which never Man had stain'd with ruddy Wine,
Nor rais'd in Off'rings to the Pow'rs divine,
But Peleus' Son; and Peleus' Son to none
Had rais'd in Off'rings, but to Jove alone.
This ting'd with Sulphur, sacred first to Flame,
He purg'd; and wash'd it in the running Stream.
Then cleans'd his Hands; and fixing for a Space
His Eyes on Heaven, his Feet upon the Place

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Of Sacrifice, the purple Draught he pour'd

Verse 283. And thus the God implor'd.] Tho' the Character of Achilles every where shews a Mind sway'd with unbounded Passions, and entirely regardless of all human Authority and Law; yet he preserves a constant Respect to the Gods, and appears as zealous in the Sentiments and Actions of Piety as any Hero of the Iliad; who indeed are all remarkable this way. The present Passage is an exact Description and perfect Ritual of the Ceremonies on these Occasions. Achilles, tho' an urgent Affair call'd for his Friend's Assistance, would not yet suffer him to enter the Fight, till in a most solemn manner he had recommended him to the Protection of Jupiter: And this I think a stronger Proof of his Tenderness and Affection for Patroclus, than either the Grief he express'd at his Death, or the Fury he shew'd to revenge it.

Forth in the midst; and thus the God implor'd.

Oh thou Supreme! high-thron'd, all Height above!

Verse 285. Dodonæan Jove.] The frequent mention of Oracles in Homer and the ancient Authors, may make it not improper to give the Reader a general Account of so considerable a part of the Grecian Superstition; which I cannot do better than in the Words of my Friend Mr. Stanyan, in his excellent and judicious Abstract of the Grecian History.

“The Oracles were rank'd among the noblest and most religious kinds of Divination; the Design of them being to settle such an immediate way of Converse with their Gods, as to be able by them not only to explain things intricate and obscure, but also to anticipate the Knowledge of future Events; and that with far greater Certainty than they could hope for from Men, who out of Ignorance and Prejudice must sometimes either conceal or betray the Truth. So that this became the only safe way of deliberating upon Affairs of any Consequence, either publick or private. Whether to proclaim War, or conclude a Peace, to institute a new Form of Government, or enact new Laws, all was to be done with the Advice and Approbation of the Oracle, whose Determinations were always held sacred and inviolable. As to the Causes of Oracles, Jupiter was look'd upon as the first Cause of this, and all other sorts of Divination; he had the Book of Fate before him, and out of that reveal'd either more or less, as he pleas'd, to inferior Dæmons. But to argue more rationally, this way of Access to the Gods has been branded as one of the earliest and grossest Pieces of Priestcraft, that obtain'd in the World. For the Priests, whose Dependance was on the Oracles, when they found the Cheat had got sufficient footing, allow'd no Man to consult the Gods without costly Sacrifices and rich Presents to themselves: And as few could bear this Expence, it serv'd to raise their Credit among the common People, by keeping them at an awful distance. And to heighten their Esteem with the better and wealthier sort, even they were only admitted upon a few stated Days: By which the thing appear'd still more mysterious, and for want of this good Management, must quickly have been seen through, and fell to the Ground. But whatever juggling there was as to the religious Part, Oracles had certainly a good Effect as to the Publick; being admirably suited to the Genius of a People, who would join in the most desperate Expedition, and admit of any Change of Government, when they understood by the Oracle it was the irresistible Will of the Gods. This was the Method Minos, Lycurgus, and all the famous Lawgivers took; and indeed they found the People so entirely devoted to this Part of Religion, that it was generally the easiest, and sometimes the only way of winning them into a Compliance. And then they took care to have them deliver'd in such ambiguous Terms, as to admit of different Constructions according to the Exigency of the Times; so that they were generally interpreted to the Advantage of the State, unless sometimes there happen'd to be Bribery, or Flattery in the Case; as when Demosthenes complain'd that the Pythia spoke as Philip would have her. The most numerous, and of greatest Repute were the Oracles of Apollo, who in Subordination to Jupiter, was appointed to preside over, and inspire all sorts of Prophets and Diviners. And amongst these, the Delphian challeng'd the first Place, not so much in respect of its Antiquity, as its Perspicuity and Certainty; insomuch that the Answers of the Tripos came to be used proverbially for clear and infallible Truths. Here we must not omit the first Pythia or Priestess of this famous Oracle in heroic Verse. They found a secret Charm in Numbers, which made every thing look pompous and weighty. And hence it became the general Practice of Legislators, and Philosophers, to deliver their Laws and Maxims in that Dress: And scarce any thing in those Ages was writ of Excellence or Moment but in Verse. This was the Dawn of Poetry, which soon grew into Repute; and so long as it serv'd to such noble Purposes as Religion and Government, Poets were highly honour'd, and admitted into a Share of the Administration. But by that time it arriv'd to any Perfection, they pursu'd more mean and servile Ends; and as they prostituted their Muse, and debased the Subject, they sunk proportionably in their Esteem and Dignity. As to the History of Oracles, we find them mention'd in the very Infancy of Greece; and it is as uncertain when they were finally extinct, as when they began. For they often lost their prophetick Faculty for some time, and recover'd it again. I know 'tis a common Opinion, that they were universally silenc'd upon our Saviour's Appearance in the World: And if the Devil had been permitted for so many Ages to delude Mankind, it might probably have been so. But we are assur'd from History, that several of them continu'd till the Reign of Julian the Apostate, and were consulted by him: And therefore I look upon the whole Business as of human Contrivance; an egregious Imposture founded upon Superstition, and carry'd on by Policy and Interest, till the brighter Oracles of the holy Scriptures dispell'd these Mists of Error and Enthusiasm.”

Verse 285. Pelasgic, Dodonæan Jove.] Achilles invokes Jupiter with these particular Appellations, and represents to him the Services perform'd by these Priests and Prophets, making these Honours paid in his own Country, his Claim for the Protection of the Deity. Jupiter was look'd upon as the first Cause of all Divination and Oracles, from whence he had the Appellation of πανομφαιος, Il. 8. V. 250. The first Oracle of Dodona was founded by the Pelasgi, the most ancient of all the Inhabitants of Greece, which is confirm'd by this Verse of Hesiod, preserv'd by the Scholiast on Sophocles Trachin.

Δωδωνην, φηγον τε Πελασγων εδρανον ηκεν.

The Oaks of this Place were said to be endu'd with Voice, and prophetic Spirit; the Priests who gave Answers concealing themselves in these Trees; a Practice which the pious Frauds of succeeding Ages have render'd not improbable.

Oh Great! Pelasgic, Dodonæan Jove!

Who 'midst surrounding Frosts, and Vapours chill,
Preside on bleak Dodona's vocal Hill:

Verse 288. Whose Groves the Selli, Race austere! &c.] Homer seems to me to say clearly enough, that these Priests lay on the Ground and forbore the Bath, to honour by these Austerities the God they serv'd; for he says, σοι ναιουσι ανιττοποδες: and this σοι can in my Opinion only signify for you, that is to say, to please you, and for your Honour. This Example is remarkable, but I do not think it singular; and the earliest Antiquity may furnish us with the like of Pagans, who by an austere Life try'd to please their Gods. Nevertheless I am obliged to say, that Strabo, who speaks very much at length of these Selli in his 7th Book, has not taken this Austerity of Life for an Effect of their Devotion, but for a Remain of the Grossness of their Ancestors; who being Barbarians, and straying from Country to Country, had no Bed but the Earth, and never used a Bath. But it is no way unlikely that what was in the first Pelasgians (who founded this Oracle) only Custom and Use, might be continu'd by these Priests thro' Devotion. How many things do we at this Day see, which were in their Original only ancient Manner, and which are continu'd thro' Zeal and a Spirit of Religion? It is very probable that these Priests by this hard living had a mind to attract the Admiration and Confidence of a People who lov'd Luxury and Delicacy so much. I was willing to search into Antiquity for the Original of these Selli, Priests of Jupiter, but found nothing so ancient as Homer: Herodotus writes in his second Book, that the Oracle of Dodona was the ancientest in Greece, and that it was a long time the only one; but what he adds, that it was founded by an Egyptian Woman, who was the Priestess of it, is contradicted by this Passage of Homer, who shews, that in the time of the Trojan War this Temple was serv'd by Men call'd Selli, and not by Women. Strabo informs us of a curious ancient Tradition, importing, that this Temple was at first built in Thessaly, that from thence it was carry'd into Dodona, that several Women who had plac'd their Devotion there follow'd it, and that in Process of Time the Priestesses used to be chosen from among the Descendents of those Women. To return to these Selli; Sophocles, who of all the Greek Poets is he who has most imitated Homer, speaks in like manner of these Priests in one of his Plays, where Hercules says to his Son Hillus; “I will declare to thee a new Oracle, which perfectly agrees with this ancient one; I my self having enter'd into the sacred Wood inhabited by the austere Selli, who lie on the Ground, writ this Answer of the Oak, which is consecrated to my Father Jupiter, and which renders his Oracles in all Languages.” Dacier.

Verse 288.] Homer in this Verse uses a word which I think singular and remarkable, υποφηται: I cannot believe that it was put simply for προφηται, but am persuaded that this Term includes some particular Sense, and shews some Custom but little known, which I would willingly discover. In the Scholia of Didymus there is this Remark: “They call'd those who serv'd in the Temple, and who explain'd the Oracles render'd by the Priests, Hypothets, or Under-Prophets.” It is certain that there were in the Temples Servitors, or Subaltern Ministers, who for the sake of Gain, undertook to explain the Oracles which were obscure. This Custom seems very well establish'd in the Ion of Euripides; where that young Child (after having said that the Priestess is seated on the Tripod, and renders the Oracles which Apollo dictates to her) addresses himself to those who serve in the Temple, and bids them go and wash in the Castalian Fountain, to come again into the Temple and explain the Oracles to those who should demand the Explication of them. Homer therefore means to shew, that these Selli were, in the Temple of Dodona, those Subaltern Ministers that interpreted the Oracles. But this, after all, does not appear to agree with the present Passage: For, besides that the Custom was not establish'd in Homer's Time, and that there is no Footstep of it founded in that early Age; these Selli (of whom Homer speaks) are not here Ministers subordinate to others, they are plainly the chief Priests. The Explication of this word therefore must be elsewhere sought, and I shall offer my Conjecture, which I ground upon the very Nature of this Oracle of Dodona, which was very different from all the other Oracles: In all other Temples the Priests deliver'd the Oracle which they had receiv'd from their Gods, immediately: But in the Temple of Dodona, Jupiter did not utter his Oracles to his Priests, but to his Selli; he render'd them to the Oaks, and the wonderful Oaks render'd them to the Priests, who declared them to those who consulted them: So these Priests were not properly προφηται, Prophets, since they did not receive those Answers from the Mouth of their God immediately; but they were υποφηται, Under-Prophets, because they receiv'd them from the Mouth of the Oaks, if I may say so. The Oaks, properly speaking, were the Prophets, the first Interpreters of Jupiter's Oracles; and the Selli were υποφηται, Under-Prophets, because they pronounc'd what the Oaks had said. Thus Homer in one single word includes a very curious Piece of Antiquity. Dacier.

(Whose Groves, the Selli, Race austere! surround,

Their Feet unwash'd, their Slumbers on the Ground;
Who hear, from rustling Oaks, their dark Decrees;
And catch the Fates, low-whisper'd in the Breeze.)
Hear, as of old! Thou gav'st, at Thetis Pray'r,
Glory to me, and to the Greeks Despair:
Lo to the Dangers of the fighting Field
The best, the dearest of my Friends, I yield:
Tho' still determin'd, to my Ships confin'd,
Patroclus gone, I stay but half behind.
Oh! be his Guard thy providential Care,
Confirm his Heart, and string his Arm to War:
Press'd by his single Force, let Hector see,
His Fame in Arms, not owing all to me.

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But when the Fleets are sav'd from Foes and Fire,
Let him with Conquest and Renown retire;
Preserve his Arms, preserve his social Train,
And safe return him to these Eyes again!

Verse 306. Great Jove agrees to half.] Virgil has finely imitated this in his 11th Æneid.

Audiit, & voti Phœbus succedere partem
Mente dedit; partem volucres dispersit in auras.
Sterneret ut subitâ turbatam morte Camillam
Annuit oranti; reducem ut patria alta videret
Non dedit, inque notos vocem vertêre procellæ.
Great Jove consents to half the Chief's Request,

But Heav'ns eternal Doom denies the rest;
To free the Fleet was granted to his Pray'r;
His safe Return, the Winds dispers'd in Air.
Back to his Tent the stern Achilles flies,
And waits the Combate with impatient Eyes.
Meanwhile the Troops beneath Patroclus' Care,
Invade the Trojans, and commence the War.

Verse 314. As Wasps, provok'd, &c.] One may observe, that tho' Homer sometimes takes his Similitudes from the meanest and smallest things in Nature, yet he orders it so as by their Appearance to signalize and give Lustre to his greatest Heroes. Here he likens a Body of Myrmidons to a Nest of Wasps, not on account of their Strength and Bravery, but of their Heart and Resentment. Virgil has imitated these humble Comparisons, as when he compares the Builders of Carthage to Bees. Homer has carry'd it a little farther in another Place, where he compares the Soldiers to Flies, for their busy Industry and Perseverance about a dead Body; not diminishing his Heroes by the Size of these small Animals, but raising his Comparisons from certain Properties inherent in them, which deserve our Observation. Eustathius.

This brings into my Mind a pretty rural Simile in Spencer, which is very much in the Simplicity of the old Father of Poetry.

As gentle Shepherd in sweet Even-tide,
When ruddy Phœbus 'gins to welke in West,
High on a Hill, his Flock to viewen wide,
Marks which do bite their hasty Supper best;
A Cloud of cumb'rous Gnats do him molest,
All striving to infix their feeble Stings,
That from their Noyance he no whit can rest,
But with his clownish Hand their tender Wings
He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their Murmurings.
As Wasps, provok'd by Children in their Play,

Pour from their Mansions by the broad High-way,
In Swarms the guiltless Traveller engage,
Whet all their Stings, and call forth all their Rage;
All rise in Arms, and with a gen'ral Cry
Assert their waxen Domes, and buzzing Progeny.
Thus from the Tents the fervent Legion swarms,
So loud their Clamours, and so keen their Arms.

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Their rising Rage Patroclus' Breath inspires,
Who thus inflames them with heroick Fires.
Oh Warriors, Part'ners of Achilles' Praise!
Be mindful of your Deeds in ancient Days:
Your godlike Master let your Acts proclaim,
And add new Glories to his mighty Name.
Think, your Achilles sees your fight: Be brave,
And humble the proud Monarch whom you save.
Joyful they heard, and kindling as he spoke
Flew to the Fleet, involv'd in Fire and Smoke.
From Shore to Shore the doubling Shouts resound,
The hollow Ships return a deeper Sound.
The War stood still, and all around them gaz'd,
When great Achilles' shining Armour blaz'd:
Troy saw, and thought the dread Achilles nigh,
At once they see, they tremble, and they fly.
Then first thy Spear, divine Patroclus! flew,
Where the War rag'd, and where the Tumult grew.
Close to the Stern of that fam'd Ship, which bore
Unblest Protesilaus to Ilion's Shore,

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The great Pæonian, bold Pyrechmes, stood;
(Who led his Bands from Axius' winding Flood)
His Shoulder-blade receives the fatal Wound;
The groaning Warrior pants upon the Ground.
His Troops, that see their Country's Glory slain,
Fly diverse, scatter'd o'er the distant Plain.
Patroclus' Arm forbids the spreading Fires,
And from the half-burn'd Ship proud Troy retires:
Clear'd from the Smoke the joyful Navy lies;
In Heaps on Heaps the Foe tumultuous flies,
Triumphant Greece her rescu'd Decks ascends,
And loud Acclaim the starry Region rends.

Verse 354. So when thick Clouds, &c.] All the Commentators take this Comparison in a Sense different from that in which it is here translated. They suppose Jupiter is here described cleaving the Air with a Flash of Lightning, and spreading a Gleam of Light over a high Mountain, which a black Cloud held bury'd in Darkness. The Application is made to Patroclus falling on the Trojans, and giving Respite to the Greeks, who were plung'd in Obscurity. Eustathius gives this Interpretation, but at the same time acknowledges it improper in this Comparison to represent the Extinction of the Flames by the darting of Lightning. This Explanation is founded solely on the Expression στεροπηγερετα Ζευς, fulgurator Jupiter, which Epithet is often applied when no such Action is supposed. The most obvious Signification of the Words in this Passage, gives a more natural and agreeable Image, and admits of a juster Application. The Simile therefore seems to be of Jupiter dispersing a black Cloud which had cover'd a high Mountain, whereby a beautiful Prospect, which was before hid in Darkness, suddenly appears. This is applicable to the present State of the Greeks, after Patroclus had extinguish'd the Flames, which began to spread. Clouds of Smoak over the Fleet. It is Homer's Design in his Comparisons to apply them to the most obvious and sensible Image of the thing to be illustrated; which his Commentators too frequently endeavour to hide by moral and allegorical Refinements; and thus injure the Poet more, by attributing to him what does not belong to him, than by refusing him what is really his own.

It is much the same Image with that of Milton in his second Book, tho' apply'd in a very different way.

As when from Mountain tops the dusky Clouds
Ascending, while the North Wind sleeps, o'erspread
Heav'ns chearful Face; the low'ring Element
Scowls o'er the darkned Landskip Snow or Show'r;
If chance the radiant Sun with farewell sweet
Extend his Evening Beam, the Fields revive,
The Birds their Notes renew, the bleating Herds
Attest their Joy, that Hill and Vally rings.
So when thick Clouds inwrap the Mountain's Head,

O'er Heav'ns Expanse like one black Cieling spread;
Sudden, the Thund'rer, with a flashing Ray,
Bursts thro' the Darkness, and lets down the Day:
The Hills shine out, the Rocks in Prospect rise,
And Streams, and Vales, and Forests strike the Eyes,
The smiling Scene wide opens to the Sight,
And all th'unmeasur'd Æther flames with Light.

1226

But Troy repuls'd, and scatter'd o'er the Plains,
Forc'd from the Navy, yet the Fight maintains.
Now ev'ry Greek some hostile Hero slew,
But still the foremost bold Patroclus flew:
As Areïlycus had turn'd him round,
Sharp in his Thigh he felt the piercing Wound;
The brazen-pointed Spear, with Vigour thrown,
The Thigh transfix'd, and broke the brittle Bone:
Headlong he fell. Next Thoas was thy Chance,
Thy Breast, unarm'd, receiv'd the Spartan Lance.
Phylides' Dart, (as Amphiclus drew nigh)
His Blow prevented, and transpierc'd his Thigh,
Tore all the Brawn, and rent the Nerves away:
In Darkness, and in Death, the Warrior lay.
In equal Arms two Sons of Nestor stand,
And two bold Brothers of the Lycian Band:
By great Antilochus, Atymnius dies,
Pierc'd in the Flank, lamented Youth! he lies.
Kind Maris, bleeding in his Brother's Wound,
Defends the breathless Carcase on the Ground;

1227

Furious he flies, his Murd'rer to engage,
But godlike Thrasimed prevents his Rage,
Between his Arm and Shoulder aims a Blow,
His Arm falls spouting on the Dust below:
He sinks, with endless Darkness cover'd o'er,
And vents his Soul effus'd with gushing Gore.
Slain by two Brothers, thus two Brothers bleed,
Sarpedon's Friends, Amisodarus' Seed;

Verse 390. Amisodarus, who, &c.] Amisodarus was King of Caria; Bellerophon marry'd his Daughter. The Ancients guess'd from this Passage that the Chimæra was not a Fiction, since Homer marks the Time wherein she liv'd, and the Prince with whom she liv'd; they thought it was some Beast of that Prince's Herds, who being grown furious and mad, had done a great deal of Mischief, like the Calydonian Boar. Eustathius.

Amisodarus, who by Furies led,

The Bane of Men, abhorr'd Chimæra bred;
Skill'd in the Dart in vain, his Sons expire,
And pay the Forfeit of their guilty Sire.
Stopp'd in the Tumult Cleobulus lies,
Beneath Oïleus' Arm, a living Prize;
A living Prize not long the Trojan stood;
The thirsty Faulchion drank his reeking Blood:
Plung'd in his Throat the smoaking Weapon lies;
Black Death, and Fate unpitying, seal his Eyes.
Amid the Ranks, with mutual Thirst of Fame,
Lycon the brave, and fierce Peneleus came;

1228

In vain their Javelins at each other flew,
Now, met in Arms, their eager Swords they drew.
On the plum'd Crest of his Bœotian Foe,
The daring Lycon aim'd a noble Blow;
The Sword broke short; but his, Peneleus sped
Full on the Juncture of the Neck and Head:
The Head, divided by a Stroke so just,
Hung by the Skin: the Body sunk to Dust.
O'ertaken Neamas by Merion bleeds;
Pierc'd thro' the Shoulder as he mounts his Steeds;
Back from the Car he tumbles to the Ground;
His swimming Eyes eternal Shades surround.
Next Erymas was doom'd his Fate to feel,
His open'd Mouth receiv'd the Cretan Steel:
Beneath the Brain the Point a Passage tore,
Crash'd the thin Bones, and drown'd the Teeth in Gore:
His Mouth, his Eyes, his Nostrils pour a Flood;
He sobs his Soul out in the Gush of Blood.
As when the Flocks, neglected by the Swain
(Or Kids, or Lambs) lie scatter'd o'er the Plain,

1229

A Troop of Wolves th'unguarded Charge survey,
And rend the trembling, unresisting Prey.
Thus on the Foe the Greeks impetuous came;
Troy fled, unmindful of her former Fame.
But still at Hector godlike Ajax aim'd,
Still, pointed at his Breast, his Javelin flam'd:
The Trojan Chief, experienc'd in the Field,
O'er his broad Shoulders spread the massy Shield;
Observ'd the Storm of Darts the Grecians pour,
And on his Buckler caught the ringing Show'r.
He sees for Greece the Scale of Conquest rise,

Verse 433. Yet stops, and turns, and saves his lov'd Allies.] Homer represents Hector, as he retires, making a stand from time to time, to save his Troops: And he expresses it by this single word ανεμιμνε; for αναμιμνειν does not only signify to stay, but likewise in retiring to stop from time to time; for this is the Power of the Preposition ανα, as in the word αναμαχεσθαι, which signifies to fight by fits and starts; αναπαλαιειν, to wrestle several times, and in many others. Eustathius.

Yet stops, and turns, and saves his lov'd Allies.

As when the Hand of Jove a Tempest forms,
And rolls the Cloud to blacken Heav'n with Storms,
Dark o'er the Fields th'ascending Vapour flies,
And shades the Sun, and blots the golden Skies:
So from the Ships, along the dusky Plain,
Dire Flight and Terror drove the Trojan Train.
Ev'n Hector fled; thro' Heaps of Disarray
The fiery Coursers forc'd their Lord away:

1230

While far behind, his Trojans fall confus'd,
Wedg'd in the Trench, in one vast Carnage bruis'd.
Chariots on Chariots rowl; the clashing Spokes
Shock; while the madding Steeds break short their Yokes:
In vain they labour up the steepy Mound;
Their Charioteers lie foaming on the Ground.
Fierce on the Rear, with Shouts, Patroclus flies;
Tumultuous Clamour fills the Fields and Skies;
Thick Drifts of Dust involve their rapid Flight,
Clouds rise on Clouds, and Heav'n is snatch'd from sight.
Th'affrighted Steeds, their dying Lords cast down,
Scour o'er the Fields, and stretch to reach the Town.
Loud o'er the Rout was heard the Victor's Cry,
Where the War bleeds, and where the thickest die.
Where Horse and Arms, and Chariots lie o'erthrown,
And bleeding Heroes under Axles groan.
No Stop, no Check, the Steeds of Peleus knew;

Verse 459. From Bank to Bank th'immortal Coursers flew, &c.] Homer has made of Hector's Horses all that Poetry could make of common and mortal Horses; they stand on the Bank of the Ditch foaming and neighing for Madness that they cannot leap it. But the immortal Horses of Achilles find no Obstacle; they leap the Ditch, and fly into the Plain. Eustathius.

From Bank to Bank th'immortal Coursers flew,

High-bounding o'er the Fosse: the whirling Car
Smoaks thro' the Ranks, o'ertakes the flying War,

1231

And thunders after Hector; Hector flies,
Patroclus shakes his Lance; but Fate denies.
Not with less Noise, with less impetuous force,
The Tyde of Trojans urge their desp'rate Course,

Verse 466.

As when in Autumn Jove his Fury pours------

When guilty Mortals

, &c.]

The Poet in this Image of an Inundation, takes occasion to mention a Sentiment of great Piety, that such Calamities were the Effects of divine Justice punishing the Sins of Mankind. This might probably refer to the Tradition of an universal Deluge, which was very common among the ancient heathen Writers; most of them ascribing the Cause of this Deluge to the Wrath of Heaven provoked by the Wickedness of Men. Diodorus Siculus, l. 15. c. 5. speaking of an Earthquake and Inundation, which destroyed a great part of Greece in the 101st Olympiad, has these Words. There was a great Dispute concerning the Cause of this Calamity: The Natural Philosophers generally ascribed such Events to necessary Causes, not to any divine Hand: But they who had more devout Sentiments gave a more probable Account hereof; asserting, that it was the divine Vengeance alone that brought this Destruction upon Men who had offended the Gods with their Impiety. And then proceeds to give an Account of those Crimes which drew down this Punishment upon them.

This is one, among a thousand Instances, of Homer's indirect and oblique manner of introducing moral Sentences and Instructions. These agreeably break in upon his Reader even in Descriptions and poetical Parts, where one naturally expects only Painting and Amusement. We have Virtue put upon us by Surprize, and are pleas'd to find a thing where we should never have look'd to meet with it. I must do a noble English Poet the justice to observe, that it is this particular Art that is the very distinguishing Excellence of Cooper's-Hill; throughout which, the Descriptions of Places, and Images rais'd by the Poet, are still tending to some Hint, or leading into some Reflection, upon moral Life or political Institution: Much in the same manner as the real Sight of such Scenes and Prospects is apt to give the Mind a compos'd Turn, and incline it to Thoughts and Contemplations that have a Relation to the Object.

Than when in Autumn Jove his Fury pours,

And Earth is loaden with incessant Show'rs,
(When guilty Mortals break th'eternal Laws,
And Judges brib'd, betray the righteous Cause)
From their deep Beds he bids the Rivers rise,
And opens all the Floodgates of the Skies:
Th'impetuous Torrents from their Hills obey,
Whole Fields are drown'd, and Mountains swept away;
Loud roars the Deluge till it meets the Main;
And trembling Man sees all his Labours vain!
And now the Chief (the foremost Troops repell'd)
Back to the Ships his destin'd Progress held,
Bore down half Troy, in his resistless way,
And forc'd the routed Ranks to stand the Day.

Verse 480.

Between the Space where silver Simois flows,
Where lay the Ships, and where the Rampires rose.

] It looks at first Sight as if Patroclus was very punctual in obeying the Orders of Achilles, when he hinders the Trojans from ascending to their Town, and holds an Engagement with 'em between the Ships, the River, and the Wall. But he seems afterwards from very haste to have slipt his Commands, for his Orders were that he should drive 'em from the Ships, and then presently return; but he proceeds farther, and his Death is the Consequence. Eustathius.

Between the Space where silver Simois flows,

Where lay the Fleets, and where the Rampires rose,

1232

All grim in Dust and Blood, Patroclus stands,
And turns the Slaughter on the conqu'ring Bands.
First Pronous dy'd beneath his fiery Dart,
Which pierc'd below the Shield his valiant Heart.
Thestor was next; who saw the Chief appear,
And fell the Victim of his coward Fear;
Shrunk up he sate, with wild and haggard Eye,
Nor stood to combate, nor had Force to fly:
Patroclus mark'd him as he shunn'd the War,
And with unmanly Tremblings shook the Car,
And dropp'd the flowing Reins. Him 'twixt the Jaws
The Javelin sticks, and from the Chariot draws:
As on a Rock that overhangs the Main,
An Angler, studious of the Line and Cane,
Some mighty Fish draws panting to the Shore;
Not with less ease the barbed Javelin bore
The gaping Dastard: As the Spear was shook;
He fell, and Life his heartless Breast forsook.
Next on Eryalus he flies; a Stone
Large as a Rock, was by his Fury thrown.

1233

Full on his Crown the pond'rous Fragment flew,
And burst the Helm, and cleft the Head in two:
Prone to the Ground the breathless Warrior fell,
And Death involv'd him with the Shades of Hell.
Then low in Dust Epaltes, Echius, lie;
Ipheas, Evippus, Polymelus, die;
Amphoterus, and Erymas succeed,
And last, Tlepolemus and Pyres bleed.
Where'er he moves, the growing Slaughters spread
In Heaps on Heaps; a Monument of Dead.

Verse 512. When now Sarpedon , &c.] The Poet preparing to recount the Death of Sarpedon, it will not be improper to give a Sketch of some Particulars which constitute a Character the most faultless and amiable in the whole Iliad. This Hero is by Birth superior to all the Chiefs of either side, being the only Son of Jupiter engaged in this War. His Qualities are no way unworthy his Descent, since he every where appears equal in Valour, Prudence, and Eloquence, to the most admired Heroes: Nor are these Excellences blemish'd with any of those Defects with which the most distinguishing Characters of the Poem are stain'd. So that the nicest Criticks cannot find any thing to offend their Delicacy, but must be obliged to own the Manners of this Hero perfect. His Valour is neither rash nor boisterous; his Prudence neither timorous nor tricking; and his Eloquence neither talkative nor boasting. He never reproaches the living, or insults the dead: but appears uniform thro' his Conduct in the War, acted with the same generous Sentiments that engaged him in it, having no Interest in the Quarrel but to succour his Allies in Distress. This noble Life is ended with a Death as glorious; for in his last Moments he has no other Concern, but for the Honour of his Friends, and the Event of the Day.

Homer justly represents such a Character to be attended with universal Esteem: As he was greatly honour'd when living, he is as much lamented when dead, as the chief Prop of Troy. The Poet by his Death, even before that of Hector, prepares us to expect the Destruction of that Town, when its two great Defenders are no more: and in order to make it the more signal and remarkable, it is the only Death in the Iliad attended with Prodigies: Even his Funeral is perform'd by divine Assistance, he being the only Hero whose Body is carried back to be interr'd in his native Country, and honour'd with Monuments erected to his Fame. These peculiar and distinguishing Honours seem appropriated by our Author to him alone, as the Reward of a Merit superior to all his other less perfect Heroes.

When now Sarpedon his brave Friends beheld

Grov'ling in Dust, and gasping on the Field,
With this Reproach his flying Host he warms,
Oh Stain to Honour! oh Disgrace to Arms!
Forsake, inglorious, the contended Plain;
This Hand, unaided, shall the War sustain:
The Task be mine this Hero's Strength to try,
Who mows whole Troops, and makes an Army fly.
He spake; and speaking, leaps from off the Car;
Patroclus lights, and sternly waits the War.

1234

Verse 522. As when two Vulturs.] Homer compares Patroclus and Sarpedon to two Vulturs, because they appear'd to be of equal Strength and Abilities, when they had dismounted from their Chariots. For this reason he has chosen to compare them to Birds of the same kind; as on another occasion, to image the like Equality of Strength, he resembles both Hector and Patroclus to Lions: But a little after this Place, diminishing the Force of Sarpedon, he compares him to a Bull, and Patroclus to a Lion. He has placed these Vulturs upon a high Rock, because it is their Nature to perch there, rather than in the Boughs of Trees. Their crooked Talons make them unfit to walk on the Ground, they could not fight steadily in the Air, and therefore their fittest Place is the Rock. Eustathius.

As when two Vulturs on the Mountain's Height

Stoop with re-sounding Pinions to the Fight;
They cuff, they tear, they raise a screaming Cry;
The Desert echoes, and the Rocks reply:
The Warriors thus oppos'd in Arms, engage
With equal Clamours, and with equal Rage,
Jove view'd the Combate, whose Event foreseen,
He thus bespoke his Sister and his Queen.
The Hour draws on; the Destinies ordain,
My godlike Son shall press the Phrygian Plain:
Already on the Verge of Death he stands,
His Life is ow'd to fierce Patroclus' Hands.
What Passions in a Parent's Breast debate!

Verse 535. Say, shall I snatch him from impending Fate.] It appears by this Passage, that Homer was of Opinion, that the Power of God could over-rule Fate or Destiny. It has puzzled many to distinguish exactly the Notion of the Heathens as to this Point. Mr. Dryden contends that Jupiter was limited by the Destinies, or (to use his Expression) was no better than Book-Keeper to them. He grounds it upon a Passage in the tenth Book of Virgil, where Jupiter mentions this Instance of Sarpedon as a Proof of his yielding to the Fates. But both that and his Citation from Ovid, amounts to no more than that Jupiter gave way to Destiny, not that he could not prevent it; the contrary to which is plain from his Doubt and Deliberation in this Place. And indeed whatever may be inferr'd of other Poets, Homer's Opinion at least, as to the Dispensations of God to Man, has ever seem'd to me very clear, and distinctly agreeable to Truth. We shall find, if we examine his whole Works with an Eye to this Doctrine, that he assigns three Causes of all the Good and Evil that happens in this World, which he takes a particular Care to distinguish. First the Will of God, superior to all.

------ Διος δ' ετελειετο βουλη.
Il. 1. ------ Θεος δια παντα τελευτα.
Il. 19. V. 90. Ζευς αγαθον τε κακον τε διδοι,—&c.

Secondly, Destiny or Fate, meaning the Laws and Order of Nature affecting the Constitutions of Men, and disposing them to Good or Evil, Prosperity or Misfortune; which the supreme Being, if it be his Pleasure, may over-rule (as he is inclin'd to do in this Place) but which he generally suffers to take effect. Thirdly, our own Free-will, which either by Prudence overcomes those natural Influences and Passions, or by Folly suffers us to fall under them. Odyss. 1. V. 32.

Ω ποποι, οιον δη νυ Θεους βροτοι απιοωνται.
Εξ ημεων γαρ φασι κακ' εμμεναι: οι δε και αυτοι
Σφησιν ατασθαλιησιν υπερ μορον αλγε' εχουσιν.
Why charge Mankind on Heav'n their own Offence,
And call their Woes the Crime of Providence?
Blind! who themselves their Miseries create,
And perish, by their Folly, not their Fate.
Say, shall I snatch him from impending Fate,

And send him safe to Lycia, distant far
From all the Dangers and the Toils of War;
Or to his Doom my bravest Offspring yield,
And fatten, with celestial Blood, the Field?
Then thus the Goddess with the radiant Eyes:
What Words are these, O Sov'reign of the Skies?

1235

Short is the Date prescrib'd to mortal Man;
Shall Jove, for one, extend the narrow Span,
Whose Bounds were fix'd before his Race began?
How many Sons of Gods, foredoom'd to Death,
Before proud Ilion, must resign their Breath!
Were thine exempt, Debate would rise above,
And murm'ring Pow'rs condemn their partial Jove.
Give the bold Chief a glorious Fate in fight;
And when th'ascending Soul has wing'd her flight,

Verse 551.

Let Sleep and Death convey, by thy Command,
The breathless Body to his native Land.

] The History or Fable received in Homer's Time imported, that Sarpedon was interr'd in Lycia, but it said nothing of his Death. This gave the Poet the Liberty of making him die at Troy, provided that after his Death he was carry'd into Lycia, to preserve the Fable. The Expedient propos'd by Juno solves all; Sarpedon dies at Troy, and is interr'd at Lycia; and what renders this probable, is, that in those Times, as at this Day, Princes and Persons of Quality who dy'd in foreign Parts, were carry'd into their own Country to be laid in the Tombs of their Fathers. The Antiquity of this Custom cannot be doubted, since it was practis'd in the Patriarch's Times: Jacob dying in Egypt, orders his Children to carry him into the Land of Canaan, where he desir'd to be bury'd. Gen. 49. 29. Dacier.

Let Sleep and Death convey, by thy Command,

The breathless Body to his native Land.
His Friends and People, to his future Praise,
A marble Tomb and Pyramid shall raise,
And lasting Honours to his Ashes give;
His Fame ('tis all the Dead can have!) shall live.
She said; the Cloud-compeller overcome,
Assents to Fate, and ratifies the Doom.
Then, touch'd with Grief, the weeping Heav'ns distill'd

Verse 560. A Show'r of Blood.] As to Showers of a bloody Colour, many both ancient and modern Naturalists agree in asserting the Reality of such Appearances, tho' they account for 'em differently. You may see a very odd Solution of 'em in Eustathius, Note 7 on the 11th Iliad. What seems the most probable, is that of Fromondus in his Meteorology, who observ'd, that a Shower of this kind, which gave great Cause of Wonder, was nothing but a Quantity of very small red Insects, beat down to the Earth by a heavy Shower, whereby the Ground was spotted in several Places, as with Drops of Blood.

A Show'r of Blood o'er all the fatal Field.


1236

The God, his Eyes averting from the Plain,
Laments his Son, predestin'd to be slain,
Far from the Lycian Shores, his happy native Reign.
Now met in Arms, the Combatants appear,
Each heav'd the Shield, and pois'd the lifted Spear:
From strong Patroclus' Hand the Javelin fled,
And pass'd the Groin of valiant Thrasymed,
The Nerves unbrac'd no more his Bulk sustain,
He falls, and falling bites the bloody Plain.
Two sounding Darts the Lycian Leader threw;
The first aloof with erring Fury flew,

Verse 572.

------Achilles' mortal Steed,
The gen'rous Pedasus------.

] For the other two Horses of Achilles, Xanthus and Balius, were immortal, as we have already seen in this Book. 'Tis a merry Conceit of Eustathius, that Pedasus is only said to be mortal, because of the three Horses he only was a Gelding. 'Tis pity poor Pedasus had not a better Fate, to have recompensed the Loss of his Immortality.

The next transpierc'd Achilles' mortal Steed,

The gen'rous Pedasus, of Theban Breed;
Fix'd in the Shoulders Joint, he reel'd around;
Rowl'd in the bloody dust, and paw'd the slip'ry ground.
His sudden Fall th'entangled Harness broke;
Each Axle crackled, and the Chariot shook:
When bold Automedon, to disengage
The starting Coursers, and restrain their Rage,

1237

Divides the Traces with his Sword, and freed
Th'incumber'd Chariot from the dying Steed:
The rest move on, obedient to the Rein;
The Car rowls slowly o'er the dusty Plain.
The tow'ring Chiefs to fiercer Fight advance,
And first Sarpedon whirl'd his weighty Lance,
Which o'er the Warrior's Shoulder took its course,
And spent in empty Air its dying Force.
Not so Patroclus' never erring Dart;
Aim'd at his Breast, it pierc'd the mortal Part
Where the strong Fibres bind the solid Heart.
Then, as the Mountain Oak, or Poplar tall,
Or Pine (fit Mast for some great Admiral)
Nods to the Axe, till with a groaning Sound
It sinks, and spreads its Honours on the Ground;
Thus fell the King; and laid on Earth supine,
Before his Chariot stretch'd his Form divine:
He grasp'd the Dust distain'd with streaming Gore,
And pale in Death, lay groaning on the Shore.

1238

So lies a Bull beneath the Lion's Paws,
While the grim Savage grinds with foamy Jaws
The trembling Limbs, and sucks the smoaking Blood;
Deep groans, and hollow roars, rebellow thro' the Wood.
Then to the Leader of the Lycian Band
The dying Chief address'd his last Command.

Verse 605. Glaucus, be bold, &c.] This dying Speech of Sarpedon deserves particular Notice, being made up of noble Sentiments, and fully answering the Character of this brave and generous Prince, which he preserves in his last Moments. Being sensible of approaching Death, without any Transports of Rage, or Desire of Revenge, he calls to his Friend to take care to preserve his Body and Arms from becoming a Prey to the Enemy: And this he says without any regard to himself, but out of the most tender Concern for his Friend's Reputation, who must for ever become infamous if he fails in this Point of Honour and Duty. If we conceive this said by the expiring Hero, his dying Looks fix'd on his wounded disconsolate Friend, the Spear remaining in his Body, and the Victor standing by in a kind of Extasy surveying his Conquest; these Circumstances will form a very moving Picture. Patroclus all this time, either out of Humanity or Surprize, omits to pull out the Spear, which however he does not long forbear, but with it drawing forth his Vitals, puts a Period to this gallant Life.

Glaucus, be bold; thy Task be first to dare

The glorious Dangers of destructive War,
To lead my Troops, to combate at their Head,
Incite the Living, and supply the Dead.
Tell 'em, I charg'd them with my latest Breath
Not unreveng'd to bear Sarpedon's Death.
What Grief, what Shame must Glaucus undergo,
If these spoil'd Arms adorn a Grecian Foe?
Then as a Friend, and as a Warrior, fight;
Defend my Corpse, and conquer in my Right;
That taught by great Examples, all may try
Like thee to vanquish, or like me to die.
He ceas'd; the Fates suppress'd his lab'ring Breath,
And his Eyes darken'd with the Shades of Death:

1239

Th'insulting Victor with Disdain bestrode
The prostrate Prince, and on his Bosom trod;
Then drew the Weapon from his panting Heart,
The reeking Fibres clinging to the Dart;
From the wide Wound gush'd out a Stream of Blood,
And the Soul issu'd in the purple Flood.
His flying Steeds the Myrmidons detain,
Unguided now, their mighty Master slain.
All-impotent of Aid, transfix'd with Grief,
Unhappy Glaucus heard the dying Chief.
His painful Arm, yet useless with the Smart
Inflicted late by Teucer's deadly Dart,
Supported on his better Hand he stay'd;
To Phœbus then ('twas all he could) he pray'd.
All-seeing Monarch! whether Lycia's Coast
Or sacred Ilion, thy bright Presence boast,
Pow'rful alike to ease the Wretche's Smart;
Oh hear me! God of ev'ry healing Art!

Verse 637.

------pierc'd with Pain
That thrils my Arm, and shoots thro' ev'ry Vein.

]

There seems to be an Oversight in this Place. Glaucus in the twelfth Book had been wounded with an Arrow by Teucer at the Attack of the Wall; and here so long after, we find him still on the Field, in the sharpest Anguish of his Wound, the Blood not being yet stanch'd, &c. In the Speech that next follows to Hector, there is also something liable to Censure, when he imputes to the Negligence of the Trojans the Death of Sarpedon, of which they knew nothing till that very Speech inform'd 'em. I beg leave to pass over these things without exposing or defending them, tho' such as these may be sufficient Grounds for a most inveterate War among the Criticks.

Lo! stiff with clotted Blood, and pierc'd with Pain,

That thrills my Arm and shoots thro' ev'ry Vein,

1240

I stand unable to sustain the Spear,
And sigh, at distance from the glorious War.
Low in the Dust is great Sarpedon laid,
Nor Jove vouchsaf'd his hapless Off'ring Aid.
But thou, O God of Health! thy Succour lend,
To guard the Reliques of my slaughter'd Friend.
For thou, tho' distant, can'st restore my Might,
To head my Lycians, and support the Fight.
Apollo heard; and suppliant as he stood,
His heav'nly Hand restrain'd the Flux of Blood;
He drew the Dolours from the wounded Part,
And breath'd a Spirit in his rising Heart.
Renew'd by Art divine, the Hero stands,
And owns th'Assistance of immortal Hands.
First to the Fight his native Troops he warms,
Then loudly calls on Troy's vindictive Arms;
With ample Strides he stalks from Place to Place.
Now fires Agenor, now Polydamas;
Æneas next, and Hector he accosts;
Inflaming thus the Rage of all their Hosts.

1241

What Thoughts, regardless Chief! thy Breast employ?
Oh too forgetful of the Friends of Troy!
Those gen'rous Friends, who, from their Country far,
Breathe their brave Souls out, in another's War.
See! where in Dust the great Sarpedon lies,
In Action valiant, and in Council wise,
Who guarded Right, and kept his People free;
To all his Lycians lost, and lost to thee!
Stretch'd by Patroclus' Arm on yonder Plains,
Oh save from hostile Rage his lov'd Remains:
Ah let not Greece his conquer'd Trophies boast;
Nor on his Corpse revenge her Heroes lost.
He spoke; each Leader in his Grief partook;
Troy, at the Loss, thro' all her Legions shook.
Tranfix'd with deep Regret, they view'd o'erthrown
At once his Country's Pillar, and their own;
A Chief, who led to Troy's beleaguer'd Wall
A Host of Heroes, and outshin'd them all.
Fir'd, they rush on; First Hector seeks the Foes,
And with superior Vengeance, greatly glows.

1242

But o'er the Dead the fierce Patroclus stands,
And rowzing Ajax, rowz'd the list'ning Bands.
Heroes, be Men! be what you were before;
Or weigh the great Occasion, and be more.
The Chief who taught our lofty Walls to yield,
Lies pale in Death, extended on the Field.
To guard his Body Troy in Numbers flies;
'Tis half the Glory to maintain our Prize.
Haste, strip his Arms, the Slaughter round him spread,
And send the living Lycians to the Dead.
The Heroes kindle at his fierce Command;
The martial Squadrons close on either Hand:
Here Troy and Lycia charge with loud Alarms,
Thessalia there, and Greece, oppose their Arms.
With horrid Shouts they circle round the Slain;
The Clash of Armour rings o'er all the Plain.

Verse 696. Great Jove—O'er the fierce Armies pours pernicious Night.] Homer calls here by the Name of Night, the Whirlwinds of thick Dust which rise from beneath the Feet of the Combatants, and which hinders them from knowing one another. Thus Poetry knows how to convert the most natural things into Miracles; these two Armies are bury'd in Dust round Sarpedon's Body, 'tis Jupiter who pours upon them an obscure Night, to make the Battel bloodier, and to honour the Funeral of his Son by a greater Number of Victims. Eustathius.

Great Jove, to swell the Horrors of the Fight,

O'er the fierce Armies pours pernicious Night,
And round his Son confounds the warring Hosts,
His Fate ennobling with a Croud of Ghosts.

1243

Now Greece gives way, and great Epigeus falls;
Agacleus' Son, from Budium's lofty Walls:
Who chas'd for Murder thence, a Suppliant came
To Peleus, and the silver-footed Dame;
Now sent to Troy, Achilles' Arms to aid,
He pays due Vengeance to his Kinsman's Shade.
Soon as his luckless Hand had touch'd the Dead,
A Rock's large Fragment thunder'd on his Head;
Hurl'd by Hectorean Force, it cleft in twain
His shatter'd Helm, and stretch'd him o'er the Slain.
Fierce to the Van of Fight Patroclus came;
And, like an Eagle darting at his Game,
Sprung on the Trojan and the Lycian Band;
What Grief thy Heart, what Fury urg'd thy Hand.
Oh gen'rous Greek! when with full Vigour thrown
At Stenelaus flew the weighty Stone,
Which sunk him to the dead: when Troy, too near
That Arm, drew back; and Hector learn'd to fear.
Far as an able Hand a Lance can throw,
Or at the Lists, or at the fighting Foe;

1244

So far the Trojans from their Lines retir'd;
Till Glaucus' turning, all the rest inspir'd.
Then Bathyclæus fell beneath his Rage,
The only Hope of Chalcon's trembling Age:
Wide o'er the Land was stretch'd his large Domain,
With stately Seats, and Riches, blest in vain:
Him, bold with Youth, and eager to pursue
The flying Lycians, Glaucus met, and slew;
Pierc'd thro' the Bosom with a sudden Wound,
He fell, and falling, made the Fields resound.
Th'Achaians sorrow for their Hero slain;
With conqu'ring Shouts the Trojans shake the Plain,
And crowd to spoil the Dead: The Greeks oppose:
An Iron Circle round the Carcase grows.
Then brave Laogonus resign'd his Breath,
Dispatch'd by Merion to the Shades of Death:
On Ida's holy Hill he made abode,
The Priest of Jove, and honour'd like his God.
Between the Jaw and Ear the Javelin went;
The Soul, exhaling, issu'd at the vent.

1245

His Spear Æneas at the Victor threw,
Who stooping forward from the Death withdrew;
The Lance hiss'd harmless o'er his cov'ring Shield,
And trembling strook, and rooted in the Field,
There yet scarce spent, it quivers on the Plain,
Sent by the great Æneas' Arm in vain.
Swift as thou art (the raging Hero cries)

Verse 746. And skill'd in Dancing.] This Stroke of Raillery upon Meriones is founded on the Custom of his Country. For the Cretans were peculiarly addicted to this Exercise, and in particular are said to have invented the Pyrrhic Dance, which was perform'd in compleat Armour. See the forty sixth Note on the thirteenth Book.

And skill'd in Dancing to dispute the Prize,

My Spear, the destin'd Passage had it found,
Had fix'd thy active Vigour to the Ground.
Oh valiant Leader of the Dardan Host!
(Insulted Merion thus retorts the Boast)
Strong as you are, 'tis mortal Force you trust,
An Arm as strong may stretch thee in the Dust.
And if to this my Lance thy Fate be giv'n,
Vain are thy Vaunts, Success is still from Heav'n;
This Instant sends thee down to Pluto's Coast,
Mine is the Glory, his thy parting Ghost.
O Friend (Menœtius' Son this Answer gave)
With Words to combate, ill befits the Brave:

1246

Not empty Boasts the Sons of Troy repell,
Your Swords must plunge them to the Shades of Hell.
To speak, beseems the Council; but to dare
In glorious Action, is the Task of War.
This said, Patroclus to the Battel flies;
Great Merion follows, and new Shouts arise:
Shields, Helmets rattle, as the Warriors close;
And thick and heavy sounds the Storm of Blows.
As thro' the shrilling Vale, or Mountain Ground,
The Labours of the Woodman's Axe resound;
Blows following Blows are heard re-echoing wide,
While crackling Forests fall on ev'ry side.
Thus echo'd all the Fields with loud Alarms,
So fell the Warriors, and so rung their Arms.
Now great Sarpedon, on the sandy Shore,
His heav'nly Form defac'd with Dust and Gore,
And stuck with Darts by warring Heroes shed;
Lies undistinguish'd from the vulgar dead.
His long-disputed Corpse the Chiefs inclose,
On ev'ry side the busy Combate grows;

1247

Thick, as beneath some Shepherd's thatch'd Abode,
The Pails high-foaming with a milky Flood,
The buzzing Flies, a persevering Train,
Incessant swarm, and chas'd, return again.
Jove view'd the Combate with a stern Survey,
And Eyes that flash'd intolerable Day;
Fix'd on the Field his Sight, his Breast debates
The Vengeance due, and meditates the Fates;
Whether to urge their prompt Effect, and call
The Force of Hector to Patroclus' Fall,
This Instant see his short-liv'd Trophies won,
And stretch him breathless on his slaughter'd Son;
Or yet, with many a Soul's untimely flight,
Augment the Fame and Horror of the Fight?
To crown Achilles' valiant Friend with Praise
At length he dooms; and that his last of Days
Shall set in Glory; bids him drive the Foe;
Nor unattended, see the Shades below.
Then Hector's Mind he fills with dire Dismay;
He mounts his Car, and calls his Hosts away;

1248

Sunk with Troy's heavy Fates, he sees decline
The Scales of Jove, and pants with Awe divine.
Then, nor before, the hardy Lycians fled,
And left their Monarch with the common dead:
Around, in heaps on heaps, a dreadful Wall
Of Carnage rises, as the Heroes fall.
(So Jove decreed!) At length the Greeks obtain
The Prize contested, and despoil the Slain.
The radiant Arms are by Patroclus born,
Patroclus' Ships the glorious Spoils adorn.
Then thus to Phœbus, in the Realms above,
Spoke from his Throne the Cloud-compelling Jove.
Descend, my Phœbus! on the Phrygian Plain,
And from the Fight convey Sarpedon slain;
Then bathe his Body in the crystal Flood,
With Dust dishonour'd, and deform'd with Blood:
O'er all his Limbs Ambrosial Odours shed,
And with celestial Robes adorn the Dead.
Those Rites discharg'd, his sacred Corpse bequeath
To the soft Arms of silent Sleep and Death;

1249

They to his Friends the mournful Charge shall bear,
His Friends a Tomb and Pyramid shall rear;
What Honours Mortals after Death receive,
Those unavailing Honours we may give!
Apollo bows, and from Mount Ida's Height,
Swift to the Field precipitates his Flight;
Thence from the War the breathless Hero bore,
Veil'd in a Cloud, to silver Simois' Shore:
There bath'd his honourable Wounds, and drest
His manly Members in th'immortal Vest;
And with Perfumes of sweet Ambrosial Dews,
Restores his Freshness, and his Form renews.

Verse 831. Then Sleep and Death, &c.] It is the Notion of Eustathius, that by this Interment of Sarpedon, where Sleep and Death are concern'd, Homer seems to intimate, that there was nothing else but an empty Monument of that Hero in Lycia, for he delivers him not to any real or solid Persons, but to certain unsubstantial Phantoms to conduct his Body thither. He was forced (continues my Author) to make use of these Machines, since there were no other Deities he could with any likelihood employ about this Work; for the Ancients (as appears from Euripides, Hippolyto) had a Superstition that all dead Bodies were offensive to the Gods, they being of a Nature celestial and uncorruptible. But this last Remark is impertinent, since we see in this very Place Apollo is employ'd in adorning and embalming the Body of Sarpedon.

What I think better accounts for the Passage, is what Philostratus in Heroicis affirms, that this alludes to a Piece of Antiquity. “The Lycians shew'd the Body of Sarpedon, strew'd over with Aromatical Spices, in such a graceful Composure, that he seem'd to be only asleep: And it was this that gave Rise to the Fiction of Homer, that his Rites were perform'd by Sleep and Death.”

But after all these refin'd Observations, it is probable the Poet intended only to represent the Death of this favourite Son of Jupiter, and one of his most amiable Characters, in a gentle and agreeable View, without any Circumstances of Dread or Horror; intimating by this Fiction, that he was delivered out of all the Tumults and Miseries of Life by two imaginary Deities, Sleep and Death, who alone can give Mankind Ease and Exemption from their Misfortunes.

Then Sleep and Death, two Twins of winged Race,

Of matchless Swiftness, but of silent Pace,
Receiv'd Sarpedon, at the God's Command,
And in a Moment reach'd the Lycian Land;
The Corpse amidst his weeping Friends they laid,
Where endless Honours wait the sacred Shade.
Meanwhile Patroclus pours along the Plains,
With foaming Coursers, and with loosen'd Reins.

1250

Fierce on the Trojan and the Lycian Crew,
Ah blind to Fate! thy headlong Fury flew:
Against what Fate and pow'rful Jove ordain,
Vain was thy Friend's Command, thy Courage vain.
For he, the God, whose Counsels uncontroll'd,
Dismay the mighty, and confound the bold:
The God who gives, resumes, and orders all,
He urg'd thee on, and urg'd thee on to fall.

Verse 847. Who first, brave Hero! &c.] The Poet in a very moving and solemn way turns his Discourse to Patroclus. He does not accost his Muse, as it is usual with him to do, but enquires of the Hero himself who was the first, and who the last, who fell by his Hand? This Address distinguishes and signalizes Patroclus, (to whom Homer uses it more frequently, than I remember on any other occasion) as if he was some Genius or divine Being, and at the same time it is very pathetical and apt to move our Compassion. The same kind of Apostrophe is used by Virgil to Camilla.

Quem telo primum, quem postremum, aspera virgo!
Dejicis? Aut quot humi morientia corpora fundis?
Who first, brave Hero! by that Arm was slain,

Who last, beneath thy Vengeance, press'd the Plain;
When Heav'n itself thy fatal Fury led,
And call'd to fill the Number of the Dead?
Adrestus first; Autonous then succeeds,
Echeclus follows; next young Megas bleeds;
Epistor, Menalippus, bite the Ground;
The Slaughter, Elasus and Mulius crown'd:
Then sunk Pylartes to eternal Night;
The rest dispersing, trust their Fates to Flight.
Now Troy had stoop'd beneath his matchless Pow'r,
But flaming Phœbus kept the sacred Tow'r.

1251

Thrice at the Battlement Patroclus strook,
His blazing Ægis thrice Apollo shook:
He try'd the fourth; when, bursting from the Cloud,
A more than mortal Voice was heard aloud.
Patroclus! cease: This Heav'n-defended Wall
Defies thy Lance; not fated yet to fall;
Thy Friend, thy greater far, it shall withstand,
Troy shall not stoop ev'n to Achilles' Hand.
So spoke the God who darts celestial Fires:
The Greek obeys him, and with Awe retires.
While Hector checking at the Scæan Gates
His panting Coursers, in his Breast debates,
Or in the Field his Forces to employ,
Or draw the Troops within the Walls of Troy.
Thus while he thought, beside him Phœbus stood,
In Asius' Shape, who reign'd by Sangar's Flood;
(Thy Brother, Hecuba! from Dymas sprung;
A valiant Warrior, haughty, bold, and young.)
Thus he accosts him. What a shameful Sight!
Gods! is it Hector that forbears the Fight?

1252

Were thine my Vigour, this successful Spear
Should soon convince thee of so false a Fear.
Turn then, ah turn thee to the Field of Fame,
And in Patroclus' Blood efface thy Shame.
Perhaps Apollo shall thy Arms succeed,
And Heav'n ordains him by thy Lance to bleed.
So spoke th'inspiring God; then took his flight,
And plung'd amidst the Tumult of the Fight.
He bids Cebrion drive the rapid Car;
The Lash resounds; the Coursers rush to War.
The God the Grecians sinking Souls deprest,
And pour'd swift Spirits thro' each Trojan Breast.
Patroclus lights, impatient for the Fight;
A Spear his Left, a Stone employs his Right:
With all his Nerves he drives it at the Foe;
Pointed above, and rough and gross below:
The falling Ruin crush'd Cebrion's Head,
(The lawless Offspring of King Priam's Bed,)
His Front, Brows, Eyes, one undistinguish'd Wound,
The bursting Balls drop sightless to the Ground.

1253

The Charioteer, while yet he held the Rein,
Struck from the Car, falls headlong on the Plain.
To the dark Shades the Soul unwilling glides,
While the proud Victor thus his Fall derides,
Good Heav'ns! what active Feats yon' Artist shows,

Verse 904. What skilful Divers, &c.] The Original is literally thus. 'Tis pity he is not nearer the Sea, he would furnish good Quantities of excellent Oisters, and the Storms would not frighten him; see how he exercises and plunges from the Top of his Chariot into the Plain! Who would think that there were such good Divers at Troy? This seems to be a little too long; and if this Passage be really Homer's, I could almost swear that he intended to let us know, that a good Soldier may be an indifferent Jester. But I very much doubt whether this Passage be his: It is very likely these five last Verses were added by some of the ancient Criticks, whose Caprices Homer has frequently undergone; or perhaps some of the Rhapsodists, who in reciting his Verses, made Additions of their own to please their Auditors. And what persuades me of its being so, is, that 'tis by no means probable that Patroclus who had lately blam'd Meriones for his little Raillery against Æneas, and told him; “that 'twas not by Raillery or Invective that they were to repel the Trojans, but by Dint of Blows; that Council requir'd Words, but War Deeds:” It is by no means probable, I say, that the same Patroclus should forget that excellent Precept, and amuse himself with Raillery, especially in the Sight of Hector. I am therefore of Opinion that Patroclus said no more than this Verse, Ω ποποι, &c. Good Gods! what an active Trojan it is, and how cleverly he dives, and that the five following are Strangers, tho' very ancient. Dacier.

I must just take notice, that however mean or ill placed these Railleries may appear, there have not been wanting such fond Lovers of Homer as have admir'd and imitated 'em. Milton himself is of this Number, as may be seen from those very low Jests, which he has put into the Mouth of Satan and his Angels in the 6th Book. What Æneas says to Meriones upon his Dancing is nothing so trivial as those Lines, where after the Displosion of their Diabolical Enginry, Angel rowling on Archangel, they are thus derided.

------ When we propounded Terms
Of Composition, strait they chang'd their Minds,
Flew off, and into strange Vagaries fell,
As they would dance; yet for a Dance they seem'd
Somewhat extravagant and wild, perhaps
For joy of offer'd Peace—&c.
------ Terms that amus'd 'em all,
And stumbled many; who receives them right
Had need from Head to Foot well understand:
Not understood, this Gift they have besides,
They show us when our Foes walk not upright.
What skilful Divers are our Phrygian Foes!

Mark with what Ease they sink into the Sand!
Pity! that all their Practice is by Land.
Then rushing sudden on his prostrate Prize,
To spoil the Carcase fierce Patroclus flies:
Swift as a Lion, terrible and bold,
That sweeps the Fields, depopulates the Fold;
Pierc'd thro' the dauntless Heart, then tumbles slain;
And from his fatal Courage finds his Bane.
At once bold Hector leaping from his Car,
Defends the Body, and provokes the War.
Thus for some slaughter'd Hind, with equal Rage,
Two lordly Rulers of the Wood engage;
Stung with fierce Hunger, each the Prey invades,
And echoing Roars rebellow thro' the Shades.

1254

Stern Hector fastens on the Warrior's Head,
And by the Foot Patroclus drags the Dead.
While all around, Confusion, Rage, and Fright
Mix the contending Hosts in mortal Fight.
So pent by Hills, the wild Winds roar aloud
In the deep Bosom of some gloomy Wood;
Leaves, Arms, and Trees aloft in Air are blown,
The broad Oaks crackle, and the Sylvans groan;
This way and that, the ratt'ling Thicket bends,
And the whole Forest in one Crash descends.
Not with less Noise, with less tumultuous Rage,
In dreadful Shock the mingled Hosts engage.
Darts show'r'd on Darts, now round the Carcase ring;
Now Flights of Arrows bounding from the String:
Stones follow Stones; some clatter on the Fields,
Some, hard and heavy, shake the sounding Shields.
But where the rising Whirlwind clouds the Plains,
Sunk in soft Dust the mighty Chief remains,
And stretch'd in Death, forgets the guiding Reins!

1255

Now flaming from the Zenith, Sol had driv'n
His fervid Orb thro' half the Vault of Heav'n;
While on each Host with equal Tempest fell
The show'ring Darts, and Numbers sunk to Hell.
But when his Ev'ning Wheels o'erhung the Main,
Glad Conquest rested on the Grecian Train.
Then from amidst the Tumult and Alarms,
They draw the conquer'd Corpse, and radiant Arms.
Then rash Patroclus with new Fury glows,
And breathing Slaughter, pours amid the Foes.
Thrice on the Press like Mars himself he flew,
And thrice three Heroes at each Onset slew.
There ends thy Glory! there the Fates untwine
The last, black Remnant of so bright a Line.

Verse 952. Apollo, dreadful, &c.] If Homer is resolv'd to do any thing extraordinary, or arbitrary, which his Readers may not very well relish, he takes care however to prepare them by degrees for receiving such Innovations. He had before given us a Sketch of this Trick of the Gods in the 13th Book, where Neptune serves Alcathous much in the same manner. Apollo here carries it a little farther; and both these are Specimens of what we are to expect from Minerva at the Death of Hector in Il. 22.

Apollo dreadful stops thy middle way;

Death calls, and Heav'n allows no longer Day!
For lo! the God, in dusky Clouds enshrin'd,

Verse 955. The Death of Patroclus .] I sometimes think I am in respect to Homer much like Sancho Panca with regard to Don Quixote. I believe upon the whole that no Mortal ever came near him for Wisdom, Learning, and all good Qualities. But sometimes there are certain Starts which I cannot tell what to make of, and am forced to own that my Master is a little out of the way, if not quite besides himself. The present Passage of the Death of Patroclus, attended with so many odd Circumstances to overthrow this Hero (who might, for all I can see, as decently have fallen by the Force of Hector) are what I am at a loss to excuse, and must indeed (in my own Opinion) give them up to the Criticks. I really think almost all those Parts which have been objected against with most Clamour and Fury, are honestly defensible, and none of 'em (to confess my private Sentiment) seem to me to be Faults of any Consideration, except this Conduct in the Death of Patroclus; the Length of Nestor's Discourse in Lib. 11. the Speech of Achilles's Horse in the 19th. the Conversation of that Hero with Æneas in Lib. 20. the manner of Hector's Flight round the Walls of Troy, and his Death, in Lib. 22. I hope, after so free a Confession, no reasonable Modern will think me touch'd with the Ομηρομανια of Madam Dacier and others. I am sensible of the Extremes which Mankind run into, in extolling and depreciating Authors: We are not more violent and unreasonable in attacking those who are not yet establish'd into Fame, than in defending those who are, even in every minute Trifle. Fame is a Debt, which when we have kept from People as long as we can, we pay with a prodigious Interest, which amounts to twice the Value of the Principal. Thus 'tis with ancient Works as with ancient Coins, they pass for a vast deal more than they were worth at first; and the very Obscurities and Deformities which Time has thrown upon them, are the sacred Rust, which enhances their Value with all true Lovers of Antiquity.

But as I have own'd what seem my Author's Faults, and subscrib'd to the Opinion of Horace, that Homer sometimes nods; I think I ought to add that of Longinus as to such Negligences. I can no way so well conclude the Notes to this Book as with the Translation of it.

“It may not be improper to discuss the Question in general, which of the two is the more estimable, a faulty Sublime, or a faultless Mediocrity? And consequently, if of two Works, one has the greater Number of Beauties, and the other attains directly to the Sublime, which of these shall in Equity carry the Prize? I am really persuaded that the true Sublime is incapable of that Purity which we find in Compositions of a lower Strain, and in effect that too much Accuracy sinks the Spirit of an Author; whereas the Case is generally the same with the Favourites of Nature, and those of Fortune, who with the best Oeconomy cannot, in the great Abundance they are blest with, attend to the minuter Articles of their Expence. Writers of a cool Imagination are cautious in their Management, and venture nothing, merely to gain the Character of being correct; but the Sublime is bold and enterprizing, notwithstanding that on every Advance the Danger encreaseth. Here probably some will say that Men take a malicious Satisfaction in exposing the Blemishes of an Author; that his Errors are never forgot, while the most exquisite Beauties leave but very imperfect Traces on the Memory. To obviate this Objection I will solemnly declare, that in my Criticisms on Homer and other Authors, who are universally allow'd to be authentic Standards of the Sublime, tho' I have censur'd their Failings with as much Freedom as any one, yet I have not presum'd to accuse them of voluntary Faults, but have gently remark'd some little Defects and Negligences, which the Mind being intent on nobler Ideas did not condescend to regard. And on these Principles I will venture to lay it down for a Maxim, that the Sublime (purely on account of its Grandeur) is preferable to all other kinds of Style, however it may fall into some Inequalities. The Argonauticks of Apollonius are faultless in their kind; and Theocritus hath shewn the happiest Vein imaginable for Pastorals, excepting those in which he has deviated from the Country: And yet if it were put to your Choice, would you have your Name descend to Posterity with the Reputation of either of those Poets, rather than with that of Homer? Nothing can be more correct than the Erigone of Eratosthenes; but is he therefore a greater Poet than Archilochus, in whose Composures Perspicuity and Order are often wanting; the divine Fury of his Genius being too impatient for Restraint, and superior to Law? Again, do you prefer the Odes of Bacchilides to Pindar's, or the Scenes of Ion of Chios to those of Sophocles? Their Writings are allow'd to be correct, polite, and delicate; whereas, on the other Hand, Pindar and Sophocles sometimes hurry on with the greatest Impetuosity, and like a devouring Flame seize and set on Fire whatever comes in their way; but on a sudden the Conflagration is extinguish'd, and they most miserably flag when no body expects it. Yet none have so little Discernment as not to prefer the single Oedipus of Sophocles to all the Tragedies that Ion ever brought on the Stage.

“In our Decisions therefore on the Characters of these great Men, who have illustrated what is useful and necessary with all the Graces and Elevation of Style; we must impartially confess that, with all their Errors, they have more Perfections than the Nature of Man can almost be conceiv'd capable of attaining: For 'tis merely human to excell in other kinds of Writing, but the Sublime ennobleth our Nature, and makes near Approaches to Divinity: He who commits no Faults, is barely read without Censure; but a Genius truly great excites Admiration. In short, the Magnificence of a single Period in one of these admirable Authors is sufficient to attone for all their Defects: Nay farther, if any one should collect from Homer, Demosthenes, Plato, and other celebrated Heroes of Antiquity, the little Errors that have escap'd them; they would not bear the least Proportion to the infinite Beauties to be met with in every Page of their Writings. 'Tis on this account that Envy, thro' so many Ages, hath never been able to wrest from them the Prize of Eloquence which their Merits have so justly acquir'd: An Acquisition which they still are, and will, in all Probability continue possess'd of,

“As long as Streams in silver Mazes rove,
“Or Spring with annual Green renews the Grove.
Mr. Fenton.
Approaching dealt a stagg'ring Blow behind.

The weighty Shock his Neck and Shoulders feel;
His Eyes flash Sparkles, his stunn'd Senses reel

1256

In giddy Darkness: Far to distance flung,
His bounding Helmet on the Champain rung.
Achilles' Plume is stain'd with Dust and Gore;
That Plume, which never stoop'd to Earth before,
Long us'd, untouch'd, in fighting Fields to shine,
And shade the Temples of the Man divine.
Jove dooms it now on Hector's Helm to nod;
Not long—For Fate pursues him, and the God.
His Spear in Shivers falls: His ample Shield
Drops from his Arm: his Baldrick strows the Field:
The Corselet his astonish'd Breast forsakes:
Loose is each Joint; each Nerve with Horror shakes.
Stupid he stares, and all-assistless stands:
Such is the Force of more than mortal Hands!
A Dardan Youth there was, well-known to Fame,
From Panthus sprung, Euphorbus was his Name;
Fam'd for the Manage of the foaming Horse,
Skill'd in the Dart, and matchless in the Course:
Full twenty Knights he tumbled from the Car,
While yet he learn'd his Rudiments of War.

1257

His vent'rous Spear first drew the Hero's Gore;
He strook, he wounded, but he durst no more;
Nor tho' disarm'd, Patroclus' Fury stood:
But swift withdrew the long-protended Wood,
And turn'd him short, and herded in the Croud.
Thus, by an Arm divine, and mortal Spear,
Wounded at once, Patroclus yields to fear,
Retires for Succour to his social Train,
And flies the Fate, which Heav'n decreed, in vain.
Stern Hector, as the bleeding Chief he views,
Breaks thro' the Ranks, and his Retreat pursues:
The Lance arrests him with a mortal Wound;
He falls, Earth thunders, and his Arms resound.
With him all Greece was sunk; that Moment all
Her yet-surviving Heroes seem'd to fall.
So scorch'd with Heat along the desart Shore,
The roaming Lyon meets a bristly Boar,
Fast by the Spring; they both dispute the Flood,
With flaming Eyes, and Jaws besmear'd with Blood;

1258

At length the sov'reign Savage wins the Strife,
And the torn Boar resigns his Thirst and Life.
Patroclus thus, so many Chiefs o'erthrown,
So many Lives effus'd, expires his own.
As dying now at Hector's Feet he lies,
He sternly views him, and triumphing cries.

Verse 1003. Lie there, Patroclus ! &c.] There is much Spirit in this Sarcasm of Hector upon Patroclus: Nor is Achilles exempt from the Severity of the Reflection, who (as he imagines) had persuaded his dearest Friend to attempt Exploits that were impracticable. He touches him also, for staying at home in Security himself, and encouraging Patroclus to undertake this perillous Adventure, and to seek after Spoils which he was never like to enjoy. Eustathius.

Lie there Patroclus! and with thee, the Joy

Thy Pride once promis'd, of subverting Troy;
The fancy'd Scenes, of Ilion wrapt in Flames,
And thy soft Pleasures serv'd with captive Dames!
Unthinking Man! I fought, those Tow'rs to free,
And guard that beauteous Race from Lords like thee:
But thou a Prey to Vulturs shalt be made!
The fierce Achilles cannot lend thee Aid;
Tho much at parting that great Chief might say,
And much enjoin thee, this important Day.
“Return not, my brave Friend (perhaps he said)
“Without the bloody Arms of Hector dead:
He spoke, Patroclus march'd, and thus he sped.

1259

Supine, and wildly gazing on the Skies,
With faint, expiring Breath, the Chief replies.
Vain Boaster! cease, and know the Pow'rs divine;
Jove's and Apollo's is this Deed, not thine;
To Heav'n is ow'd whate'er your own you call,
And Heav'n itself disarm'd me e'er my Fall.
Had twenty Mortals, each thy Match in Might,
Oppos'd me fairly, they had sunk in Fight:
By Fate and Phœbus was I first o'erthrown,
Euphorbus next; the third mean Part thy own.

Verse 1027.

------Hear my latest Breath,
The Gods inspire it.------

]

It is an Opinion of great Antiquity, that when the Soul is on the point of being delivered from the Body, and makes a nearer Approach to the divine Nature, at such a time its Views are stronger and clearer, and the Mind endow'd with a Spirit of true Prediction. So Artemon of Miletum says in his Book of Dreams, that when the Soul hath collected all its Powers from every Limb and Part of the Body, and is just ready to be severed from it, at that time it becomes Prophetical. Socrates also in his Defence to the Athenians, “I am now arrived at the Verge of Life, wherein it is familiar with People to foretell what will come to pass.” Eustathius.

This Opinion seems alluded to in those admirable Lines of Waller.

Leaving the old, both Worlds at once they view,
Who stand upon the Threshold of the new.
But thou Imperious! hear my latest Breath;

The Gods inspire it, and it sounds thy Death.
Insulting Man! thou shalt be soon, as I;
Black Fate hangs o'er thee, and thy Hour draws nigh;
Ev'n now on Life's last Verge I see thee stand,
I see thee fall, and by Achilles' Hand.
He faints; the Soul unwilling wings her way,
(The beauteous Body left a Load of Clay)
Flits to the lone, uncomfortable Coast;
A naked, wand'ring, melancholy Ghost!

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Then Hector pausing, as his Eyes he fed
On the pale Carcase thus address'd the dead.
From whence this boding Speech, the stern Decree
Of Death denounc'd, or why denounc'd to me?
Why not as well Achilles' Fate be giv'n
To Hector's Lance? Who knows the Will of Heav'n?
Pensive he said; then pressing as he lay
His breathless Bosom, tore the Lance away;
And upwards cast the Corps: The reeking Spear
He shakes, and charges the bold Charioteer.
But swift Automedon with loosned Reins
Rapt in the Chariot o'er the distant Plains,
Far from his Rage th'immortal Coursers drove;
Th'immortal Coursers were the Gift of Jove.