University of Virginia Library


153

THE NINETEENTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.


154

The ARGUMENT.

The Reconciliation of Achilles and Agamemnon.

THETIS brings to her Son the Armour made by Vulcan. She preserves the Body of his Friend from Corruption, and commands him to assemble the Army, to declare his Resentment at an end. Agamemnon and Achilles are solemnly reconcil'd: The Speeches, Presents, and Ceremonies on that Occasion. Achilles is with great Difficulty persuaded to refrain from the Battel till the Troops have refresh'd themselves, by the Advice of Ulysses. The Presents are convey'd to the Tent of Achilles; where Briseis laments over the Body of Patroclus. The Hero obstinately refuses all repast, and gives himself up to Lamentations for his Friend. Minerva descends to strengthen him, by the Order of Jupiter. He arms for the Fight; his Appearance described. He addresses himself to his Horses, and reproaches them with the Death of Patroclus. One of them is miraculously endued with Voice, and inspir'd to prophecy his Fate; but the Hero, not astonish'd by that Prodigy, rushes with Fury to the Combate.

The thirtieth Day. The Scene is on the Sea-shore.


155

Soon as Aurora heav'd her orient Head
Above the Waves that blush'd with early Red,
(With new-born Day to gladden mortal Sight,
And gild the Courts of Heav'n with sacred Light.)
Th'immortal Arms the Goddess-Mother bears
Swift to her Son: Her Son she finds in Tears,
Stretch'd o'er Patroclus' Corse; while all the rest
Their Sov'reign's Sorrows in their own exprest.
A Ray divine her heav'nly Presence shed,
And thus, his Hand soft-touching, Thetis said.
Suppress (my Son) this Rage of Grief, and know
It was not Man, but Heav'n that gave the Blow;

156

Verse 13. Behold what Arms, &c.] 'Tis not Poetry only which has had this Idea, of giving divine Ams to a Hero; we have a very remarkable Example of it in our holy Books. In the second of Maccabees, chap. 16. Judas sees in a Dream the Prophet Jeremiah bringing to him a Sword as from God: Tho' this was only a Dream, or a Vision, yet still it is the same Idea. This Example is likewise so much the more worthy of Observation, as it is much later than the Age of Homer; and as thereby it is seen, that the same way of Thinking continued a long time amongst the Oriental Nations. Dacier.

Behold what Arms by Vulcan are bestow'd,

Arms worthy thee, or fit to grace a God.
Then drops the radiant Burden on the Ground;
Clang the strong Arms, and ring the Shores around:
Back shrink the Myrmidons with dread Surprize,
And from the broad Effulgence turn their Eyes.
Unmov'd, the Hero kindles at the Show,
And feels with Rage divine his Bosom glow
From his fierce Eye-balls living Flames expire,
And flash incessant like a Stream of Fire:
He turns the radiant Gift; and feeds his Mind
On all th'immortal Artist had design'd.
Goddess (he cry'd) these glorious Arms that shine
With matchless Art, confess the Hand divine.
Now to the bloody Battel let me bend:
But ah! the Relicks of my slaughter'd Friend!
In those wide Wounds thro' which his Spirit fled,

Verse 30. Shall Flies and Worms obscene pollute the Dead?] The Care which Achilles takes in this place to drive away the Flies from the dead Body of Patroclus, seems to us a mean Employment, and a Care unworthy of a Hero. But that Office was regarded by Homer, and by all the Greeks of his time, as a pious Duty consecrated by Custom and Religion; which obliged the Kindred and Friends of the Deceas'd to watch his Corps, and prevent any Corruption before the solemn Day of his Funerals. It is plain this Devoir was thought an indispensable one, since Achilles could not discharge himself of it but by imposing it upon his Mother. It is also clear, that in those times the Preservation of a dead Body was accounted a very important Matter, since the Goddesses themselves, nay the most delicate of the Goddesses, made it the Subject of their utmost Attention. As Thetis preserves the Body of Patroclus, and chases from it those Insects that breed in the Wounds and cause Putrefaction, so Venus is employ'd Day and Night about that of Hector, in driving away the Dogs to which Achilles had expos'd it. Apollo, on his part, covers it with a thick Cloud, and preserves its Freshness amidst the greatest Heats of the Sun: And this Care of the Deities over the Dead was look'd upon by Men as a Fruit of their Piety.

There is an excellent Remark upon this Passage in Bossu's admirable Treatise of the Epic Poem, lib. 3. c. 10. “To speak (says this Author) of the Arts and Sciences as a Poet ought, we should veil them under Names and Actions of Persons fictitious and allegorical. Homer will not plainly say that Salt has the Virtue to preserve dead Bodies, and prevent the Flies from engendering Worms in them; he will not say, that the Sea presented Achilles a Remedy to preserve Patroclus from Putrefaction; but he will make the Sea a Goddess, and tell us, that Thetis to comfort Achilles, engaged to perfume the Body with an Ambrosia which shou'd keep it a whole Year from Corruption: It is thus Homer teaches the Poets to speak of Arts and Sciences. This Example shews the Nature of the things, that Flies cause Putrefaction, that Salt preserves Bodies from it; but all this is told us poetically, the whole is reduced into Action, the Sea is made a Person who speaks and acts, and this Prosopopœia is accompanied with Passion, Tenderness and Affection; in a word, there is nothing which is not (according to Aristotle's Precept) endued with Manners.

Shall Flies and Worms obscene, pollute the Dead?

That unavailing Care be laid aside,
(The Azure Goddess to her Son reply'd)
Whole Years untouch'd, uninjur'd shall remain
Fresh as in Life, the Carcase of the Slain.

157

But go, Achilles, (as Affairs require)
Before the Grecian Peers renounce thine Ire:
Then uncontroll'd in boundless War engage,
And Heav'n with Strength supply the mighty Rage!
Then in the Nostrils of the Slain she pour'd
Nectareous Drops, and rich Ambrosia showr'd
O'er all the Corse: The Flies forbid their Prey,
Untouch'd it rests, and sacred from Decay.
Achilles to the Strand obedient went;
The Shores resounded with the Voice he sent.
The Heroes heard, and all the Naval Train
That tend the Ships, or guide them o'er the Main,
Alarm'd, transported, at the well-known Sound,
Frequent and full, the great Assembly crown'd;
Studious to see that Terror of the Plain,
Long lost to Battel, shine in Arms again.
Tydides and Ulysses first appear,
Lame with their Wounds, and leaning on the Spear;
These on the sacred Seats of Council plac'd,
The King of Men, Atrides, came the last:
He too sore wounded by Agenor's Son.
Achilles (rising in the midst) begun.

158

Oh Monarch! better far had been the Fate
Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian State,
If, (e'er the Day when by mad Passion sway'd,
Rash we contended for the black-ey'd Maid)

Verse 61. Preventing Dian had dispatch'd her Dart, And shot the shining Mischief to the Heart.] Achilles wishes Briseis had died before she had occasion'd so great Calamities to his Countreymen: I will not say, to excuse him, that his Virtue here overpowers his Love, but that the Wish is not so very barbarous as it may seem by the Phrase to a modern Reader. It is not, that Diana had actually kill'd her, as by a particular Stroke or Judgment from Heaven; it means no more than a natural Death, as appears from this Passage in Odyss. 15.

When Age or Sickness have unnerv'd the Strong,
Apollo comes, and Cynthia comes along,
They bend the Silver Bows for sudden Ill,
And every shining Arrow flies to kill.

And he does not wish her Death now, after she had been his Mistress, but only that she had died, before he knew, or lov'd her.

Preventing Dian had dispatch'd her Dart,

And shot the shining Mischief to the Heart!
Then many a Hero had not press'd the Shore,
Nor Troy's glad Fields been fatten'd with our Gore:
Long, long shall Greece the Woes we caus'd, bewail,
And sad Posterity repeat the Tale.
But this, no more the Subject of Debate,
Is past, forgotten, and resign'd to Fate:
Why should (alas) a mortal Man, as I,
Burn with a Fury that can never die?
Here then my Anger ends: Let War succeed,
And ev'n as Greece has bled, let Ilion bleed.
Now call the Hosts, and try, if in our Sight,
Troy yet shall dare to camp a second Night?
I deem, their Mightiest, when this Arm he knows,
Shall 'scape with Transport, and with Joy repose.
He said: His finish'd Wrath with loud Acclaim
The Greeks accept, and shout Pelides' Name.

159

When thus, not rising from his lofty Throne,
In State unmov'd, the King of Men begun.
Hear me ye Sons of Greece! with Silence hear!
And grant your Monarch an impartial Ear;
Awhile your loud, untimely Joy suspend,
And let your rash, injurious Clamours end:
Unruly Murmurs, or ill-tim'd Applause,
Wrong the best Speaker, and the justest Cause.
Nor charge on me, ye Greeks, the dire Debate;
Know, angry Jove, and all-compelling Fate,
With fell Erynnis, urg'd my Wrath that Day
When from Achilles' Arms I forc'd the Prey.
What then cou'd I, against the Will of Heaven?
Not by my self, but vengeful Ate driv'n;

Verse 93. She, Jove's dread daughter.] This Speech of Agamemnon, consisting of little else than the long Story of Jupiter's casting Discord out of Heaven, seems odd enough at first sight; and does not indeed answer what I believe every Reader expects, at the Conference of these two Princes. Without excusing it from the Justness, and proper Application of the Allegory in the present Case, I think it a piece of Artifice, very agreeable to the Character of Agamemnon, which is a Mixture of Haughtiness and Cunning! He cannot prevail with himself any way to lessen the Dignity of the royal Character, of which he every where appears jealous: Something he is oblig'd to say in publick, and not brooking directly to own himself in the wrong, he slurs it over with this Tale. With what Stateliness is it that he yields? “I was misled (says he) but I was misled like Jupiter. We invest you with our Powers, take our Troops and our Treasures: Our royal Promise shall be fulfill'd, but be you pacified.”

Verse 93. She, Jove's dread Daughter, fated to infest The Race of Mortals—] It appears from hence, that the Ancients own'd a Dæmon, created by God himself, and totally taken up in doing Mischief.

This Fiction is very remarkable, in as much as it proves that the Pagans knew that a Dæmon of Discord and Malediction was in Heaven, and afterwards precipitated to Earth, which perfectly agrees with holy History. St. Justin will have it, that Homer attain'd to the Knowledge thereof in Egypt, and that he had ev'n read what Isaiah writes, chap. 14. How art thou fal'n from Heaven, O Lucifer, Son of the Morning, how art thou cut down to the Ground which didst weaken the Nations? But our Poet could not have seen the Prophecy of Isaiah, because he liv'd 100, or 150 Years before that Prophet; and this Anteriority of Time makes this Passage the more observable. Homer therein bears authentick Witness to the Truth of the Story, of an Angel thrown from Heaven, and gives this Testimony above an 100 Years before one of the greatest Prophets spoke of it

Dacier.
She, Jove's dread Daughter, fated to infest

The Race of Mortals, enter'd in my Breast.
Not on the Ground that haughty Fury treads,
But prints her lofty Footsteps on the Heads
Of mighty Men; inflicting as she goes
Long-fest'ring Wounds, inextricable Woes!
Of old, she stalk'd amid the bright Abodes;
And Jove himself, the Sire of Men and Gods,

160

The World's great Ruler, felt her venom'd Dart;
Deceiv'd by Juno's Wiles, and female Art.
For when Alcmena's nine long Months were run,
And Jove expected his immortal Son;
To Gods and Goddesses th'unruly Joy
He show'd, and vaunted of his matchless Boy:
From us (he said) this Day an Infant springs,
Fated to rule, and born a King of Kings.
Saturnia ask'd an Oath, to vouch the Truth,
And fix Dominion on the favour'd Youth.
The Thund'rer, unsuspicious of the Fraud,
Pronounc'd those solemn Words that bind a God.
The joyful Goddess, from Olympus' Height,
Swift to Achaian Argos bent her Flight;
Scarce sev'n Moons gone, lay Sthenelus his Wife;
She push'd her ling'ring Infant into Life:
Her Charms Alcmena's coming Labours stay,
And stop the Babe, just issuing to the Day.
Then bids Saturnius bear his Oath in mind;
A Youth (said she) of Jove's immortal Kind
Is this Day born: From Sthenelus he springs,
And claims thy Promise to be King of Kings.

161

Grief seiz'd the Thund'rer, by his Oath engag'd;
Stung to the Soul, he sorrow'd, and he rag'd.
From his Ambrosial Head, where perch'd she sate,
He snatch'd the Fury-Goddess of Debate,
The dread, th'irrevocable Oath he swore,
Th'immortal Seats should ne'er behold her more;
And whirl'd her headlong down, for ever driv'n
From bright Olympus and the starry Heav'n:
Thence on the nether World the Fury fell;
Ordain'd with Man's contentious Race to dwell.
Full oft' the God his Son's hard Toils bemoan'd,
Curs'd the dire Fury, and in secret groan'd.
Ev'n thus, like Jove himself, was I misled,
While raging Hector heap'd our Camps with Dead.
What can the Errors of my Rage attone?
My martial Troops, my Treasures, are thy own:
This Instant from the Navy shall be sent
Whate'er Ulysses promis'd at thy Tent:
But thou! appeas'd, propitious to our Pray'r,
Resume thy Arms, and shine again in War.
O King of Nations! whose superiour Sway
(Returns Achilles) all our Hosts obey!

162

Verse 145. To keep or send the Presents, be thy Care.] Achilles neither refuses nor demands Agamemnon's Presents: The first would be too contemptuous, and the other would look too selfish. It wou'd seem as if Achilles fought only for Pay like a Mercenary, which wou'd be utterly unbecoming a Hero, and dishonourable to that Character: Homer is wonderful as to the Manners. Spond. Dac.

To keep, or send the Presents, be thy Care;

To us, 'tis equal: All we ask is War.
While yet we talk, or but an instant shun
The Fight, our glorious Work remains undone.
Let ev'ry Greek who sees my Spear confound
The Trojan Ranks, and deal Destruction round,
With Emulation, what I act, survey,
And learn from thence the Business of the Day.
The Son of Peleus thus: And thus replies.
The great in Councils, Ithacus the Wise.
Tho' god-like Thou art by no Toils opprest,
At least our Armies claim Repast and Rest:
Long and laborious must the Combate be,
When by the Gods inspir'd, and led by thee.

Verse 159. Strength is deriv'd from Spirits, &c.] This Advice of Ulysses that the Troops shou'd refresh themselves with Eating and Drinking, was extremely necessary, after a Battel of so long Continuance as that of the Day before: And Achilles's Desire that they shou'd charge the Enemy immediately, without any Reflection on the Necessity of that Refreshment, was also highly natural to his violent Character. This forces Ulysses to repeat that Advice, and insist upon it so much: Which these Criticks did not see into, who thro' a false Delicacy are shock'd at his insisting so warmly on Eating and Drinking. Indeed to a common Reader who is more fond of heroick and romantick, than of just and natural Images, this at first sight may have an Air of Ridicule; but I'll venture to say there is nothing ridiculous in the Thing itself, nor mean and low in Homer's manner of expressing it: And I believe the same of this Translation, tho' I have not soften'd or abated of the Idea they are so offended with.

Strength is deriv'd from Spirits and from Blood,

And those augment by gen'rous Wine and Food;
What boastful Son of War, without that Stay,
Can last a Hero thro' a single Day?
Courage may prompt; but, ebbing out his Strength,
Mere unsupported Man must yield at length;
Shrunk with dry Famine, and with Toils declin'd,
The dropping Body will desert the Mind:

163

But built anew with Strength-conferring Fare,
With Limbs and Soul untam'd, he tires a War.
Dismiss the People then, and give command,
With strong Repast to hearten ev'ry Band;
But let the Presents, to Achilles made,
In full Assembly of all Greece be laid.
The King of Men shall rise in publick Sight,
And solemn swear, (observant of the Rite)
That spotless as she came, the Maid removes,
Pure from his Arms, and guiltless of his Loves.
That done, a sumptuous Banquet shall be made,
And the full Price of injur'd Honour paid.
Stretch not henceforth, O Prince! thy sov'reign Might,
Beyond the Bounds of Reason and of Right;
'Tis the chief Praise that e'er to Kings belong'd,
To right with Justice, whom with Pow'r they wrong'd.
To him the Monarch. Just is thy Decree,
Thy Words give Joy, and Wisdom breathes in thee.
Each due Atonement gladly I prepare;
And Heav'n regard me as I justly swear!
Here then awhile let Greece assembled stay,
Nor great Achilles grudge this short Delay;

164

Till from the Fleet our Presents be convey'd,
And, Jove attesting, the firm Compact made.
A Train of noble Youth the Charge shall bear;
These to select, Ulysses, be thy Care:
In order rank'd let all our Gifts appear,
And the fair Train of Captives close the Rear:
Talthybius shall the Victim Boar convey,
Sacred to Jove, and yon' bright Orb of Day.

Verse 197. The stern Æacides replies.] The Greek Verse is

Τον δ' απαμειβομενος προσεφη ποδας ωκυς Αχιλλευς.

Which is repeated very frequently throughout the Iliad. It is a very just Remark of a French Critick, that what makes it so much taken notice of, is the rumbling Sound and Length of the Word απαμειβομενος: This is so true, that if in a Poem or Romance of the same Length as the Iliad, we should repeat The Hero answer'd, full as often, we should never be sensible of that Repetition. And if we are not shock'd at the like Frequency of those Expressions in the Æneid, sic ore resert, talia voce resert, talia dicta dabat, vix ea satus erat, &c. it is only because the Sound of the Latin Words does not fill the Ear like that of the Greek απαμειβομενος

The Discourse of the same Critick upon these sort of Repetitions in general, deserves to be transcribed. That useless Nicety (says he) of avoiding every Repetition which the Delicacy of later Times has introduced, was not known to the first Ages of Antiquity: The Books of Moses abound with them. Far from condemning their frequent Use in the most ancient of all the Poets, we should look upon them as the certain Character of the Age in which he liv'd: They spoke so in his Time, and to have spoken otherwise had been a Fault. And indeed nothing is in itself so contrary to the true Sublime, as that painful and frivolous Exactness, with which we avoid to make use of a proper Word because it was us'd before. It is certain that the Romans were less scrupulous as to this point: You have often in a single Page of Tully, the same Word five or six times over. If it were really a Fault, it is not to be conceiv'd how an Author who so little wanted Variety of Expressions as Homer, could be so very negligent herein? On the contrary, he seems to have affected to repeat the same Things in the same Words, on many Occasions.

It was from two Principles equally true, that among several People, and in several Ages, two Practices entirely different took their Rise. Moses, Homer, and the Writers of the first Times, had found that Repetitions of the same Words recall'd the Ideas of Things, imprinted them much more strongly, and render'd the Discourse more intelligible. Upon this Principle, the Custom of repeating Words, Phrases, and even entire Speeches, insensibly establish'd itself both in Prose and in Poetry, especially in Narrations.

The Writers who succeeded them observ'd, even from Homer himself, that the greatest Beauty of Style consisted in Variety. This they made their Principle: They therefore avoided Repetitions of Words, and still more of whole Sentences; they endeavour'd to vary their Transitions; and found out new Turns and Manners of expressing the same Things.

Either of these Practices is good, but the Excess of either vicious: We should neither on the one hand, thro' a Love of Simplicity and Clearness, continually repeat the same Words, Phrases, or Discourses; nor on the other, for the Pleasure of Variety, fall into a childish Affectation of expressing every thing twenty different Ways, tho' it be never so natural and common.

Nothing so much cools the Warmth of a Piece or puts out the Fire of Poetry, as that perpetual Care to vary incessantly even in the smallest Circumstances. In this, as in many other Points, Homer has despis'd the ungrateful Labour of too scrupulous a Nicety. He has done like a great Painter, who does not think himself oblig'd to vary all his Pieces to that degree, as not one of 'em shall have the least Resemblance to another: If the principal Figures are entirely different, we easily excuse a Resemblance in the Landscapes, the Skies, or the Draperies. Suppose a Gallery full of Pictures, each of which represents a particular Subject: In one I see Achilles in Fury, menacing Agamemnon; in another the same Hero with regret delivers up Briseis to the Heralds; in a third 'tis still Achilles, but Achilles overcome with Grief, and lamenting to his Mother. If the Air, the Gesture, the Countenance, the Character of Achilles, are the same in each of these three Pieces; if the Ground of one of these be the same with that of the others in the Composition and general Design, whether it be Landscape, or Architecture; then indeed one should have reason to blame the Painter for the Uniformity of his Figures and Grounds. But if there be no Sameness but in the Folds of a few Draperies, in the Structure of some part of a Building, or in the Figure of some Tree, Mountain, or Cloud, it is what no one would regard as a Fault. The Application is obvious: Homer repeats, but they are not the great Strokes which he repeats, not those which strike and fix our Attention: They are only the little Parts, the Transitions, the general Circumstances, or familiar Images, which recur naturally, and upon which the Reader but casts his Eye carelesly: Such as the Descriptions of Sacrifices, Repasts, or Embarquements; such in short, as are in their own Nature much the same, which it is sufficient just to shew, and which are in a manner incapable of different Ornaments.

For this (the stern Æacides replies)

Some less important Season may suffice,
When the stern Fury of the War is o'er,
And Wrath extinguish'd burns my Breast no more.
By Hector slain, their Faces to the Sky,
All grim with gaping Wounds, our Heroes lye:
Those call to War! and might my Voice incite,
Now, now, this Instant, shou'd commence the Fight.
Then, when the Days' complete, let gen'rous Bowls
And copious Banquets, glad your weary Souls.
Let not my Palate know the Taste of Food,
Till my insatiate Rage be cloy'd with Blood:

Verse 209. Pale lies my Friend, &c.] It is in the Greek, lies extended in my Tent with his Face turned towards the Door, ανα προθυρον τετραμμενος, that is to say, as the Scholiast has explain'd it, having his Feet turned towards the Door. For it was thus the Greeks placed their Dead in the Porches of their Houses, as likewise in Italy,

In portam rigidos calces extendit.
Persius.
------ Recepitque ad limina gressum,
Corpus ubi exanimi positum Pallantis Acetes
Servabat Senior ------

Thus we are told by Suetonius, of the Body of Augustus— Equester ordo suscepit, urbique intulit, atque in Vestibulo domus collocavit.

Pale lyes my Friend, with Wounds disfigur'd o'er,

And his cold Feet are pointed to the Door.

165

Revenge is all my Soul! no meaner Care,
Int'rest, or Thought, has room to harbour there;
Destruction be my Feast, and mortal Wounds,
And Scenes of Blood, and agonizing Sounds.
O first of Greeks (Ulysses thus rejoin'd)
The best and bravest of the Warrior-Kind!
Thy Praise it is in dreadful Camps to shine,
But old Experience and calm Wisdom, mine.
Then hear my Counsel, and to Reason yield,
The bravest soon are satiate of the Field;

Verse 221. Tho' vast the Heaps, &c.] Ulysses's Expression in the Original is very remarkable; he calls καλαμην, Straw or Chaff, such as are kill'd in the Battel; and he calls αμητον, the Crop, such as make their Escape. This is very conformable to the Language of Holy Scripture, wherein those who perish are called Chaff, and those who are saved are call'd Corn. Dacier.

Tho' vast the Heaps that strow the crimson Plain,

The bloody Harvest brings but little Gain:
The Scale of Conquest ever wav'ring lies,
Great Jove but turns it, and the Victor dies!
The Great, the Bold, by Thousands daily fall,
And endless were the Grief, to weep for all.
Eternal Sorrows what avails to shed?
Greece honours not with solemn Fasts the Dead:
Enough, when Death demands the Brave, to pay
The Tribute of a melancholy Day.
One Chief with Patience to the Grave resign'd,
Our Care devolves on others left behind.

166

Let gen'rous Food Supplies of Strength produce,
Let rising Spirits flow from sprightly Juice,
Let their warm Heads with Scenes of Battle glow,
And pour new Furies on the feebler Foe.

Verse 237.—

None shall dare
Expect a second Summons to the War.

]

This is very artful; Ulysses, to prevail upon Achilles to let the Troops take Repast, and yet in some sort to second his impatience, gives with the same Breath Orders for Battel, by commanding the Troops to march, and expect no farther Orders. Thus tho' the Troops go to take Repast, it looks as if they do not lose a moment's time, but are going to put themselves in Array of Battel. Dacier.

Yet a short Interval, and none shall dare

Expect a second Summons to the War;
Who waits for that, the dire Effect shall find,
If trembling in the Ships he lags behind.
Embodied, to the Battel let us bend,
And all at once on haughty Troy descend.
And now the Delegates Ulysses sent,
To bear the Presents from the royal Tent.
The Sons of Nestor, Phyleus' valiant Heir,
Thias and Merion, Thunderbolts of War,
With Lycomedes of Creiontian Strain,
And Melanippus; form'd the chosen Train.
Swift as the Word was giv'n, the Youths obey'd;
Twice ten bright Vases in the midst they laid;
A Rowe of six fair Tripods then succeeds;
And twice the Number of high-bounding Steeds:
Sev'n Captives next a lovely Line compose;
The eighth Briseis, like the blooming Rose,

167

Clos'd the bright Band: Great Ithacus, before,
First of the Train, the golden Talents bore:
The rest in publick View the Chiefs dispose,
A splendid Scene! Then Agamemnon rose:
The Boar Talthybius held: The Grecian Lord
Drew the broad Cutlace sheath'd beside his Sword;
The stubborn Bristles from the Victim's Brow
He crops, and off'ring meditates his Vow.
His Hands uplifted to th'attesting Skies,
On Heav'ns broad marble Roof were fix'd his Eyes,
The solemn Words a deep Attention draw,
And Greece around sate thrill'd with sacred Awe.
Witness thou First! thou greatest Pow'r above!
All good, all-wise, and all-surveying Jove!
And Mother Earth, and Heav'ns revolving Light,
And ye, fell Furies of the Realms of Night,
Who rule the Dead, and horrid Woes prepare
For perjur'd Kings, and all who falsely swear!
The black-ey'd Maid inviolate removes,
Pure and unconscious of my manly Loves.
If this be false, Heav'n all its Vengeance shed,
And level'd Thunder strike my guilty Head!

168

With that, his Weapon deep inflicts the Wound;
The bleeding Savage tumbles to the Ground:
The sacred Herald rolls the Victim slain

Verse 280. Rolls the Victim into the Main.] For it was not lawful to eat the Flesh of the Victims, that were sacrificed in Confirmation of Oaths; such were Victims of Malediction. Eustathius.

(A Feast for Fish) into the foaming Main.

Verse 281. Hear ye Greeks , &c.] Achilles, to let them see that he is entirely appeas'd, justifies Agamemnon himself, and enters into the Reasons with which that Prince had colour'd his Fault. But in that Justification he perfectly well preserves his Character, and illustrates the Advantage he has over that King who offended him. Dacier.

Then thus Achilles. Hear, ye Greeks! and know

Whate'er we feel, 'tis Jove inflicts the Woe:
Not else Atrides could our Rage inflame,
Nor from my Arms, unwilling, force the Dame.
'Twas Jove's high Will alone, o'eruling all,
That doom'd our Strife, and doom'd the Greeks to fall.
Go then ye Chiefs! indulge the genial Rite;
Achilles waits ye, and expects the Fight.
The speedy Council at his Word adjourn'd;
To their black Vessels all the Greeks return'd.
Achilles sought his Tent. His Train before
March'd onward, bending with the Gifts they bore.
Those in the Tents the Squires industrious spread;
The foaming Coursers to the Stalls they led.
To their new Seats the Female Captives move;
Briseis, radiant as the Queen of Love,
Slow as she past, beheld with sad survey
Where gash'd with cruel Wounds, Patroclus lay.

169

Prone on the Body fell the heav'nly Fair,
Beat her sad Breast, and tore her golden Hair;
All-beautiful in Grief, her humid Eyes
Shining with Tears, she lifts, and thus she cries.

Verse 303, &c. The Lamentation of Briseis over Patroclus .] This Speech (says Dionysius of Halicarnassus) is not without its Artifice: While Briseis seems only to be deploring Patroclus, she represents to Achilles who stands by, the Breach of the Promises he had made her, and upbraids him with the Neglect he had been guilty of in resigning her up to Agamemnon. He adds, that Achilles hereupon acknowledges the Justice of her Complaint, and makes answer that his Promises should be performed: It was a slip in that great Critick's Memory, for the Verse he cites is not in this Part of the Author, [Περι εσχηματισμενων, Part 2.]

Ah Youth! for ever dear, for ever kind,

Once tender Friend of my distracted Mind!
I left thee fresh in Life, in Beauty gay;
Now find thee cold, inanimated Clay!
What Woes my wretched Race of Life attend?
Sorrows on Sorrows, never doom'd to end!
The first lov'd Consort of my virgin Bed
Before these Eyes in fatal Battel bled:
My three brave Brothers in one mournful Day
All trod the dark, irremeable Way:
Thy friendly Hand uprear'd me from the Plain,
And dry'd my Sorrows for a Husband slain;

Verse 315. Achilles Care you promis'd, &c.] In these Days when our Manners are so different from those of the Ancients, and we see none of those dismal Catastrophes which laid whole Kingdoms waste and subjected Princesses and Queens to the Power of the Conqueror; it will perhaps seem astonishing, that a Princess of Briseis's Birth, the very Day that her Father, Brothers, and Husband were kill'd by Achilles, should suffer her self to be comforted and even flatter'd with the Hopes of becoming the Spouse of their Murderer. But such were the Manners of those Times, as ancient History testifies: And a Poet represents them as they were; But if there was a Necessity for justifying them, it might be said that Slavery was at that time so terrible, that in truth a Princess like Briseis was pardonable, to chuse rather to become Achilles's Wife than his Slave. Dacier.

Achilles' Care you promis'd I shou'd prove,

The first, the dearest Partner of his Love,
That Rites divine should ratify the Band,
And make me Empress in his native Land.
Accept these grateful Tears! For thee they flow,
For thee, that ever felt another's Woe!

170

Her Sister Captives echo'd Groan for Groan,

Verse 322. Nor mourn'd Patroclus Fortunes but their own.] Homer adds this Touch, to heighten the Character of Briseis, and to shew the Difference there was between her and the other Captives. Briseis, as a well-born Princess, really bewail'd Patroclus out of Gratitude; but the others, by pretending to bewail him, wept only out of Interest. Dacier.

Nor mourn'd Patroclus' Fortunes, but their own.

The Leaders press'd the Chief on ev'ry side;
Unmov'd, he heard them, and with Sighs deny'd.
If yet Achilles have a Friend, whose Care
Is bent to please him; this Request forbear:
Till yonder Sun descend, ah let me pay
To Grief and Anguish one abstemious Day.
He spoke, and from the Warriors turn'd his Face:
Yet still the Brother-Kings of Atreus' Race:
Nestor, Idomeneus, Ulysses sage,
And Phœnix; strive to calm his Grief and Rage
His Rage they calm not, nor his Grief controul;
He groans, he raves, he sorrows from his Soul.

Verse 335. Thou too Patroclus , &c.] This Lamentation is finely introduced: While the Generals are persuading him to take some Refreshment, it naturally awakens in his Mind the Remembrance of Patroclus, who had so often brought him Food every Morning before they went to Battel: This is very natural, and admirably well conceals the Art of drawing the Subject of his Discourse from the things that present themselves. Spondanus.

Thou too, Patroclus! (thus his Heart he vents)

Hast spread th'inviting Banquet in our Tents;
Thy sweet Society, thy winning Care,
Oft' stay'd Achilles, rushing to the War.
But now alas! to Death's cold Arms resign'd,
What Banquet but Revenge can glad my Mind?
What greater Sorrow could afflict my Breast,
What more, if hoary Peleus were deceast?

171

Who now, perhaps, in Pthia dreads to hear
His Son's sad Fate, and drops a tender Tear.)
What more, should Neoptolemus the brave,
(My only Offspring) sink into the Grave?
If yet that Offspring lives, (I distant far,
Of all neglectful, wage a hateful War.)
I cou'd not this, this cruel Stroke attend;
Fate claim'd Achilles, but might spare his Friend.

Verse 351. I hop'd, Patroclus might survive, &c.] Patroclu was young, and Achilles who had but a short time to lives hoped that after his Death his dear Friend wou'd be as a Father to his Son, and put him into the Possession of his Kingdom: Neoptolemus wou'd in Patroclus find Peleus and Achilles; whereas when Patroclus was dead, he must be an Orphan indeed. Homer is particularly admirable for the Sentiments, and always follows Nature. Dacier.

I hop'd Patroclus might survive, to rear

My tender Orphan with a Parent's Care,
From Scyros Isle conduct him o'er the Main,
And glad his Eyes with his paternal Reign,
The lofty Palace, and the large Domain.
For Peleus breaths no more the vital Air;
Or drags a wretched Life of Age and Care,
But till the News of my sad Fate invades
His hastening Soul, and sinks him to the Shades.
Sighing he said: His Grief the Heroes join'd,
Each stole a Tear for what he left behind.
Their mingled Grief the Sire of Heav'n survey'd,
And thus, with Pity, to his blue-ey'd Maid.

172

Is then Achilles now no more thy Care,
And dost thou thus desert the Great in War?
Lo, where yon' Sails their canvas Wings extend,
All comfortless he sits, and wails his Friend:
E'er Thirst and Want his Forces have opprest,
Haste and infuse Ambrosia in his Breast.
He spoke, and sudden as the Word of Jove
Shot the descending Goddess from above.
So swift thro' Æther the shrill Harpye springs,
The wide Air floating to her ample Wings.
To great Achilles she her Flight addrest,
And pour'd divine Ambrosia in his Breast,
With Nectar sweet, (Refection of the God's!)
Then, swift ascending, sought the bright Abodes.
Now issued from the Ships the warrior Train,
And like a Deluge pour'd upon the Plain.
As when the piercing Blasts of Boreas blow,
And scatter o'er the Fields the driving Snow;
From dusky Clouds the fleecy Winter flies,
Whose dazling Lustre whitens all the Skies:

Verse 384. So Helms succeeding Helms, so Shields from Shields Catch the quick Beams, and brighten all the Fields.] It is probable the Reader may think the Words, shining, splendid, and others deriv'd from the Lustre of Arms, too frequent in these Books. My Author is to answer for it, but it may be alledg'd in his Excuse, that when it was the Custom for every Soldier to serve in Armour, and when those Arms were of Brass before the Use of Iron became common, these Images of Lustre were less avoidable, and more necessarily frequent in Descriptions of this nature.

So Helms succeeding Helms, so Shields from Shields

Catch the quick Beams, and brighten all the Fields;

173

Broad-glitt'ring Breastplates, Spears with pointed Rays
Mix in one Stream, reflecting Blaze on Blaze:
Thick beats the Center as the Coursers bound,
With Splendor flame the Skies, and laugh the Fields around.
Full in the midst, high tow'ring o'er the rest,
His Limbs in Arms divine Achilles drest;
Arms which the Father of the Fire bestow'd,
Forg'd on th'Eternal Anvils of the God.
Grief and Revenge his furious Heart inspire,
His glowing Eye-balls roll with living Fire,
He grinds his Teeth, and furious with Delay
O'erlooks th'embattled Host, and hopes the bloody Day.

Verse 398. Achilles arming himself, &c.] There is a wonderful Pomp in this Description of Achilles's arming himself; every Reader without being pointed to it, will see the extreme Grandeur of all these Images; But what is particular, is, in what a noble Scale they rise one above another, and how the Hero is set still in a stronger Point of Light than before; till he is at last in a manner cover'd over with Glories: He is at first likened to the Moonlight, then to the Flames of a Beacon, then to a Comet, and lastly to the Sun it self.

The silver Cuishes first his Thighs infold;

Then o'er his Breast was brac'd the hollow Gold:
The brazen Sword a various Baldrick ty'd,
That, starr'd with Gems, hung glitt'ring at his side;
And like the Moon, the broad refulgent Shield
Blaz'd with long Rays, and gleam'd athwart the Field.
So to Night-wand'ring Sailors, pale with Fears,
Wide o'er the wat'ry Waste, a Light appears,
Which on the far-seen Mountain blazing high,
Streams from some lonely Watch-tow'r to the Sky:

174

With mournful Eyes they gaze, and gaze again;
Loud howls the Storm, and drives them o'er the Main.
Next, his high Head the Helmet grac'd; behind
The sweepy Crest hung floating in the Wind:
Like the red Star, that from his flaming Hair
Shakes down Diseases, Pestilence and War;
So stream'd the golden Honours from his Head,
Trembled the sparkling Plumes, and the loose Glories shed.
The Chief beholds himself with wond'ring eyes;
His Arms he poises, and his Motions tries;
Buoy'd by some inward Force, he seems to swim,
And feels a Pinion lifting ev'ry Limb.
And now he shakes his great paternal Spear,
Pond'rous and huge! which not a Greek could rear.
From Pelion's cloudy Top an Ash entire
Old Chiron fell'd, and shap'd it for his Sire;
A Spear which stern Achilles only wields,
The Death of Heroes, and the Dread of Fields.
Automedon and Alcimus prepare
Th'immortal Coursers, and the radiant Car,
(The silver Traces sweeping at their side)
Their fiery Mouths resplendent Bridles ty'd,

175

The Iv'ry studded Reins, return'd behind,
Wav'd o'er their Backs, and to the Chariot join'd.
The Charioteer then whirl'd the Lash around,
And swift ascended at one active Bound.
All bright in heav'nly Arms, above his Squire
Achilles mounts, and sets the Field on Fire;
Not brighter, Phœbus in th'Æthereal Way,
Flames from his Chariot, and restores the Day.
High o'er the Host, all terrible he stands,
And thunders to his Steeds these dread Commands.
Xanthus and Balius! of Podarges' Strain,
(Unless ye boast that heav'nly Race in vain)
Be swift, be mindful of the Load ye bear,
And learn to make your Master more your Care:
Thro' falling Squadrons bear my slaught'ring Sword,
Nor, as ye left Patroclus, leave your Lord.
The gen'rous Xanthus, as the Words he said,
Seem'd sensible of Woe, and droop'd his Head:
Trembling he stood before the golden Wain,
And bow'd to Dust the Honours of his Mane,

Verse 450. Then (strange to tell! so Juno will'd) he broke Eternal Silence, and portentous spoke.] It is remark'd, in excuse of this extravagant Fiction of a Horse speaking, that Homer was authorized herein by Fable, Tradition, and History. Livy makes mention of two Oxen that spoke on different occasions, and recites the Speech of one, which was, Roma cave tibi. Pliny tells us, these Animals were particularly gifted this way, l. 8. c. 45. Est frequens in prodigiis priscorum, bovem locutum. Besides Homer had prepar'd us for expecting something miraculous from these Horses of Achilles, by representing them to be immortal. We have seen 'em already sensible, and weeping at the Death of Patroclus: And we must add to all this, that a Goddess is concern'd in working this Wonder: It is Juno that does it. Oppian alludes to this in a beautiful Passage of his first Book: Not having the Original by me, I shall quote (what I believe is no less beautiful) Mr. Fenton's Translation of it.

Of all the prone Creation, none display
A friendlier Sense of Man's superior Sway:
Some in the silent Pomp of Grief complain,
For the brave Chief, by doom of Battel slain:
And when young Peleus in his rapid Car
Rush'd on, to rouze the Thunder of the War,
With human Voice inspir'd, his Steed deplor'd
The Fate impending dreadful o'er his Lord.
Cyneg. lib. 1.

Spondanus and Dacier fail not to bring up Balaam's Ass on this Occasion. But methinks the Commentators are at too much pains to discharge the Poet from the Imputation of extravagant Fiction, by accounting for Wonders of this kind: I am afraid, that next to the Extravagance of inventing them, is that of endeavouring to reconcile such Fictions to Probability. Would not one general Answer do better, to say once for all, that the abovecited Authors liv'd in the Age of Wonders: The Taste of the World has been generally turn'd to the Miraculous; Wonders were what the People would have, and what not only the Poets, but the Priests, gave 'em.

When strange to tell! (So Juno will'd) he broke

Eternal Silence, and portentous spoke.

176

Achilles! yes! this Day at least we bear
Thy rage in safety thro' the Files of War:
But come it will, the fatal Time must come,
Nor ours the Fault, but God decrees thy Doom.
Not thro' our Crime, or Slowness in the Course;
Fell thy Patroclus, but by heav'nly Force.
The bright far-shooting God who gilds the Day,
(Confest we saw him) tore his Arms away.
No—could our Swiftness o'er the Winds prevail,
Or beat the Pinions of the Western Gale,
All were in vain—The Fates thy Death demand,
Due to a mortal and immortal Hand.

Verse 464. Then ceas'd for ever, by the Furies ty'd, His fate-ful Voice— The Poet had offended against Probability if he had made Juno take away the Voice, for Juno (which signifies the Air) is the cause of the Voice. Besides, the Poet was willing to intimate that the Privation of the Voice is a thing so dismal and melancholy, that none but the Furies can take upon them so cruel an Employment. Eustathius.

Then ceas'd for ever, by the Furies ty'd,

His fate-ful Voice. Th'intrepid Chief reply'd
With unabated Rage—So let it be!
Portents and Prodigies are lost on me.
I know my Fates: To die, to see no more
My much lov'd Parents, and my native Shore—
Enough—When Heav'n ordains, I sink in Night,
Now perish Troy! He said, and rush'd to Fight.