University of Virginia Library



VOL. VI.

Qui cupit optatam cursu contingere metam,
Multa tulit, fecitque Puer ------
HOR.


1

THE TWENTY-SECOND BOOK OF THE ILIAD

It is impossible but the whole Attention of the Reader must be awaken'd in this Book: The Heroes of the two Armies are now to encounter, all the foregoing Battels have been but so many Preludes and Under-actions, in order to this great Event: Wherein the whole Fate of Greece and Troy is to be decided by the Sword of Achilles and Hector.

This is the Book, which of the whole Iliad appears to me the most charming. It assembles in it all that can be imagined of great and important on the one hand, and of tender and melancholy on the other. Terror and Pity are here wrought up in Perfection, and if the Reader is not sensible of both in a high degree, either he is utterly void of all Taste, or the Translator of all Skill, in Poetry.

.


2

The ARGUMENT.

The Death of Hector.

The Trojans being safe within the Walls, Hector only stays to oppose Achilles. Priam is struck at his approach, and tries to persuade his Son to re-enter the Town. Hecuba joins her Entreaties, but in vain. Hector consults within himself what Measures to take; but at the advance of Achilles, his Resolution fails him, and he flies; Achilles pursues him thrice round the Walls of Troy. The Gods debate concerning the Fate of Hector, at length Minerva descends to the aid of Achilles. She deludes Hector in the Shape of Deiphobus, he stands the Combate, and is slain. Achilles drags the dead Body at his Chariot, in the sight of Priam and Hecuba. Their Lamentations, Tears, and Despair. Their Cries reach the Ears of Andromache, who, ignorant of this, was retired into the inner part of the Palace: She mounts up to the Walls, and beholds her dead Husband. She swoons at the Spectacle. Her Excess of Grief, and Lamentation.

The thirtieth Day still continues. The Scene lies under the Walls, and on the Battlements of Troy.


3

Thus to their Bulwarks, smit with Panick Fear,
The herded Ilians rush like driven Deer;
There safe, they wipe the briny Drops away,
And drown in Bowls the Labours of the Day.
Close to the Walls advancing o'er the Fields,
Beneath one Roof of well-compacted Shields
March, bending on, the Greeks embodied Pow'rs,
Far-stretching in the Shade of Trojan Tow'rs.
Great Hector singly stay'd; chain'd down by Fate,
There fixt he stood before the Scæan Gate;
Still his bold Arms determin'd to employ,
The Guardian still of long-defended Troy.

4

Apollo now to tir'd Achilles turns;
(The Pow'r confest in all his Glory burns)
And what (he cries) has Peleus' Son in view,
With mortal Speed a Godhead to pursue?
For not to thee to know the Gods is giv'n,
Unskill'd to trace the latent Marks of Heav'n.
What boots thee now, that Troy forsook the Plain?
Vain thy past Labour, and thy present vain:
Safe in their Walls are now her Troops bestow'd,
While here thy frantick Rage attacks a God.
The Chief incens'd—Too partial God of Day!
To check my Conquests in the middle way:
How few in Ilion else had Refuge found?
What gasping Numbers now had bit the Ground?
Thou robb'st me of a Glory justly mine,
Pow'rful of Godhead, and of Fraud Divine:
Mean Fame, alas! for one of heav'nly Strain,
To cheat a Mortal, who repines in vain.
Then to the City, terrible and strong,
With high and haughty steps he towr'd along.
So the proud Courser, victor of the prize,
To the near Goal with doubled Ardor flies.

5

Him, as he blazing shot across the Field,
The careful Eyes of Priam first beheld.

Verse 37. Not half so dreadful rises, &c.] With how much dreadful Pomp is Achilles here introduced! How noble, and in what bold Colours hath he drawn the blazing of his Arms, the Rapidity of his Advance, the Terror of his Appearance, the Desolation around him; but above all, the certain Death attending all his Motions and his very Looks; what a Crowd of terrible Ideas in this one Simile!

But immediately after this, follows the moving Image of the two aged Parents, trembling, weeping, and imploring their Son: That is succeeded again by the dreadful gloomy Picture of Hector, all on fire, obstinately bent on Death, and expecting Achilles; admirably painted in the Simile of the Snake roll'd up in his Den and collecting his Poisons: And indeed thro' the whole Book this wonderful Contrast and Opposition of the Moving and of the Terrible, is perpetually kept up, each heightening the other: I can't find Words to express how so great Beauties affect me.

Not half so dreadful rises to the Sight

Thro' the thick Gloom of some tempestuous Night
Orion's Dog (the Year when Autumn weighs)
And o'er the feebler Stars exerts his Rays;
Terrific Glory! for his burning Breath
Taints the red Air with Fevers, Plagues, and Death.
So flam'd his fiery Mail. Then wept the Sage;
He strikes his rev'rend Head now white with Age:
He lifts his wither'd Arms; obtests the Skies;
He calls his much lov'd Son with feeble Cries;
The Son, resolv'd Achilles' Force to dare,
Full at the Scæan Gates expects the War;
While the sad Father on the Rampart stands,
And thus adjures him, with extended Hands.

Verse 51. The Speech of Priam to Hector .] The Poet has entertain'd us all along with various Scenes of Slaughter and Horrour: He now changes to the pathetick, and fills the Mind of the Reader with tender Sorrows. Eustathius observes that Priam preludes to his Words by Actions expressive of Misery: The unhappy Orator introduces his Speech to Hector with Groans and Tears, and rending his hoary Hair. The Father and the King plead with Hector to preserve his Life and his Country. He represents his own Age, and the Loss of many of his Children; and adds, that if Hector falls, he should then be inconsolable, and the Empire of Troy at an end.

It is a piece of great Judgment in Homer to make the Fall of Troy to depend upon the Death of Hector: The Poet does not openly tell us that Troy was taken by the Greeks, but that the Reader might not be unacquainted with what happen'd after the Period of his Poem, he gives us to understand in this Speech, that the City was taken, and that Priam, his Wives, his Sons and Daughters, were either kill'd or made Slaves.

Ah stay not, stay not! guardless and alone;

Hector! my lov'd, my dearest, bravest Son!
Methinks already I behold thee slain,
And stretch'd beneath that Fury of the Plain.
Implacable Achilles! might'st thou be
To all th'Immortals hateful as to me!

6

Thee, Vultures wild should scatter round the Shore
And bloody Dogs grow fiercer from thy Gore.
How many valiant Sons I late enjoy'd,
Valiant in vain! by thy curst Arm destroy'd:
Or, worse than slaughter'd, sold in distant Isles
To shameful Bondage and unworthy Toils.
Two, while I speak, my Eyes in vain explore,
Two from one Mother sprung, my Polydore,
And lov'd Lycaon; now perhaps no more!
Oh if in yonder hostile Camp they live,
What Heaps of Gold, what Treasures would I give?
(Their Grandsire's Wealth, by right of Birth their own,
Consign'd his Daughter with Lelegia's Throne)
But if (which Heav'n forbid) already lost,
All pale they wander on the Stygian Coast;
What Sorrows then must their sad Mother know,
What Anguish I? Unutterable Woe!
Yet less that Anguish, less to her, to me,
Less to all Troy, if not depriv'd of thee,

Verse 76. Enter yet the Wall, and save, &c.] The Argument that Priam uses (says Eustathius) to induce Hector to secure himself in Troy is remarkable; he draws it not from Hector's Fears, nor does he tell him that he is to save his own Life; but he insists upon stronger Motives: He tells him he may preserve his Fellow-Citizens, his Country, and his Father; and farther, persuades him not to add Glory to his mortal Enemy by his Fall.

Yet shun Achilles! enter yet the Wall;

And spare thy self, thy Father, spare us all!

7

Save thy dear Life; or if a Soul so brave
Neglect that Thought, thy dearer Glory save.
Pity, while yet I live, these silver Hairs;
While yet thy Father feels the Woes he bears,
Yet curst with Sense! a Wretch, whom in his Rage
(All trembling on the Verge of helpless Age)
Great Jove has plac'd, sad Spectacle of Pain!
The bitter Dregs of Fortune's Cup to drain:
To fill with Scenes of Death his closing Eyes,
And number all his Days by Miseries!
My Heroes slain, my Bridal Bed o'erturn'd,
My Daughters ravish'd, and my City burn'd,

Verse 90. My bleeding Infants dash'd against the Floor.] Cruelties which the Barbarians usually exercis'd in the sacking of Towns. Thus Isaiah foretels to Babylon that her Children shall be dash'd in pieces before her Eyes by the Medes. Infantes eorum allidentur in oculis eorum, xii. 16. And David says to the same City, Happy shall he be that taketh and dasheth thy little ones against the Stones. Psal. cxxxvii. 9. And in the Prophet Hosea, xiii. 16. Their Infants shall be dash'd in pieces. Dacier.

My bleeding Infants dash'd against the Floor;

These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more!
Perhaps ev'n I, reserv'd by angry Fate
The last sad Relick of my ruin'd State,
(Dire Pomp of sov'reign Wretchedness!) must fall,
And stain the Pavement of my regal Hall;
Where famish'd Dogs, late Guardians of my Door,
Shall lick their mangled Master's spatter'd Gore.
Yet for my Sons I thank ye Gods! 'twas well:
Well have they perish'd, for in Fight they fell.

8

Who dies in Youth, and Vigor, dies the best,
Struck thro' with Wounds, all honest on the Breast.

Verse 102. But when the Fates, &c.] Nothing can be more moving than the Image which Homer gives here, in comparing the different Effects produc'd by the View of a young Man, and that of an old one, both bleeding, and extended on the Dust. The old Man 'tis certain touches us most, and several Reasons may be given for it; the principal is, that the young Man defended himself, and his Death is glorious; whereas an old Man has no defence but his Weakness, Prayers, and Tears. They must be very insensible of what is dreadful, and have no Taste in Poetry, who omit this Passage in a Translation, and substitute things of a trivial and insipid Nature. Dacier.

But when the Fates, in Fulness of their Rage,

Spurn the hoar Head of unresisting Age,
In Dust the rev'rend Lineaments deform,
And pour to Dogs the Life-blood scarcely warm;
This, this is Misery! the last, the worst,
That Man can feel; Man, fated to be curst!
He said, and acting what no Words could say,
Rent from his Head the silver Locks away.
With him the mournful Mother bears a Part;
Yet all their Sorrows turn not Hector's Heart:
The Zone unbrac'd, her Bosom she display'd;
And thus, fast-falling the salt Tears, she said.

Verse 114. The Speech of Hecuba ,] The Speech of Hecuba opens with as much Tenderness as that of Priam: The Circumstance in particular of her shewing that Breast to her Son which had sustain'd his Infancy, is highly moving: It is a silent kind of Oratory, and prepares the Heart to listen, by prepossessing the Eye in favour of the Speaker.

Eustathius takes notice of the Difference between the Speeches of Priam and Hecuba: Priam dissuades him from the Combat by enumerating not only the Loss of his own Family, but of his whole Country: Hecuba dwells entirely upon his single Death; this is a great Beauty in the Poet, to make Priam a Father to his whole Countrey; but to describe the Fondness of the Mother as prevailing over all other Considerations, and to mention that only which chiefly affects her.

This puts me in mind of a judicious Stroke in Milton, with regard to the several Characters of Adam and Eve. When the Angel is driving them both out of Paradise, Adam grieves that he must leave a place where he had convers'd with God and his Angels; but Eve laments that she shall never more behold the fine Flowers of Eden: Here Adam mourns like a Man, and Eve like a Woman.

Have mercy on me, O my Son! Revere

The Words of Age; attend a Parent's Pray'r!
If ever thee in these fond Arms I prest,
Or still'd thy infant Clamours at this Breast;
Ah do not thus our helpless Years foregoe,
But by our Walls secur'd, repel the Foe.
Against his Rage if singly thou proceed,
Should'st thou (but Heav'n avert it!) should'st thou bleed

9

Nor must thy Corps lye honour'd on the Bier,
Nor Spouse nor Mother grace thee with a Tear;
Far from our pious Rites, those dear Remains
Must feast the Vultures on the naked Plains.
So they, while down their Cheeks the Torrents roll;
But fix'd remains the Purpose of his Soul:
Resolv'd he stands, and with a fiery Glance
Expects the Hero's terrible Advance.
So roll'd up in his Den, the swelling Snake
Beholds the Traveller approach the Brake;
When fed with noxious Herbs his turgid Veins
Have gather'd half the Poisons of the Plains;
He burns, he stiffens with collected Ire,
And his red Eye-balls glare with living Fire.
Beneath a Turret, on his Shield reclin'd,
He stood, and question'd thus his mighty Mind.
Where lyes my Way? To enter in the Wall?
Honour and Shame th'ungen'rous Thought recall:

Verse 140. The Soliloquy of Hector .] There is much Greatness in the Sentiments of this whole Soliloquy. Hector prefers Death to an ignominious Life: He knows how to die with Glory, but not how to live with Dishonour. The Reproach of Polydamas affects him; the Scandals of the meanest People have an Influence on his Thoughts.

'Tis remarkable that he does not say, he fears the Insults of the braver Trojans, but of the most worthless only. Men of Merit are always the most candid; but others are ever for bringing all Men to a Level with themselves. They cannot bear that any one should be so bold as to excel, and are ready to pull him down to them, upon the least Miscarriage. This Sentiment is perfectly fine, and agreeable to the way of thinking natural to a great and sensible Mind.

There is a very beautiful Break in the middle of this Speech. Hector's Mind fluctuates every way, he is calling a Council in his own Breast, and consulting what Method to pursue: He doubts if he should not propose Terms of Peace to Achilles, and grants him very large Concessions; but of a sudden he checks himself, and leaves the Sentence unfinish'd. The Paragraph runs thus, “If, says Hector, I should offer him the largest Conditions, give all that Troy contains—There he stops, and immediately subjoins, “But why do I delude myself, &c.

'Tis evident from this Speech that the Power of making Peace was in Hector's Hands: For unless Priam had transfer'd it to him he could not have made these Propositions. So that it was Hector who broke the Treaty in the third Book; (where the very same Conditions were propos'd by Agamemnon.) 'Tis Hector therefore that is guilty, he is blameable in continuing the War, and involving the Greeks and Trojans in Blood. This Conduct in Homer was necessary; he observes a poetical Justice, and shews us that Hector is a Criminal, before he brings him to Death. Eustathius.

Shall proud Polydamas before the Gate

Proclaim, his Counsels are obey'd too late,
Which, timely follow'd but the former Night,
What Numbers had been sav'd by Hector's Flight?

10

That wise Advice rejected with Disdain,
I feel my Folly in my People slain.
Methinks my suff'ring Country's Voice I hear,
But most, her worthless Sons insult my Ear,
On my rash Courage charge the Chance of War,
And blame those Virtues which they cannot share.
No—If I e'er return, return I must
Glorious, my Country's Terror laid in Dust:
Or if I perish, let her see me fall
In Field at least, and fighting for her Wall.
And yet suppose these Measures I forego,
Approach unarm'd, and parly with the Foe,
The Warrior-Shield, the Helm, and Lance lay down,
And treat on Terms of Peace to save the Town:
The Wife with-held, the Treasure ill detain'd,
(Cause of the War, and Grievance of the Land)
With honourable Justice to restore;
And add half Ilion's yet remaining Store,
Which Troy shall, sworn, produce; that injur'd Greece
May share our Wealth, and leave our Walls in Peace.
But why this Thought? Unarm'd if I should go,
What hope of Mercy from this vengeful Foe?
But Woman-like to fall, and fall without a Blow.

11

Verse 167.

We greet not here as Man conversing Man,
Met at an Oak, or journeying o'er a Plain

, &c.]

The Words literally are these, “There is no talking with Achilles, απο δρυος ουδ' απο πετρης, from an Oak, or from a Rock, [or about an Oak or a Rock] as a young Man and a Maiden talk together. It is thought an obscure Passage, tho' I confess I am either too fond of my own Explication in the above-cited Verses, or they make it a very clear one. “There is no conversing with this implacable Enemy in the Rage of Battel; as when sauntring People talk at leisure to one another on the Road, or when young Men and Women meet in a Field.” I think the Exposition of Eustathius more farfetch'd, tho' it be ingenious; and therefore I must do him the Justice not to suppress it. It was a common Practice, says he, with the Heathens, to expose such Children as they either could not, or would not educate: The Places where they deposited them were usually in the Cavities of Rocks, or the Hollow of Oaks: These Children being frequently found and preserv'd by Strangers, were said to be the Offspring of those Oaks or Rocks where they were found. This gave occasion to the Poets to feign that Men were born of Oaks, and there was a famous Fable too of Deucalion and Pyrrha's repairing Mankind by casting Stones behind them: It grew at last into a Proverb, to signify idle Tales; so that in the present Passage it imports, that Achilles will not listen to such idle Tales as may pass with silly Maids and fond Lovers. For Fables and Stories (and particularly such Stories as the Preservation, strange Fortune, and Adventures of expos'd Children) are the usual Conversation of young Men and Maidens Eustathius his Explanation may be corroborated by a Parallel Place in the Odyssey; where the Poet says,

Ου γαρ απο δρυος εσσι παλαιφατου ουδ' απο πετρης.

The Meaning of which Passage is plainly this, Tell me of what Race you are, for undoubtedly you had a Father and Mother; you are not, according to the old Story, descended from an Oak or a Rock . Where the Word παλαιφατου shews that this was become an ancient Proverb even in Homer's Days.

We greet not here, as Man conversing Man

Met at an Oak, or journeying o'er a Plain;
No Season now for calm familiar Talk,
Like Youths and Maidens in an Evening Walk:
War is our Business; but to whom is giv'n
To die or triumph, that, determine Heav'n!
Thus pond'ring, like a God the Greek drew nigh;
His dreadful Plumage nodded from on high;
The Pelian Jav'lin, in his better Hand,
Shot trembling Rays that glitter'd o'er the Land;
And on his Breast the beamy Splendors shone
Like Jove's own Lightning, or the rising Sun.
As Hector sees, unusual Terrors rise,

Verse 180. Struck by some God, he fears, recedes, and flies.] I doubt not most Readers are shock'd at the Flight of Hector: It is indeed a high Exaltation of Achilles (which was the Poets chief Care, as he was his chief Hero) that so brave a Man as Hector durst not stand him. While Achilles was at a distance he had fortify'd his Heart with noble Resolutions, but at his approach they all vanish, and he flies. This (as exceptionable as some may think it) may yet be allow'd to be a true Portrait of human Nature; for Distance, as it lessens all Objects, so it does our Fears: But where inevitable Danger approaches, the stoutest Hearts will feel some Apprehensions at certain Fate. It was the Saying of one of the bravest Men in this Age, to one who told him he fear'd nothing, Shew me but a certain Danger, and I shall be as much afraid as any of you. I don't absolutely pretend to justify this Passage in every point, but only to have thus much granted me, that Hector was in this desperate Circumstance.

First, It will not be found in the whole Iliad, that Hector ever thought himself a Match for Achilles. Homer (to keep this in our Minds) had just now made Priam tell him (as a thing known, for certainly Priam would not insult him at that time) that there was no Comparison between his own Strength, and that of his Antagonist.

------ επειη πολυ φερτερος εστιν.

Secondly, we may observe with Dacier, the Degrees by which Homer prepares this Incident. In the 18th Book the mere Sight and Voice of Achilles, unarm'd, has terrify'd and put the whole Trojan Army into Disorder. In the 19th, the very Sound of the cœlestial Arms given him by Vulcan, has affrighted his own Myrmidons as they stand about him. In the 20th, he has been upon the point of killing Æneas, and Hector himself was not sav'd from him but by Apollo's interposing. In that and the following Book, he makes an incredible Slaughter of all that oppose him; he overtakes most of those that fly from him, and Priam himself opens the Gates of Troy to receive the rest.

Thirdly, Hector stays, not that he hopes to overcome Achilles, but because Shame and the dread of Reproach forbid him to re-enter the City; a Shame (says Eustathius) which was a Fault, that betray'd him out of his Life, and ruin'd his Countrey. Nay, Homer adds farther, that he only stay'd by the immediate Will of Heaven, intoxicated and irresistibly bound down by Fate.

Εκτορα δ' αυτου μειναι ολοη μοιρ' επεδησεν.

Fourthly, He had just been reflecting on the Injustice of the War he maintain'd; his Spirits are deprest by Heaven, he expects certain Death, he perceives himself abandon'd by the Gods; (as he directly says in V. 300, &c. of the Greek, and 385 of the translation) so that he might say to Achilles what Turnus does to Æneas,

Dii me terrent, & Jupiter hostis.

This indeed is the strongest Reason that can be offer'd for the Flight of Hector. He flies not from Achilles as a mortal Hero, but from one whom he sees clad in impenetrable Armour, seconded by Minerva, and one who had put to flight the inferior Gods themselves. This is not Cowardice according to the constant Principles of Homer, who thought it no part of a Hero's Character to be impious, or to fancy himself independent on the supreme Being.

Indeed it had been a grievous Fault, had our Author suffer'd the Courage of Hector entirely to forsake him even in this Extremity: A brave Man's Soul is still capable of rouzing itself, and acting honourably in the last Struggles. Accordingly Hector, tho' deliver'd over to his Destiny, abandon'd by the Gods, and certain of Death, yet stops and attacks Achilles; When he loses his Spear, he draws his Sword: It was impossible he should conquer, it was only in his Power to fall gloriously; this he did, and it was all that Man could do.

If the Reader, after all, cannot bring himself to like this Passage, for his own particular; yet to induce him to suspend his absolute Censure, he may consider that Virgil had an uncommon Esteem for it, as he has testify'd in transferring it almost entirely to the Death of Turnus; where there was no necessity of making use of the like Incidents: But doubtless, he was touch'd with this Episode, as with one of those which interest us most of the whole Iliad, by a Spectacle at once so terrible, and so deplorable. I must also add the Suffrage of Aristotle, who was so far from looking upon this Passage as ridiculous or blameable, that he esteem'd it marvellous and admirable. “The wonderful, says he, ought to have place in Tragedy, but still more in Epic Poetry, which proceeds in this Point even to the Unreasonable: For as in Epic Poems one sees not the Persons acting, so whatever passes the Bounds of Reason is proper to produce the admirable and the marvellous. For example, what Homer says of Hector pursued by Achilles, would appear ridiculous on the Stage; for the Spectators could not forbear laughing to see on one side the Greeks standing without any motion, and on the other; Achilles pursuing Hector, and making Signs to the Troops not to dart at him. But all this does not appear when we read the Poem: For what is wonderful is always agreeable, and as a proof of it, we find that they who relate any thing usually add something to the Truth, that it may the better please those who hear it.

The same great Critick vindicates this Passage in the Chapter following. “A Poet, says he, is inexcusable if he introduces such things as are impossible according to the Rules of Poetry: but this ceases to be a Fault, if by those means he attains to the End he propos'd; for he has then brought about what he intended: For example, if he renders by it any part of his Poem more astonishing or admirable. Such is the Place in the Iliad, where Achilles pursues Hector. Arist. Poet. chap. 25, 26.

Struck by some God, he fears, recedes, and flies.

He leaves the Gates, he leaves the Walls behind;
Achilles follows like the winged Wind.
Thus at the panting Dove a Falcon flies,
(The swiftest Racer of the liquid Skies)
Just when he holds or thinks he holds his Prey,
Obliquely wheeling thro' th'aerial Way;
With open Beak and shrilling Cries he springs,
And aims his Claws, and shoots upon his Wings:

12

No less fore-right the rapid Chace they held,
One urg'd by Fury, one by Fear impell'd;
Now circling round the Walls their Course maintain,
Where the high Watch-tow'r overlooks the Plain;
Now where the Fig-trees spread their Umbrage broad,
(A wider Compass) smoak along the Road.
Next by Scamander's double Source they bound,

Verse 197. Where two fam'd Fountains.] Strabo blames Homer for saying that one of the Sources of Scamander was a warm Fountain; whereas (says he) there is but one Spring, and that cold, neither is this in the Place where Homer fixes it, but in the Mountain. It is observ'd by Eustathius that tho' this was not true in Strabo's Days, yet it might in Homer's, greater Changes having happen'd in less time than that which pass'd between those two Authors. Sandys, who was both a Geographer and Critick of great Accuracy, as well as a Traveller of great Veracity, affirms as an Eye witness, that there are yet some Hot-water Springs in that part of the Country, opposite to Tenedos. I cannot but think that Gentleman must have been particularly diligent and curious in his Enquiries into the Remains of a Place so celebrated in Poetry; as he was not only perhaps the most learned, but one of the best Poets of his Time: I am glad of this occasion to do his Memory so much Justice as to say, the English Versification owes much of its Improvement to his Translations, and especially that admirable one of Job. What chiefly pleases me in this place, is to see the exact Landskip of old Troy, we have a clear Idea of the Town itself, and of the Roads and Countrey about it; the River, the Fig-trees, and every part is set before our Eyes.

Where two fam'd Fountains burst the parted Ground;

This hot thro' scorching Clefts is seen to rise,
With Exhalations steaming to the Skies;
That the green Banks in Summer's Heat o'erflows,
Like Crystal clear, and cold as Winter-Snows.
Each gushing Fount a marble Cistern fills,
Whose polish'd Bed receives the falling Rills;
Where Trojan Dames, (e'er yet alarm'd by Greece)
Wash'd their fair Garments in the Days of Peace.
By these they past, one chasing, one in Flight,
(The Mighty fled, pursu'd by stronger Might)
Swift was the Course; No vulgar Prize they play,
No vulgar Victim must reward the Day,
(Such as in Races crown the speedy Strife)
The Prize contended was great Hector's Life.

13

As when some Hero's Fun'rals are decreed:
In grateful Honour of the mighty Dead;
Where high Rewards the vig'rous Youth inflame,
(Some golden Tripod, or some lovely Dame)
The panting Coursers swiftly turn the Goal,
And with them turns the rais'd Spectator's Soul.
Thus three times round the Trojan Wall they fly;

Verse 219. The gazing Gods lean forward from the Skies.] We have here an Instance of the great Judgment of Homer. The Death of Hector being the chief Action of the Poem; he assembles the Gods, and calls a Council in Heaven concerning it: It is for the same Reason that he represents Jupiter with the greatest Solemnity weighing in his Scales the Fates of the two Heroes: I have before observ'd at large upon the last Circumstance in a preceding Note, so that there is no occasion to repeat it.

I wonder that none of the Commentators have taken notice of this Beauty; in my Opinion it is a very necessary Observation, and shews the Art and Judgment of the Poet, in that he has made the greatest and finishing Action of the Poem of such Importance that it engages the Gods in Debates.

The gazing Gods lean forward from the Sky:

To whom, while eager on the Chace they look,
The Sire of Mortals and Immortals spoke.
Unworthy Sight! The Man, belov'd of Heav'n,
Behold, inglorious round yon' City driv'n!
My Heart partakes the gen'rous Hector's Pain;
Hector, whose Zeal whole Hecatombs has slain,
Whose grateful Fumes the Gods receiv'd with Joy,

Verse 226. From Ida's Summits—] It was the Custom of the Pagans to sacrifice to the Gods upon the Hills and Mountains, in Scripture Language upon the high places, for they were persuaded that the Gods in a particular manner inhabited such Eminences: Wherefore God order'd his People to destroy all those high places, which the Nations had prophan'd by their Idolatry. You shall utterly destroy all the Places wherein the Nations which you shall possess served their Gods, upon the high Mountains, and upon the Hills, and under every green Tree. Deut. xii. 2. 'Tis for this Reason that so many Kings are reproach'd in Scripture for not taking away the high Places. Dacier.

From Ida's Summits, and the Tow'rs of Troy:

Now see him flying! to his Fears resign'd,
And Fate, and fierce Achilles, close behind.
Consult, ye Pow'rs! ('tis worthy your Debate)
Whether to snatch him from impending Fate,
Or let him bear, by stern Pelides slain,
(Good as he is) the Lot impos'd on Man?

14

Then Pallas thus: Shall he whose Vengeance forms
The forky Bolt, and blackens Heav'n with Storms,
Shall he prolong one Trojan's forfeit Breath!
A Man, a Mortal, pre-ordain'd to Death!
And will no Murmurs fill the Courts above,
No Gods indignant blame their partial Jove?
Go then (return'd the Sire) without delay,
Exert thy Will: I give the Fates their Way.
Swift at the Mandate pleas'd Tritonia flies,
And stoops impetuous from the cleaving Skies.
As thro' the Forest, o'er the Vale and Lawn,
The well-breath'd Beagle drives the flying Fawn;
In vain he tries the Covert of the Brakes,
Or deep beneath the trembling Thicket shakes;
Sure of the Vapour in the tainted Dews,
The certain Hound his various Maze pursues.

Verse 249. Thus Step by Step, &c.] There is some Difficulty in this Passage, and it seems strange that Achilles could not overtake Hector when he is allow'd to excel so much in Swiftness, especially when the Poet describes him as running in a narrower Circle than Hector: Eustathius gives us many Solutions from the Ancients: Homer has already told us that they run for the Life of Hector; and consequently Hector would exert his utmost Speed, whereas Achilles might only endeavour to keep him from entring the City: Besides, Achilles could not directly pursue him, because he frequently made Efforts to shelter himself under the Wall, and he being oblig'd to turn him from it, he might be forced to take more Steps than Hector; but the Poet to take away all Grounds of an Objection, tells us afterwards, that Apollo gave him a supernatural Swiftness.

Thus step by step, where'er the Trojan wheel'd,

There swift Achilles compass'd round the Field.
Oft' as to reach the Dardan Gates he bends,
And hopes th'Assistance of his pitying Friends,
(Whose show'ring Arrows, as he cours'd below,
From the high Turrets might oppress the Foe.)

15

So oft' Achilles turns him to the Plain:
He eyes the City, but he eyes in vain.

Verse 251. As Men in Slumbers.] This beautiful Comparison has been condemn'd by some of the Ancients, even so far as to judge it unworthy of having a Place in the Iliad: They say the Diction is mean, and the Similitude itself absurd, because it compares the Swiftness of the Heroes to Men asleep, who are in a state of Rest and Inactivity; but surely there cannot be a more groundless Criticism: The Poet is so far from drawing his Comparison from the Repose of Men asleep, that he alludes only to their Dreams: It is a Race in fancy that he describes; and surely the Imagination is nimble enough to illustrate the greatest Degree of Swiftness: Besides the Verses themselves run with the utmost Rapidity, and imitate the Swiftness they describe. Eustathius.

What sufficiently proves these Verses to be genuine, is, that Virgil has imitated them, Æn. 12.

Ac veluti in somnis ------
As Men in Slumbers seem with speedy pace,

One to pursue, and one to lead the Chace,
Their sinking Limbs the fancy'd Course forsake,
Nor this can fly, nor that can overtake.
No less the lab'ring Heroes pant and strain;
While that but flies, and this pursues, in vain.
What God, O Muse! assisted Hector's Force,
With Fate itself so long to hold the Course?
Phœbus it was; who, in his latest Hour,
Endu'd his Knees with strength, his Nerves with Pow'r:
And great Achilles, lest some Greek's Advance
Should snatch the Glory from his lifted Lance,

Verse 270. Sign'd to the Troops, &c.] The Difference which Homer here makes between Hector and Achilles deserves to be taken notice of; Hector in running away towards the Walls, to the end that the Trojans who are upon them may overwhelm Achilles with their Darts; and Achilles in turning Hector towards the Plain, makes a Sign to his Troops not to attack him. This shews the great Courage of Achilles; and yet this Action which appears so generous has been very much condemn'd by the Ancients; Plutarch in the Life of Pompey gives us to understand, that it was look'd upon as the Action of a Fool too greedy of Glory: Indeed this is not a single Combat of Achilles against Hector, (for in that case Achilles would have done very ill not to hinder his Troops from assaulting him) this was a Rencounter in a Battel, and so Achilles might, and ought to take all Advantage to rid himself, the readiest and the surest way, of an Enemy whose Death would procure an entire Victory to his Party. Wherefore does he leave this Victory to Chance? Why expose himself to the Hazard of losing it? Why does he prefer his private Glory to the publick Weal, and the Safety of all the Greeks, which he puts to the venture by delaying to conquer, and endangering his own Person? I grant it is a Fault, but it must be own'd to be the Fault of a Hero. Eustathius. Dacier.

Sign'd to the Troops, to yield his Foe the Way,

And leave untouch'd the Honours of the Day.
Jove lifts the golden Balances, that show
The Fates of mortal Men, and things below:
Here each contending Hero's Lot he tries,
And weighs, with equal Hand, their Destinies.
Low sinks the Scale surcharg'd with Hector's Fate;
Heavy with Death it sinks, and Hell receives the Weight.

16

Verse 278. Then Phœbus left him—] This is a very beautiful and poetical manner of describing a plain Circumstance: The Hour of Hector's Death was now come, and the Poet expresses it by saying that Apollo, or Destiny, forsakes him; That is, the Fates no longer protect him. Eustathius.

Verse id.Fierce Minerva flies to stern Pelides , &c.] The Poet may seem to diminish the Glory of Achilles, by ascribing the Victory over Hector to the Assistance of Pallas; whereas in truth he fell by the Hand only of Achilles: But Poetry loves to raise every thing into a Wonder; it steps out of the common Road of Narration, and aims to surprize; and the Poet would farther insinuate that it is a greater Glory to Achilles to be belov'd by the Gods, than to be only excellent in Valour: For many Men have Valour, but few the Favour of Heaven. Eustathius.

Then Phœbus left him. Fierce Minerva flies

To stern Pelides, and triumphing, cries.
Oh lov'd of Jove! this Day our Labours cease,
And Conquest blazes with full Beams on Greece.
Great Hector falls; that Hector fam'd so far,
Drunk with Renown, insatiable of War,
Falls by thy Hand, and mine! Nor Force, nor Flight
Shall more avail him, nor his God of Light.
See, where in vain he supplicates above,
Roll'd at the Feet of unrelenting Jove!
Rest here: My self will lead the Trojan on,
And urge to meet the Fate he cannot shun.
Her Voice divine the Chief with joyful Mind

Verse 291. Obey'd and rested.] The whole Passage where Pallas deceives Hector is evidently an Allegory: Achilles perceiving that he cannot overtake Hector, pretends to be quite spent and wearied in the Pursuit; the Stratagem takes effect, and recalls his Enemy: This the Poet expresses by saying that Pallas, or Wisdom, came to assist Achilles. Hector observing his Enemy stay to rest concludes that he is quite fatigued, and immediately takes Courage and advances upon him; he thinks he has him at an Advantage, but at last finds himself deceiv'd: Thus making a wrong Judgment he is betray'd into his Death; so that his own false Judgment is the treacherous Pallas that deceives him. Eustathius.

Obey'd; and rested, on his Lance reclin'd.

While like Deïphobus the martial Dame
(Her Face, her Gesture, and her Arms the same)
In show an Aid, by hapless Hector's Side
Approach'd, and greets him thus with Voice bely'd.
Too long, O Hector! have I born the Sight
Of this Distress, and sorrow'd in thy Flight:
It fits us now a noble Stand to make,
And here, as Brothers, equal Fates partake.

17

Then he. O Prince! ally'd in Blood and Fame,
Dearer than all that own a Brother's Name;
Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore,
Long try'd, long lov'd; much lov'd, but honour'd more!
Since You of all our num'rous Race, alone
Defend my Life regardless of your own.
Again the Goddess. Much my Father's Pray'r,
And much my Mother's, prest me to forbear:
My Friends embrac'd my Knees, adjur'd my stay,
But stronger Love impell'd, and I obey.
Come then the glorious Conflict let us try,
Let the Steel sparkle, and the Jav'lin fly:
Or let us stretch Achilles on the Field,
Or to his Arm our bloody Trophies yield.
Fraudful she said; then swiftly march'd before;
The Dardan Hero shuns his Foe no more.
Sternly they met. The Silence Hector broke;
His dreadful Plumage nodded as he spoke.

Verse 317. The Speeches of Hector, and of Achilles .] There is an Opposition between these Speeches excellently adapted to the Characters of both the Heroes: That of Hector is full of Courage, but mixt with Humanity: That of Achilles, of Resentment and Arrogance: We see the great Hector disposing of his own Remains, and that Thirst of Glory which has made him live with Honour, now bids him provide, as Eustathius observes, that what once was Hector may not de dishonour'd: Thus we see a sedate, calm courage, with a Contempt of Death, in the Speeches of Hector. But in that of Achilles there is a Fiertè, and an insolent Air of Superiority; his Magnanimity makes him scorn to steal a Victory, he bids him prepare to defend himself with all his Forces, and that Valour and Resentment which made him desirous that he might revenge himself upon Hector with his own Hand, and forbade the Greeks to interpose, now directs him not to take any Advantage over a brave Enemy. I think both their Characters are admirably sustain'd, and tho' Achilles be drawn with a great Violence of Features, yet the Picture is undoubtedly like him; and it had been the utmost Absurdity to have soften'd one Line upon this Occasion, when the Soul of Achilles was all on fire to revenge the Death of his Friend Patroclus. I must desire the Reader to carry this Observation in his Memory, and particularly in that place, where Achilles says he could eat the very Flesh of Hector; (tho' I have a little soften'd it in the Translation) V. 438.

Enough, O Son of Peleus! Troy has view'd

Her Walls thrice circled, and her Chief pursu'd.
But now some God within me bids me try
Thine, or my Fate: I kill thee, or I die.

18

Yet on the Verge of Battel let us stay,
And for a Moment's space, suspend the Day:
Let Heav'ns high Pow'rs be call'd to arbitrate
The just Conditions of this stern Debate.
(Eternal Witnesses of all below,
And faithful Guardians of the treasur'd Vow!)
To them I swear; if Victor in the Strife
Jove by these Hands shall shed thy noble Life;
No vile Dishonour shall thy Corse pursue;
Stript of its Arms alone (the Conqu'rors Due)
The rest to Greece uninjur'd I'll restore:
Now plight thy mutual Oath, I ask no more.
Talk not of Oaths (the dreadful Chief replies,
While Anger flash'd from his disdainful Eyes)
Detested as thou art, and ought to be,
Nor Oath nor Pact Achilles plights with thee:
Such Pacts, as Lambs and rabid Wolves combine,
Such Leagues, as Men and furious Lions join,
To such I call the Gods! One constant state
Of lashing Rancour and eternal Hate:
No Thought but Rage, and never-ceasing Strife,
Till Death extinguish Rage, and Thought, and Life.

19

Rouze then thy Forces this important Hour;
Collect thy Soul, and call forth all thy Pow'r.
No farther Subterfuge, no farther Chance;
'Tis Pallas, Pallas gives thee to my Lance.
Each Grecian Ghost by thee depriv'd of Breath,
Now hovers round, and calls thee to thy Death.
He spoke, and lanch'd his Jav'lin at the Foe;
But Hector shun'd the meditated Blow:
He stoop'd, while o'er his Head the flying Spear
Sung innocent, and spent its Force in Air.
Minerva watch'd it falling on the Land,
Then drew, and gave to great Achilles' Hand,
Unseen of Hector, who, elate with Joy,
Now shakes his Lance, and braves the Dread of Troy.
The Life you boasted to that Jav'lin giv'n,
Prince! you have mist My Fate depends on Heav'n.
To thee (presumptuous as thou art) unknown,
Or what must prove my Fortune or thy own.
Boasting is but an Art, our Fears to blind,
And with false Terrors sink another's Mind.
But know, whatever Fate I am to try,
By no dishonest Wound shall Hector die;

20

I shall not fall a Fugitive at least,
My Soul shall bravely issue from my Breast.
But first, try thou my Arm; and may this Dart
End all my Country's Woes, deep buried in thy Heart!
The Weapon flew, its Course unerring held,
Unerring, but the heav'nly Shield repell'd
The mortal Dart; resulting with a Bound
From off the ringing Orb, it struck the Ground.
Hector beheld his Jav'lin fall in vain,
Nor other Lance, nor other Hope remain;
He calls Deïphobus, demands a Spear,
In vain, for no Deïphobus was there.
All comfortless he stands: Then, with a Sigh,
'Tis so—Heav'n wills it, and my Hour is nigh!
I deem'd Deïphobus had heard my Call,
But he secure lyes guarded in the Wall.
A God deceiv'd me; Pallas, 'twas thy Deed.
Death, and black Fate approach! 'Tis I must bleed.
No Refuge now, no Succour from above;
Great Jove deserts me, and the Son of Jove,
Propitious once, and kind! Then welcome Fate!
'Tis true I perish, yet I perish great:

21

Yet in a mighty Deed I shall expire,
Let future Ages hear it, and admire!
Fierce, at the Word, his weighty Sword he drew
And, all collected, on Achilles flew.

Verse 391. So Jove's bold Bird, &c.] The Poet takes up some time in describing the two great Heroes before they close in Fight: The Verses are pompous and magnificent, and he illustrates his Description with two beautiful Similes: He makes a double use of this Conduct; he not only raises our Imagination to attend to so momentous an Action, but by lengthening his Narration he keeps the Mind in a pleasing Suspense, and divides it between Hopes and Fears for the Fate of Hector or Achilles.

So Jove's bold Bird, high-balanc'd in the Air,

Stoops from the Clouds to truss the quiv'ring Hare.
Nor less Achilles his fierce Soul prepares;
Before his Breast his flaming Shield he bears,
Refulgent Orb! Above his four-fold Cone
The gilded Horsehair sparkled in the Sun,
Nodding at ev'ry Step: (Vulcanian Frame!)
And as he mov'd, his Figure seem'd on flame.
As radiant Hesper shines with keener Light,
Far-beaming o'er the silver Host of Night,
When all the starry Train emblaze the Sphere:
So shone the Point of great Achilles' Spear.
In his right Hand he waves the Weapon round,
Eyes the whole Man, and meditates the Wound;
But the rich Mail Patroclus lately wore,
Securely cas'd the Warrior's Body o'er.
One place at length he spies, to let in Fate,
Where 'twixt the Neck and Throat the jointed Plate

22

Verse 409. Thro' that penetrable Part furious he drove, &c.] It was necessary that the Poet shou'd be very particular in this Point, because the Arms that Hector wore, were the Arms of Achilles, taken from Patroclus; and consequently, as they were the Work of Vulcan, they would preserve Hector from the Possibility of a Wound: The Poet therefore to give an Air of Probability to his Story, tells us that they were Patroclus his Arms, and as they were not made for Hector, they might not exactly fit his Body: So that it is not improbable but there might be some place about the Neck of Hector so open as to admit the Spear of Achilles. Eustathius.

Gave entrance: Thro' that penetrable Part

Furious he drove the well-directed Dart:
Nor pierc'd the Windpipe yet, nor took the Pow'r
Of Speech, Unhappy! from thy dying Hour.
Prone on the Field the bleeding Warrior lies,
While thus triumphing, stern Achilles cries.
At last is Hector stretch'd upon the Plain,
Who fear'd no Vengeance for Patroclus slain:
Then Prince! you should have fear'd, what now you feel;
Achilles absent, was Achilles still.
Yet a short space the great Avenger stay'd,
Then low in Dust thy Strength and Glory lay'd.
Peaceful He sleeps, with all our Rites adorn'd,
For ever honour'd, and for ever mourn'd:
While cast to all the Rage of hostile Pow'r,
Thee, Birds shall mangle, and the Dogs devour.
Then Hector, fainting at th'approach of Death.
By thy own Soul! by those who gave thee Breath!
By all the sacred Prevalence of Pray'r;
Ah, leave me not for Grecian Dogs to tear!
The common Rites of Sepulture bestow,
To sooth a Father's and a Mother's Woe;

23

Let their large Gifts procure an Urn at least,
And Hector's Ashes in his Country rest.
No, Wretch accurst! Relentless he replies,
(Flames, as he spoke, shot flashing from his Eyes)
Not those who gave me Breath shou'd bid me spare,
Nor all the sacred Prevalence of Pray'r.

Verse 438. Could I my self the bloody Banquet join!] I have before hinted that there is something very fierce and violent in this Passage; but I fancy that what I there observ'd will justify Homer in his Relation, tho' not Achilles in his savage Sentiments: Yet the Poet softens the Expression by saying that Achilles only wishes that his Heart would permit him to devour him: This is much more tolerable than a Passage in the Thebais of Statius, where Tydeus in the very Pangs of Death is represented as knawing the Head of his Enemy.

Could I my self the bloody Banquet join!

No—to the Dogs that Carcase I resign.

Verse 440. Should Troy, to bribe me, &c.] Such Resolutions as Achilles here makes, are very natural to Men in Anger; he tells Hector that no Motives shall ever prevail with him to suffer his Body to be ransom'd; yet when Time had cool'd his Heat, and he had somewhat satisfy'd his Revenge by insulting his Remains, he restores them to Priam, this perfectly agrees with his Conduct in the ninth Book, where at first he gives a rough Denial, and afterwards softens into an easier Temper. And this is very agreeable to the Nature of Achilles; his Anger abates very slowly; it is stubborn, yet still it remits: Had the Poet drawn him as never to be pacify'd, he had outrag'd Nature, and not represented his Hero as a Man, but as a Monster. Eustathius.

Shou'd Troy, to bribe me, bring forth all her Store,

And giving thousands, offer thousands more;
Should Dardan Priam, and the weeping Dame
Drain their whole Realm to buy one fun'ral Flame;
Their Hector on the Pile they should not see,
Nor rob the Vultures of one Limb of thee.
Then thus the Chief his dying Accents drew;
Thy Rage, Implacable! too well I knew:
The Furies that relentless Breast have steel'd,
And curs'd thee with a Heart that cannot yield.

Verse 450. A Day will come—] Hector prophesies at his Death that Achilles shall fall by the Hand of Paris. This confirms an Observation made in a former Note, that the Words of dying Men were look'd upon as Prophecies; but whether such Conjectures are true or false, it appears from hence, that such Opinions have prevail'd in the World above three thousand Years.

Yet think, a Day will come, when Fate's Decree

And angry Gods, shall wreak this Wrong on thee;
Phœbus and Paris shall avenge my Fate,
And stretch thee here, before this Scæan Gate.

24

He ceas'd. The Fates supprest his lab'ring Breath,
And his Eyes stiffen'd at the Hand of Death;
To the dark Realm the Spirit wings its Way,
(The manly Body left a Load of Clay)
And plaintive glides along the dreary Coast,
A naked, wandring, melancholy Ghost!
Achilles, musing as he roll'd his eyes
O'er the dead Hero, thus (unheard) replies.
Die thou the first! When Jove and Heav'n ordain,
I follow thee—He said, and stripp'd the Slain.
Then forcing backward from the gaping Wound
The reeking Jav'lin, cast it on the Ground.
The thronging Greeks behold with wond'ring Eyes
His manly Beauty, and superiour Size:

Verse 468. The great Dead deface with Wounds, &c.] Eustathius tells us that Homer introduces the Soldiers wounding the dead Body of Hector, in order to mitigate the Cruelties which Achilles exercises upon his Body: For if every common Soldier takes a Pride in giving him a Wound, what Insults may we not expect from the inexorable, inflam'd Achilles? But I must confess myself unable to vindicate the Poet in giving us such an Idea of his Countreymen. I think the former Courage of their Enemy should have been so far from moving them to Revenge, that it should have recommended him to their Esteem: What Achilles afterwards acts is suitable to his Character, and consequently the Poet is justify'd; but surely all the Greeks were not of his Temper? Patroclus was not so dear to them all, as he was to Achilles. 'Tis true the Poet represents Achilles, (as Eustathius observes) enumerating the many Ills they had suffer'd from Hector; and he seems to endeavour to infect the whole Army with his Resentment. Had Hector been living, they had been acted by a generous Indignation against him: But these Men seem as if they only dared approach him dead; in short, what they say over his Body is a mean Insult, and the Stabs they give it are cowardly and barbarous.

While some ignobler, the great Dead deface

With Wounds ungen'rous, or with Taunts disgrace.
“How chang'd that Hector! who like Jove of late,
“Sent Lightning on our Fleets, and scatter'd Fate?
High o'er the Slain the great Achilles stands,
Begirt with Heroes, and surrounding Bands;
And thus aloud, while all the Host attends.

Verse 474. The Speech of Achilles .] We have a very fine Observation of Eustathius on this Place, that the Judgment and Address of Homer here is extreamly worthy of Remark: He knew, and had often said, that the Gods and Fate had not granted Achilles the Glory of taking Troy: There was then no reason to make him march against the Town after the Death of Hector, since all his Efforts must have been ineffectual. What has the Poet done in this Conjuncture? It was but reasonable that the first Thought of Achilles should be to march directly to Troy, and to profit himself of the general Consternation into which the Death of Hector had thrown the Trojans. We here see he knows the Duty, and does not want the Ability, of a great General; but after this on a sudden he changes his Design, and derives a plausible Pretence from the Impatience he has to pay the last Devoirs to his Friend. The Manners of Achilles, and what he has already done for Patroclus, make this very natural. At the same time, this turning off to the tender and pathetick has a fine Effect; the Reader in the very Fury of the Hero's Vengeance, perceives, that Achilles is still a Man, and capable of softer Passions.

Princes and Leaders! Countrymen and Friends!


25

Since now at length the pow'rful Will of Heav'n
The dire Destroyer to our Arm has giv'n,
Is not Troy fall'n already? Haste, ye Pow'rs!
See, if already their deserted Tow'rs
Are left unman'd; or if they yet retain
The Souls of Heroes, their great Hector slain?
But what is Troy, or Glory what to me?
Or why reflects my Mind on ought but thee
Divine Patroclus! Death has seal'd his Eyes;
Unwept, unhonour'd, uninterr'd he lies!
Can his dear Image from my Soul depart,
Long as the vital Spirit moves my Heart?
If, in the silent Shades of Hell below,
The Flames of Friends and Lovers cease to glow,
Yet mine shall sacred last; mine, undecay'd,
Burn on thro' Death, and animate my Shade.
Meanwhile ye Sons of Greece! in Triumph bring
The Corps of Hector, and your Pæans sing.
Be this the Song, slow-moving tow'rd the Shore,

Verse 494. Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more.] I have follow'd the Opinion of Eustathius, who thought that what Achilles says here was the Chorus or Burden of a Song of Triumph, in which his Troops bear a part with him, as he returns from this glorious Combate. Dacier observes that this is very correspondent to the Manners of those Times; and instances in that Passage of the Book of Kings, when David returns from the Conquest of Goliah: The Women there go out to meet him from all the Cities of Israel, and sing a triumphal Song, the Chorus whereof is, Saul has kill'd his Thousands, and David his ten Thousands.

Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more.

Then his fell Soul a Thought of Vengeance bred,

Verse 496.] Unworthy of himself, and of the Dead.] This Inhumanity of Achilles in dragging the dead Body of Hector, has been severely (and I think indeed not without some Justice) censur'd by several both Ancients and Moderns. Plato in his third Book de Republica, speaks of it with Detestation: But methinks it is a great Injustice to Homer to reflect upon the Morals of the Author himself, for things which he only paints as the Manners of a vicious Hero.

It may justly be observ'd in general of all Plato's Objections against Homer, that they are still in a View to Morality, constantly blaming him for representing ill and immoral Things as the Opinions or Actions of his Persons. To every one of these one general Answer will serve, which is, that Homer as often describes ill things, in order to make us avoid them, as good, to induce us to follow them (which is the Case with all Writers whatever.) But what is extremely remarkable, and evidently shews the Injustice of Plato's Censure is, that many of those very Actions for which he blames him are expressly characterized and marked by Homer himself as evil and detestable, by previous Expressions or Cautions. Thus in the present Place, before he describes this Barbarity of Achilles, he tells us it was a most unworthy Action.

------ και Εκτορα διον αεικεα μηδετο ερτα.

When Achilles sacrifices the twelve young Trojans in l. 23. he repeats the same Words. When Pandarus broke the Truce in l. 4. he told us it was a mad, unjust Deed,

------ τω δε φρενας αφρονι πειθεν.

And so of the rest.

(Unworthy of himself, and of the Dead)


26

The nervous Ancles bor'd, his Feet he bound
With Thongs inserted thro' the double Wound;
These fix'd up high behind the rolling Wain,
His graceful Head was trail'd along the Plain.
Proud on his Car th'insulting Victor stood,
And bore aloft his Arms, distilling Blood.
He smites the Steeds; the rapid Chariot flies;
The sudden Clouds of circling Dust arise.
Now lost is all that formidable Air;

Verse 506. The Face divine, and long-descending Hair.] It is impossible to read the Actions of great Men without having our Curiosity rais'd to know the least Circumstance that relates to them: Homer to satisfy it, has taken care in the Process of his Poem to give us the Shape of his Heroes, and the very Colour of their Hair; thus he has told us that Achilles's Locks were yellow, and here the Epithet Κυανεαι shews us that those of Hector were of a darker Colour: As to his Person, he told us a little above that it was so handsome that all the Greeks were surpriz'd to see it. Plutarch recites a remarkable Story of the Beauty of Hector: It was reported in Lacedæmon, that a handsome Youth who very much resembled Hector, was arriv'd there; immediately the whole City run in such Numbers to behold him, that he was trampled to Death by the Crowd. Eustathius.

The Face divine, and long-descending Hair

Purple the Ground, and streak the sable Sand;
Deform'd, dishonour'd, in his native Land!
Giv'n to the Rage of an insulting Throng!
And, in his Parent's Sight, now dragg'd along!
The Mother first beheld with sad survey;
She rent her Tresses, venerably grey,
And cast, far off, the regal Veils away.
With piercing Shrieks his bitter Fate she moans,
While the sad Father answers Groans with Groans,
Tears after Tears his mournful Cheeks o'erflow,
And the whole City wears one Face of Woe.

27

No less, than if the Rage of hostile Fires
From her Foundations curling to her Spires,
O'er the proud Citadel at length should rise,
And the last Blaze send Ilion to the Skies.
The wretched Monarch of the falling State
Distracted, presses to the Dardan Gate.
Scarce the whole People stop his desp'rate Course,
While strong Affliction gives the Feeble Force:
Grief tears his Heart, and drives him to and fro,
In all the raging Impotence of Woe.
At length he roll'd in Dust, and thus begun:
Imploring all, and naming one by one.
Ah! let me, let me go where Sorrow calls;
I, only I, will issue from your Walls,
(Guide or Companion, Friends! I ask ye none)
And bow before the Murd'rer of my Son.
My Griefs perhaps his Pity may engage;
Perhaps at least he may respect my Age.
He has a Father too; a Man like me,
One, not exempt from Age and Misery,
(Vig'rous no more, as when his young Embrace
Begot this Pest of me, and all my Race.)

28

How many valiant Sons, in early Bloom,
Has that curst Hand sent headlong to the Tomb?
Thee, Hector! last: Thy Loss (divinely brave)

Verse 543. Sinks my sad Soul with Sorrow to the Grave.] It is in the Greek

Ου μ' αχος οξυ κατοισεται αιδος εισω.

It is needless to observe to the Reader with what a beautiful Pathos the wretched Father laments his Son Hector: It is impossible not to join with Priam in his Sorrows. But what I would chiefly point out to my Reader, is the Beauty of this Line, which is particularly tender, and almost Word for Word the same with that of the Patriarch Jacob; who upon a like Occasion breaks out into the same Complaint, and tells his Children, that if they deprive him of his Son Benjamin, they will bring down his grey Hairs with Sorrow to the Grave.

Sinks my sad Soul with Sorrow to the Grave.

Oh had thy gentle Spirit past in Peace,
The Son expiring in the Sire's Embrace;
While both thy Parents wept thy fatal Hour,
And bending o'er thee, mix'd the tender Show'r!
Some Comfort that had been, some sad Relief,
To melt in full Satiety of Grief!
Thus wail'd the Father, grov'ling on the Ground,
And all the Eyes of Ilion stream'd around.
Amidst her Matrons Hecuba appears,
(A mourning Princess, and a Train in Tears)
Ah why has Heav'n prolong'd this hated Breath,
Patient of Horrors, to behold thy Death?
O Hector, late thy Parents Pride and Joy,
The Boast of Nations! the Defence of Troy!
To whom her Safety and her Fame she ow'd,
Her Chief, her Hero, and almost her God!
O fatal Change! become in one sad Day
A senseless Corps! inanimated Clay!

29

But not as yet the fatal News had spread

Verse 563, &c.] The Grief of Andromache, which is painted in the following Part, is far beyond all the Praises that can be given it; but I must take notice of one Particular which shews the great Art of the Poet. In order to make the Wife of Hector appear yet more afflicted than his Parents, he has taken care to encrease her Affliction by Surprize: It is finely prepar'd by the Circumstances of her being retir'd to her innermost Apartment, of her Employment in weaving a Robe for her Husband (as may be conjectur'd from what she says afterward, V. 657.) and of her Maids preparing the Bath for his Return: All which (as the Criticks have observ'd) augment the Surprize, and render this Reverse of Fortune much more dreadful and afflicting.

To fair Andromache, of Hector dead;

As yet no Messenger had told his Fate,
Nor ev'n his Stay without the Scæan Gate.
Far in the close Recesses of the Dome,
Pensive she ply'd the melancholy Loom;
A growing Work employ'd her secret Hours,
Confus'dly gay with intermingled Flowr's.
Her fair-hair'd Handmaids heat the brazen Urn,
The Bath preparing for her Lord's Return:
In vain: Alas! her Lord returns no more!
Unbath'd he lies, and bleeds along the Shore!
Now from the Walls the Clamours reach her Ear,
And all her Members shake with sudden Fear;
Forth from her Iv'ry Hand the Shuttle falls,
As thus, astonish'd, to her Maids she calls.
Ah follow me! (she cry'd) what plaintive Noise
Invades my Ear? 'Tis sure my Mother's Voice.
My falt'ring Knees their trembling Frame desert,
A Pulse unusual flutters at my Heart.
Some strange Disaster, some reverse of Fate
Ye (Gods avert it) threats the Trojan State.

30

Far be the Omen which my Thoughts suggest!
But much I fear my Hector's dauntless Breast
Confronts Achilles; chas'd along the Plain,
Shut from our Walls! I fear, I fear him slain!
Safe in the Crowd he ever scorn'd to wait,
And sought for Glory in the Jaws of Fate:
Perhaps that noble Heat has cost his Breath,
Now quench'd for ever in the Arms of Death.
She spoke; and furious, with distracted Pace,
Fears in her Heart, and Anguish in her Face,
Flies thro' the Dome, (the Maids her Steps pursue)
And mounts the Walls, and sends around her View.
Too soon her Eyes the killing Object found,
The god-like Hector dragg'd along the Ground.
A sudden Darkness shades her swimming Eyes:
She faints, she falls; her Breath, her Colour flies.

Verse 600. Her Hair's fair Ornaments.] Eustathius remarks, that in speaking of Andromache and Hecuba, Homer expatiates upon the Ornaments of Dress in Andromache, because she was a beautiful young Princess; but is very concise about that of Hecuba, because she was old, and wore a Dress rather suitable to her Age and Gravity, than to her State, Birth, and Condition. I cannot pass over a Matter of such Importance as a young Lady's Dress, without endeavouring to explain what sort of Heads were worn above three thousand Years ago.

It is difficult to describe particularly every Ornament mention'd by the Poet, but I shall lay before my female Readers the Bishop's Explanation. The Αμπυξ was used, το τας εμπροσθιας τριχας αναδειν, that is, to tye backwards the Hair that grew on the fore-part of the Head; The Κεκρυφαλος was a Veil of Network that cover'd the Hair when it was so ty'd: Αναδεσμη was an Ornament us'd κυκλω περι τους κροταφους αναδειν, to tye backwards the Hair that grew on the Temples; and the Κρηδεμνον was a Fillet, perhaps embroider'd with Gold, (from the Expression of Χρυση Αφροδιτη) that bound the whole, and compleated the Dress.

The Ladies cannot but be pleas'd to see so much Learning and Greek upon this important Subject.

Homer is in nothing more excellent than in that Distinction of Characters which he maintains thro' his whole Poem: What Andromache here says, can be spoken properly by none but Andromache: There is nothing general in her Sorrows, nothing that can be transfer'd to another Character: The Mother laments the Son, and the Wife weeps over the Husband.

Her Hair's fair Ornaments, the Braids that bound,

The Net that held them, and the Wreath that crown'd,
The Veil and Diadem, flew far away;
(The Gift of Venus on her bridal Day)
Around, a Train of weeping Sisters stands,
To raise her sinking with assistant Hands.

31

Scarce from the Verge of Death recall'd, again
She faints, or but recovers to complain.
O wretched Husband of a wretched Wife!
Born with one Fate, to one unhappy Life!
For sure one Star its baneful Beam display'd
On Priam's Roof, and Hippoplacia's Shade.
From diff'rent Parents, diff'rent Climes we came,
At diff'rent Periods, yet our Fate the same!
Why was my Birth to great Aëtion ow'd,
And why was all that tender Care bestow'd?
Would I had never been!—O thou, the Ghost
Of my dead Husband! miserably lost!
Thou to the dismal Realms for ever gone!
And I abandon'd, desolate, alone!
An only Child, once Comfort of my Pains,
Sad Product now of hapless Love, remains!
No more to smile upon his Sire! no Friend
To help him now! No Father to defend!
For should he 'scape the Sword, the common Doom,
What Wrongs attend him, and what Griefs to come?
Ev'n from his own paternal Roof expell'd,
Some Stranger plows his patrimonial Field.

Verse 628. The Day that to the Shades, &c.] The following Verses, which so finely describe the Condition of an Orphan, have been rejected by some ancient Criticks: It is a Proof there were always Criticks of no manner of Taste; it being impossible any where to meet with a more exquisite Passage. I will venture to say, there are not in all Homer any Lines more worthy of him: The Beauty of this tender and Compassionate Image is such, that it even makes amends for the many cruel ones, with which the Iliad is too much stained. These Censurers imagined this Description to be of too abject and mean a Nature for one of the Quality of Astyanax; but had they consider'd (says Eustathius) that these are the Words of a fond Mother who fear'd every thing for her Son, that Women are by Nature timorous and think all Misfortunes will happen, because there is a Possibility that they may; that Andromache is in the very height of her Sorrows, in the Instant she is speaking; I fancy they would have alter'd their Opinion.

It is undoubtedly an Aggravation to our Misfortunes when they sink us in a Moment from the highest flow of Prosperity to the lowest Adversity: The Poet judiciously makes use of this Circumstance, the more to excite our Pity, and introduces the Mother with the utmost Tenderness, lamenting this Reverse of Fortune in her Son; chang'd all at once into a Slave, a Beggar, an Orphan! Have we not Examples in our own Times of such unhappy Princes, whose Condition renders this of Astyanax but too probable?

The Day, that to the Shades the Father sends,

Robs the sad Orphan of his Father's Friends:

32

He, wretched Outcast of Mankind! appears
For ever sad, for ever bath'd in Tears;
Amongst the Happy, unregarded he,
Hangs on the Robe, or trembles at the Knee,
While those his Father's former bounty fed,
Nor reach the Goblet, nor divide the Bread:
The Kindest but his present Wants allay,
To leave him wretched the succeeding Day.
Frugal Compassion! Heedless they who boast
Both Parents still, nor feel what he has lost,
Shall cry, “Begone! Thy Father feasts not here:
The Wretch obeys, retiring with a Tear.
Thus wretched, thus retiring all in Tears,
To my sad Soul Astyanax appears!
Forc'd by repeated Insults to return,
And to his widow'd Mother vainly mourn.
He, who with tender Delicacy bred,

Verse 647. On Dainties fed.] It is in the Greek, “Who upon his Father's Knees us'd to eat Marrow and the Fat of Sheep. This would seem gross if it were literally translated, but it is a figurative Expression; and in the Style of the Orientals, Marrow and Fatness are taken for whatever is best, tenderest, and most delicious. Thus in Job xxi. 24. Viscera ejus plena sunt adipe & medullis ossa ejus irrigantur. And xxxvi. 16. Requies autem mensæ tuæ erit plena pinguedine. In Jer. xxxi. 14. God says, that he will satiate the Soul of the Priests with Fatness. Inebriabo animam Sacerdotum pinguedine. Dacier.

With Princes sported, and on Dainties fed,

And when still Ev'ning gave him up to Rest,
Sunk soft in Down upon the Nurse's Breast,
Must—ah what must he not? Whom Ilion calls
Astyanax, from her well-guarded Walls,
Is now that Name no more, unhappy Boy!
Since now no more the Father guards his Troy.

33

But thou my Hector ly'st expos'd in Air,
Far from thy Parent's and thy Consort's Care,
Whose Hand in vain, directed by her Love,

Verse 657. The martial Scarf and Robe of Triumph wove.] This Idea very naturally offers itself to a Woman, who represents to herself the Body of her Husband dash'd to pieces, and all his Limbs dragg'd upon the Ground uncover'd; and nothing is more proper to excite Pity. 'Tis well known that it was anciently the Custom among Princesses and great Ladies to have large Quantities of Stuffs and Moveables. This Provision was more necessary in those Times than now, because of the great Consumption made of them on those Occasions of Mourning. Dacier.

I am of Opinion that Homer had a farther View in expatiating thus largely upon the Death of Hector. Every Word that Hecuba, Priam, and Andromache speaks, shews us the Importance of Hector: Every Word adds a Weight to the concluding Action of his Poem, and at the same time represents the sad Effects of the Anger of Achilles, which is the Subject of it.

The martial Scarf and Robe of Triumph wove.

Now to devouring Flames be these a Prey,
Useless to thee, from this accursed Day!
Yet let the Sacrifice at least be paid,
An Honour to the Living, not the Dead!
So spake the mournful Dame: Her Matrons hear,
Sigh back her Sighs, and answer Tear with Tear.
 

Verse 141. Shall proud Polydamas , &c.] Hector alludes to the Counsel given him by Polydamas in the eighteenth Book, which he then neglected to follow: It was, to withdraw to the City, and fortify themselves there, before Achilles return'd to the Battel.


59

THE TWENTY-THIRD BOOK OF THE ILIAD

This, and the following Book, which contain the Description of the Funeral of Patroclus, and other Matters relating to Hector, are undoubtedly superadded to the grand Catastrophe of the Poem; for the Story is compleatly finish'd with the Death of that Hero in the 22d Book. Many judicious Criticks have been of opinion that Homer is blameable for protracting it. Virgil closes the whole Scene of Action with the Death of Turnus, and leaves the rest to be imagin'd by the Mind of the Reader: He does not draw the Picture at full Length, but delineates it so far, that we cannot fail of imagining the whole Draught. There is however one thing to be said in favour of Homer which may perhaps justify him in his Method, that what he undertook was to paint the Anger of Achilles: And as that Anger does not die with Hector, but persecutes his very remains, so the Poet still keeps up to his Subject; nay it seems to require that he should carry down the Relation of that Resentment, which is the Foundation of his Poem, till it is fully satisfy'd: And as this survives Hector, and gives the Poet an Opportunity of still shewing many sad Effects of Achilles's Anger, the two following Books may be thought not to be Excrescencies, but essential to the Poem.

Virgil had been inexcusable had he trod in Homer's Footsteps; for it is evident that the Fall of Turnus, by giving Æneas a full Power over Italy, answers the whole Design and Intention of the Poem; had he gone farther he had overshot his Mark: And tho' Homer proceeds after Hector's Death, yet the Subject is still the Anger of Achilles.

We are now past the War and Violence of the Ilias, the Scenes of Blood are closed during the rest of the Poem; we may look back with a pleasing kind of Horror upon the Anger of Achilles, and see what dire Effects it has wrought in the compass of nineteen Days: Troy and Greece are both in Mourning for it, Heaven and Earth, Gods and Men, have suffer'd in the Conflict. The Reader seems landed upon the Shore after a violent Storm; and has Leisure to survey the Consequences of the Tempest, and the Wreck occasion'd by the former Commotions, Troy weeping for Hector, and Greece for Patroclus. Our Passions have been in an Agitation since the opening of the Poem; wherefore the Poet, like some great Master in Musick, softens his Notes, and melts his Readers into Tenderness and Pity.

.


60

The ARGUMENT.

The Funeral of Patroclus.

Achilles and the Myrmidons do Honours to the Body of Patroclus. After the funeral Feast he retires to the Sea-Shore, where falling asleep, the Ghost of his Friend appears to him, and demands the Rites of Burial; the next Morning the Soldiers are sent with Mules and Waggons to fetch Wood for the Pyre. The funeral Procession, and the offering of their Hair to the Dead. Achilles sacrifices several Animals, and lastly, twelve Trojan Captives at the Pile, then sets fire to it. He pays Libations to the Winds, which (at the instance of Iris) rise, and raise the Flames. When the Pile has burn'd all Night, they gather the Bones, place 'em in an Urn of Gold, and raise the Tomb. Achilles institutes the funeral Games: The Chariot Race, the Fight of the Cæstus, the Wrestling, the Foot-Race, the single Combate, the Discus, the shooting with Arrows, the darting the Javelin: The various Descriptions of which, and the various Success of the several Antagonists, make the greatest part of the Book.

In this Book ends the thirtieth Day: The Night following, the Ghost of Patroclus appears to Achilles: The one and thirtieth Day is employ'd in selling the Timber for the Pile; the two and thirtieth in burning it; and the three and thirtieth in the Games. The Scene is generally on the Sea-Shore.


61

Thus humbled in the Dust, the pensive Train
Thro' the sad City mourn'd her Hero slain.
The Body soil'd with Dust, and black with Gore,
Lyes on broad Hellespont's resounding Shore:
The Grecians seek their Ships, and clear the Strand,
All, but the martial Myrmidonian Band:
These yet assembled great Achilles holds,
And the stern purpose of his Mind unfolds.
Not yet (my brave Companions of the War)
Release your smoaking Coursers from the Car;
But, with his Chariot each in order led,
Perform due Honours to Patroclus dead.

62

E'er yet from Rest or Food we seek Relief,
Some Rites remain, to glut our Rage of Grief.
The Troops obey'd; and thrice in order led
(Achilles first) their Coursers round the Dead;
And thrice their Sorrows and Laments renew;

Verse 18. Tears bathe their Arms, and tears the Sands bedew,— — Thetis aids their Woe—] It is not easy to give a reason why Thetis should be said to excite the Grief of the Myrmidons, and of Achilles; it had seem'd more natural for the Mother to have compos'd the Sorrows of the Son, and restored his troubled Mind to Tranquillity.

But such a Procedure would have outrag'd the Character of Achilles, who is all along describ'd to be of such a Violence of Temper, that he is not easy to be pacify'd at any time, much less upon so great an Incident as the Death of his Friend Patroclus. Perhaps the Poet made use of this Fiction in honour of Achilles; he makes every Passion of his Hero considerable, his Sorrow as well as Anger is important, and he cannot grieve but a Goddess attends him, and a whole Army weeps.

Some Commentators fancy'd that Homer animates the very Sands of the Seas, and the Arms of the Myrmidons, and makes them sensible of the Loss of Patroclus; the preceding Words seem to strengthen that Opinion, because the Poet introduces a Goddess to raise the Sorrow of the Army. But Eustathius seems not to give into this Conjecture, and I think very judiciously; for what Relation is there between the Sands of the Shores, and the Arms of the Myrmidons? It would have been more poetical to have said, the Sands and the Rocks, than the Sands and the Arms; but it is very natural to say, that the Soldiers wept so bitterly, that their Armour and the very Sands were wet with their Tears. I believe this Remark will appear very just by reading the Verse, with a Comma after τευχεα, thus,

Δευοντο ψαμαθοι, δευοντο δε τευχεα, φωτων
Δακρυσι.

Then the Construction will be natural and easy, Period will answer Period in the Greek, and the Sense in English will be, the Sands were wet, and the Arms were wet, with the Tears of the Mourners.

But however this be, there is a very remarkable Beauty in the run of the Verse in Homer, every Word has a melancholy Cadence, and the Poet has not only made the Sands and the Arms, but even his very Verse, to lament with Achilles.

Tears drop the Sands, and Tears their Arms bedew.

For such a Warrior Thetis aids their Woe,
Melts their strong Hearts, and bids their Eyes to flow.
But chief, Pelides: thick-succeeding Sighs
Burst from his Heart, and Torrents from his Eyes:

Verse 23.

His slaught'ring Hands yet red with Blood he laid
On his dead Friend's cold Breast

------] I could not pass by this Passage without observing to my Reader the great Beauty of this Epithet, ανδροφονους. An ordinary Poet would have contented himself with saying, he laid his Hand upon the Breast of Patroclus, but Homer knows how to raise the most trivial Circumstance, and by adding this one Word, he laid his deadly Hands, or his murderous Hands on Patroclus Breast, he fills our Minds with great Ideas, and by a single Epithet recalls to our Thoughts all the noble Atchievements of Achilles thro' the Iliad.

His slaught'ring Hands, yet red with Blood, he laid

On his dead Friend's cold Breast, and thus he said.

Verse 25. All hail Patroclus , &c.] There is in this Apostrophe of Achilles to the Ghost of Patroclus, a sort of Savageness, and a mixture of Softness and Atrocity, which are highly conformable to his Character. Dacier.

All hail Patroclus! let thy honour'd Ghost

Hear, and rejoice on Pluto's dreary Coast;
Behold! Achilles' Promise is compleat;
The bloody Hector stretch'd before thy Feet.
Lo! to the Dogs his Carcass I resign;
And twelve sad Victims of the Trojan Line
Sacred to Vengeance, instant shall expire,
Their Lives effus'd around thy fun'ral Pyre.
Gloomy he said, and (horrible to view)
Before the Bier the bleeding Hector threw,

63

Prone on the Dust. The Myrmidons around
Unbrac'd their Armour, and the Steeds unbound.
All to Achilles' sable Ship repair,
Frequent and full, the genial Feast to share.
Now from the well-fed Swine black Smokes aspire,
The bristly Victims hissing o'er the Fire;
The huge Ox bellowing falls; with feebler cries
Expires the Goat; the Sheep in Silence dies:
Around the Hero's prostrate Body flow'd
In one promiscuous Stream, the reeking Blood.
And now a Band of Argive Monarchs brings
The glorious Victor to the King of Kings.
From his dead Friend the pensive Warrior went,
With Steps unwilling, to the regal Tent.
Th'attending Heralds, as by Office bound,
With kindled Flames the Tripod-Vase surround;

Verse 51.

To cleanse his conqu'ring Hands------
------The Chief refus'd------

] This is conformable to the Custom of the Orientals: Achilles will not be induc'd to wash, and afterwards retires to the Seashore, and sleeps on the Ground. It is just thus that David mourns in the Scriptures; he refuses to wash, or to take any Repast, but retires from Company, and lies upon the Earth.

To cleanse his conqu'ring Hands from hostile Gore,

They urg'd in vain; the Chief refus'd, and swore.
No Drop shall touch me, by almighty Jove!
The first and greatest of the Gods above!
Till on the Pyre I place thee; till I rear
The grassy Mound, and clip thy sacred Hair.

64

Some Ease at least those pious Rites may give,
And sooth my Sorrows, while I bear to live.
Howe'er, reluctant as I am, I stay,
And share your Feast; but, with the Dawn of Day,
(O King of Men!) it claims thy royal Care,
That Greece the Warrior's fun'ral Pile prepare,
And bid the Forests fall: (Such Rites are paid
To Heroes slumb'ring in Eternal Shade)
Then, when his earthly Part shall mount in Fire,
Let the leagu'd Squadrons to their Posts retire.
He spoke; they hear him, and the Word obey;
The Rage of Hunger and of Thirst allay,
Then ease in Sleep the Labours of the Day.
But great Pelides, stretch'd along the Shore
Where dash'd on Rocks the broken Billows roar,
Lies inly groaning; while on either Hand
The martial Myrmidons confus'dly stand:
Along the Grass his languid Members fall,
Tir'd with his Chase around the Trojan Wall;
Hush'd by the Murmurs of the rolling Deep
At length he sinks in the soft Arms of Sleep.

65

Verse 78. The Ghost of Patroclus .] Homer has introduc'd into the former parts of the Poem the Personages of Gods and Goddesses from Heaven, and of Furies from Hell: He has embellished it with Ornaments from Earth, Sea, and Air; and he here opens a new Scene, and brings to the view a Ghost, the Shade of the departed Friend: By these Methods he diversifies his Poem with new and surprizing Circumstances, and awakens the Attention of the Reader; at the same time he very poetically adapts his Language to the Circumstances of this imaginary Patroclus, and teaches us the Opinions that prevail'd in his time, concerning the State of separate Souls.

When lo! the Shade before his closing Eyes

Of sad Patroclus rose, or seem'd to rise;
In the same Robe the Living wore, he came,
In Stature, Voice, and pleasing Look, the same.
The Form familiar hover'd o'er his Head,
And sleeps Achilles, (thus the Phantom said)
Sleeps my Achilles, his Patroclus dead?
Living, I seem'd his dearest, tend'rest Care,
But now forgot, I wander in the Air:
Let my pale Corse the Rites of Burial know,
And give me Entrance in the Realms below:
Till then, the Spirit finds no resting place,
But here and there th'unbody'd Spectres chace
The vagrant Dead around the dark Abode,

Verse 92. Forbid to pass th'irremeable Flood.] It was the common Opinion of the Ancients, that the Souls of the Departed were not admitted into the Number of the Happy till their Bodies had receiv'd the funeral Rites; they suppos'd those that wanted them wander'd an hundred Years before they were wafted over the infernal River: Virgil perhaps had this Passage of Homer in his view in the sixth Æneis, at least he coincides with his Sentiments concerning the State of the departed Souls.

Hæc omnis, quam cernis inops inhumataq; Turba est:
Nec ripas datur horrendas, nec rauca fluenta
Transportare priùs, quàm sedibus ossa quierunt;
Centum errant annos volitantq; hæc littora circum
Tum demum admissi stagna exoptata revisunt.

It was during this Interval, between their Death and the Rites of Funeral, that they suppos'd the only Time allow'd for separate Spirits to appear to Men; therefore Patroclus here tells his Friend,

------ To the farther Shore
When once we pass, the Soul returns no more.

For the fuller understanding of Homer, it is necessary to be acquainted with his Notion of the State of the Soul after Death: He follow'd the Philosophy of the Ægyptians, who suppos'd Man to be compounded of three Parts, an intelligent Mind, a Vehicle for that Mind, and a Body; the Mind they call'd φρην, or ψυχη, the Vehicle ειδωλον, Image or Soul, and the gross Body σωμα. The Soul, in which the Mind was lodg'd, was suppos'd exactly to resemble the Body in Shape, Magnitude, and Features; for this being in the Body as the Statue in its Mold, so soon as it goes forth is properly the Image of that Body in which it was enclos'd: This it was that appear'd to Achilles, with the full Resemblance of his Friend Patroclus. Vid. Dacier on the Life of Pythagoras, p. 71.

Forbid to cross th'irremeable Flood.

Now give thy Hand; for to the farther Shore
When once we pass, the Soul returns no more.
When once the last Funereal Flames ascend,
No more shall meet, Achilles and his Friend,
No more our Thoughts to those we lov'd make known,
Or quit the dearest, to converse alone.

66

Me Fate has sever'd from the Sons of Earth,
The Fate fore-doom'd that waited from my Birth:
Thee too it waits; before the Trojan Wall
Ev'n great and god-like Thou art doom'd to fall.
Hear then; and as in Fate and Love we joyn,
Ah suffer that my Bones may rest with thine!
Together have we liv'd, together bred,
One House receiv'd us, and one Table fed;
That golden Urn thy Goddess Mother gave

Verse 108. May mix our Ashes in one common Grave.] There is something very pathetical in this whole Speech of Patroclus; he begins it with kind Reproaches, and blames Achilles with a friendly Tenderness; he recounts to him the inseparable Affection that had been between them in their Lives, and makes it his last Request, that they may not be parted even in Death, but that their Bones may rest in the same Urn. The Speech itself is of a due Length, it ought not to be very short, because this Apparition is an Incident entirely different from any other in the whole Poem, and consequently the Reader would not have been satisfy'd with a cursory mention of it; neither ought it to be long, because this would have been contrary to the Nature of such Apparitions, whose Stay upon Earth has ever been describ'd as very short, and consequently they cannot be suppos'd to use many Words.

The Circumstance of being buried in the same Urn, is entirely conformable to the Eastern Custom: There are innumerable Instances in the Scriptures of great Personages being buried with their Fathers: So Joseph would not suffer his Bones to rest in Ægypt, but commands his Brethren to carry them into Canaan to the Burying-place of his Father Jacob.

May mix our Ashes in one common Grave.

And is it thou (he answers) to my Sight
Once more return'st thou from the Realms of Night?
Oh more than Brother! Think each Office paid,
Whate'er can rest a discontented Shade;
But grant one last Embrace, unhappy Boy!
Afford at least that melancholy joy.
He said, and with his longing Arms essay'd
In vain to grasp the visionary Shade;
Like a thin Smoke he sees the Spirit fly,
And hears a feeble, lamentable Cry.
Confus'd he wakes; Amazement breaks the Bands
Of golden Sleep, and starting from the Sands,
Pensive he muses with uplifted Hands.

67

'Tis true, 'tis certain; Man, tho' dead, retains
Part of himself; th'immortal Mind remains:

Verse 122.

The Form subsists without the Body's Aid,
Aerial Semblance, and an empty Shade.

]

The Words of Homer are

Αταρ φρενες ουκ ενι παμπαν.

In which there seems to be a great Difficulty; it being not easy to explain how Achilles can say that the Ghost of his Friend had no Understanding, when it had but just made such a rational and moving Speech: Especially when the Poet introduces the Apparition with the very Shape, Air, and Voice of Patroclus.

But this Passage will be clearly understood, by explaining the Notion which the Ancients entertain'd of the Souls of the Departed, according to the fore-cited triple Division of Mind, Image, and Body. They imagin'd that the Soul was not only separated from the Body at the Hour of Death, but that there was a farther Separation of the φρην, or Understanding, from its ειδωλον, or Vehicle; so that while the ειδωλον, or Image of the Body, was in Hell, the φρην, or Understanding, might be in Heaven: And that this is a true Explication is evident from a Passage in the Odysseis, Book II. V. 600.

Τον δε μετ', εισενοησα βιην, Ηρακληειην
Ειδωλον: αυτος δε μετ' αθανατοισι θεοισι
Τερπεται εν θαλιης, και εχει καλλισφυρον Ηβην.
Now I the Strength of Hercules behold,
A tow'ring Spectre of gigantick Mold;
A shadowy Form! for high in Heav'n's Abodes
Himself resides, a God among the Gods!
There in the bright Assemblies of the Skies
He Nectar quaffs, and Hebe crowns with Joys.

By this it appears that Homer was of opinion that Hercules was in Heaven, while his ειδωλον, or Image, was in Hell: So that when this second Separation is made, the Image or Vehicle becomes a mere thoughtless Form.

We have this whole Doctrine very distinctly deliver'd by Plutarch in these Words. “Man is a compound Subject; but not of two Parts, as is commonly believed, because the Understanding is generally accounted a Part of the Soul; whereas indeed it as far exceeds the Soul, as the Soul is diviner than the Body. Now the Soul, when compounded with the Understanding, makes Reason, and when compounded with the Body, Passion: Whereof the one is the Source or Principle of Pleasure or Pain, the other of Vice or Virtue. Man therefore properly dies two Deaths; the first Death makes him two of three, and the second makes him one of two.” [Plutarch of the Face in the Moon.

The Form subsists, without the Body's Aid,

Aerial Semblance, and an empty Shade!
This night my Friend, so late in Battel lost,
Stood at my side, a pensive, plaintive Ghost;
Ev'n now familiar, as in Life, he came,
Alas how diff'rent! yet how like the same!
Thus while he spoke, each Eye grew big with Tears:
And now the rosy-finger'd Morn appears,
Shews every mournful Face with Tears o'erspread,
And glares on the pale Visage of the Dead.
But Agamemnon, as the Rites demand,
With Mules and Waggons sends a chosen Band;
To load the Timber and the Pile to rear,
A Charge consign'd to Merion's faithful Care.
With proper Instruments they take the Road,
Axes to cut, and Ropes to sling the Load.
First march the heavy Mules, securely slow,

Verse 139. O'er Hills, o'er Dales, o'er Rocks, o'er Crags they goOn all sides round the Forest hurls her Oaks Headlong—] The Numbers in the Original of this whole Passage are admirably adapted to the Images the Verses convey to us. Every Ear must have felt the Propriety of Sound in this Line,

Πολλα δ' αναντα, καταντα, παραντα τε, δοχμια τ' ηλθον.

That other in its kind is no less exact,

Ταμνον επειγομενοι, ται δε μεγαγα κτυπεουσαι
Πιπτον ------

Dionysius of Halicarnassus has collected many Instances of these sorts of Beauties in Homer. This Description of felling the Forests, so excellent as it is, is comprehended in a few Lines, which has left room for a larger and more particular one in Statius, one of the best (I think) in that Author.

------ Cadit ardua fagus,
Chaoniumque nemus, brumæque illæsa cupressus;
Procumbunt piceæ, flammis alimenta supremis,
Ornique, iliceæque trabes, metuendaque sulco
Taxus, & infandos belli potura cruores
Fraxinus, atque situ non expugnabile robur:
Hinc audax abies, & odoræ vulnere pinus
Scinditur, acclinant intonsa cacumina terræ
Alnus amica fretis, nec inhospita vitibus ulmus, &c.

I the rather cite this fine Passage, because I find it copied by two of the greatest Poets of our own Nation, Chaucer and Spencer. The first in the Assembly of Fowls, the second in his Fairy Queen. lib. 1.

The sailing Pine, the Cedar proud and tall,
The Vine-prop Elm, the Poplar never dry,
The builder Oak, sole King of Forests all,
The Aspine good for Staves, the Cypress Funeral.
The Laurel, Meed of mighty Conquerors,
And Poets sage: The Fir that weepeth still,
The Willow, worn of forlorn Paramours,
The Ewe obedient to the Bender's Will,
The Birch for Shafts, the Sallow for the Mill,
The Myrrh, sweet bleeding in the bitter Wound,
The warlike Beech, the Ash for nothing ill,
The fruitful Olive, and the Platane round,
The Carver Holme, the Maple seldom inward sound.
O'er Hills, o'er Dales, o'er Crags, o'er Rocks, they go:

Jumping high o'er the Shrubs of the rough Ground,
Rattle the clatt'ring Cars, and the shockt Axles bound.

68

But when arriv'd at Ida's spreading Woods,
(Fair Ida, water'd with descending Floods)
Loud sounds the Axe, redoubling Strokes on Strokes;
On all sides round the Forest hurles her Oaks
Headlong. Deep-echoing groan the Thickets brown;
Then rustling, crackling, crashing, thunder down.
The Wood the Grecians cleave, prepar'd to burn;
And the slow Mules the same rough Road return.
The sturdy Woodmen equal Burthens bore
(Such charge was giv'n 'em) to the sandy Shore;
There on the Spot which great Achilles show'd,
They eas'd their Shoulders, and dispos'd the Load;
Circling around the Place, where Times to come
Shall view Patroclus' and Achilles' Tomb.
The Hero bids his martial Troops appear
High on their Cars, in all the Pomp of War;

Verse 158. Each in refulgent Arms, &c—] 'Tis not to be suppos'd that this was a general Custom used at all Funerals; but Patroclus being a Warrior he is buried like a Soldier, with military Honours. Eustathius.

Each in refulgent Arms his Limbs attires,

All mount their Chariots, Combatants and Squires.
The Chariots first proceed, a shining Train;
Then Clouds of Foot that smoak along the Plain;
Next these a melancholy Band appear,
Amidst, lay dead Patroclus on the Bier:

69

Verse 164. O'er all the Corse their scatterd Locks they throw.] The Ceremony of cutting off the Hair in honour of the Dead was practis'd not only among the Greeks, but also among other Nations; Thus Statius Thebaid. VI.

------ Tergoque & pectore susam
Cæsariem ferro minuit, sectisque jacentis
Obnubit tenuia ora comis.

This Custom is taken notice of in holy Scripture: Ezekiel describing a great Lamentation, says, They shall make themselves utterly bald for thee, ch. 27. V. 31. I believe it was done not only in token of Sorrow, but perhaps had a conceal'd Meaning, that as the Hair was cut from the Head, and was never more to be join'd to it, so was the Dead for ever cut off from the Living, never more to return.

I must just observe that this Ceremony of cutting off the Hair was not always in token of Sorrow; Lycophron in his Cassandra, V. 976. describing a general Lamentation, says

Κρατος δ' ακουρος νωτα καλλυνει φοβη.
A Length of unshorn Hair adorn'd their Backs.

And that the Ancients sometimes had their Hair cut off in token of Joy is evident from Juvenal Sat. 12. V. 82.

------ Gaudent ibi vertice raso
Garrula securi narrare pericula Nautæ.

This seeming Contradiction will be solv'd by having respect to the different Practices of different Nations. If it was the general Custom of any Country to wear long Hair, then the cutting it off was a token of Sorrow; but if it was the Custom to wear short Hair, then the letting it grow long and neglecting it, shew'd that such People were Mourners.

O'er all the Corse their scatter'd Locks they throw.

Achilles next, opprest with mighty Woe,

Verse 166. Supporting with his Hands the Hero's Head.] Achilles follows the Corpse as chief Mourner, and sustains the Head of his Friend: This last Circumstance seems to be neral; thus Euripides in the Funeral of Rhesus, V. 886.

Τις υπερ κεφαλης θεος, ω Βασιλευ,
Τον νεοδμητον ε'ν χεροιν
φοραδην πεμπει;

What God, O King, with his Hands supports the Head of the deceased?

Supporting with his Hands the Hero's Head,

Bends o'er th'extended Body of the Dead.
The Body decent, on th'appointed Ground
They place, and heap the Sylvan Pile around.
But great Achilles stands apart in Pray'r,
And from his Head divides the yellow Hair;
The curling Locks which from his Youth he vow'd,

Verse 173. And sacred grew to Sperchius honour'd Flood.] It was the Custom of the Ancients not only to offer their own Hair, but likewise to consecrate that of their Children to the River-Gods of their Countrey. This is what Pausanias shews in his Attics: Before you pass the Cephisa (says he) you find the Tomb of Theodorus, who was the most excellent Actor of his Time for Tragedy; and on the Banks you see two Statues, one of Mnesimachus, and the other of his Son, who cut off his Hair in honour of the Rivers; for that this was in all Ages the Custom of the Greeks, may be inferr'd from Homer's Poetry where Peleus promises by a solemn Vow to consecrate to the River Sperchius the Hair of his Son, if he returns safe from the Trojan War. This Custom was likewise in Ægypt, where Philostratus tells us, that Memnon consecrated his Hair to the Nile. This Practice of Achilles was imitated by Alexander at the Funeral of Hephæstion. Spondanus.

And sacred grew to Sperchius honour'd Flood:

Then sighing, to the Deep his Looks he cast,
And roll'd his Eyes around the wat'ry Waste.
Sperchius! whose Waves in mazy Errors lost
Delightful roll along my native Coast!
To whom we vainly vow'd, at our return,
These Locks to fall, and Hecatombs to burn;
Full fifty Rams to bleed in Sacrifice,
Where to the Day thy silver Fountains rise,
And where in Shade of consecrated Bow'rs
Thy Altars stand, perfum'd with native Flow'rs!
So vow'd my Father, but he vow'd in vain;
No more Achilles sees his native Plain;

70

In that vain Hope these Hairs no longer grow,
Patroclus bears them to the Shades below.
Thus o'er Patroclus while the Hero pray'd,
On his cold Hand the sacred Lock he laid.
Once more afresh the Grecian Sorrows flow:
And now the Sun had set upon their Woe;
But to the King of Men thus spoke the Chief.
Enough, Atrides! give the Troops Relief:
Permit the mourning Legions to retire,
And let the Chiefs alone attend the Pyre;
The pious Care be ours, the Dead to burn—
He said: The People to their Ships return:
While those deputed to inter the Slain
Heap with a rising Pyramid the Plain.
A hundred Foot in length, a hundred wide,
The growing Structure spreads on ev'ry Side;
High on the Top the manly Corse they lay,
And well-fed Sheep, and sable Oxen slay:
Achilles cover'd with their Fat the Dead,
And the pil'd Victims round the Body spread.
Then Jars of Honey, and of fragrant Oil
Suspends around, low-bending o'er the Pile.

71

Four sprightly Coursers, with a deadly Groan
Pour forth their Lives, and on the Pyre are thrown.
Of nine large Dogs, domestick at his Board,
Fall two, selected to attend their Lord.
Then last of all, and horrible to tell,
Sad Sacrifice! twelve Trojan Captives fell.
On these the Rage of Fire victorious preys,
Involves, and joins them in one common Blaze.
Smear'd with the bloody Rites, he stands on high,
And calls the Spirit with a dreadful Cry.
All hail, Patroclus! let thy vengeful Ghost
Hear, and exult on Pluto's dreary Coast.
Behold, Achilles' Promise fully paid,
Twelve Trojan Heroes offer'd to thy Shade;
But heavier Fates on Hector's Corse attend,
Sav'd from the Flames, for hungry Dogs to rend.
So spake he, threat'ning: But the Gods made vain
His Threat, and guard inviolate the Slain:

Verse 226. Cœlestial Venus , &c.] Homer has here introduc'd a Series of Allegories in the Compass of a few Lines: The Body of Hector may be suppos'd to have continued beautiful even after he was slain; and Venus being the President of Beauty, the Poet by a natural Fiction tells us it was preserv'd by that Goddess.

Apollo's covering the Body with a Cloud is a very natural Allegory: For the Sun (says Eustathius) has a double Quality which produces contrary Effects; the Heat of it causes a Dryness, but at the same time it exhales the Vapours of the Earth, from whence the Clouds of Heaven are form'd. This Allegory may be founded upon Truth; there might happen to be a cool Season while Hector lay unburied, and Apollo, or the Sun, raising Clouds which intercept the Heat of his Beams, by a very easy Fiction in Poetry may be introduc'd in Person to preserve the Body of Hector.

Celestial Venus hover'd o'er his Head,

And roseate Unguents, heav'nly Fragrance! shed:
She watch'd him all the Night, and all the Day,
And drove the Bloodhounds from their destin'd Prey.

72

Nor sacred Phœbus less employ'd his Care;
He pour'd around a Veil of gather'd Air,
And kept the Nerves undry'd, the Flesh entire,
Against the Solar Beam and Sirian Fire.
Nor yet the Pile where dead Patroclus lies,
Smokes, nor as yet the sullen Flames arise;
But fast beside Achilles stood in Pray'r,
Invok'd the Gods whose Spirit moves the Air,
And Victims promis'd, and Libations cast,
To gentle Zephyr and the Boreal Blast:
He call'd th'Aerial Pow'rs, along the Skies
To breathe, and whisper to the Fires to rise.
The winged Iris heard the Hero's Call,
And instant hasten'd to their airy Hall,
Where, in old Zephyr's open Courts on high,
Sate all the blustring Brethren of the Sky.
She shone amidst them, on her painted Bow;
The rocky Pavement glitter'd with the Show.
All from the Banquet rise, and each invites
The Various Goddess to partake the Rites.
Not so, (the Dame reply'd) I haste to go
To sacred Ocean, and the Floods below:

73

Ev'n now our solemn Hecatombs attend,
And Heav'n is feasting on the World's green End,
With righteous Æthiops (uncorrupted Train!)
Far on th'extreamest Limits of the Main.
But Peleus' Son intreats, with Sacrifice,
The Western Spirit, and the North to rise;
Let on Patroclus' Pile your Blast be driv'n,

Verse 261. The Allegory of the Winds.] A Poet ought to express nothing vulgarly; and sure no Poet ever trespass'd less against this Rule than Homer; the Fruitfulness of his Invention is continually raising Incidents new and surprising. Take this Passage out of its poetical Dress, and it will be no more than this: A strong Gale of Wind blew, and so increased the Flame that it soon consum'd the Pile. But Homer introduces the Gods of the Winds in Person: And Iris, or the Rainbow, being (as Eustathius observes) a Sign not only of Showers, but of Winds, he makes them come at her Summons.

Every Circumstance is well adapted: As soon as the Winds see Iris, they rise; that is, when the Rainbow appears, the the Wind rises: She refuses to sit, and immediately returns; that is, the Rainbow is never seen long at one time, but soon appears, and soon vanishes: She returns over the Ocean; that is, the Bow is compos'd of Waters, and it would have been an unnatural Fiction to have describ'd her as passing by Land.

The Winds are all together in the Cave of Zephyrus, which may imply that they were there as at their general Rendezvous; or that the Nature of all the Winds is the same; or that the Western Wind is in that Countrey the most constant, and consequently it may be said that at such Seasons all the Winds are assembled in one Corner, or rendezvous with Zephyrus.

Iris will not enter the Cave: It is the Nature of the Rainbow to be stretch'd entirely upon the Surface, and therefore this Fiction is agreeable to Reason.

When Iris says that the Gods are partaking Hecatombs in Æthiopia, it is to be remember'd that the Gods are represented there in the first Book, before the Scenes of War were open'd, and now they are closed, they return thither. Eustathius—Thus Homer makes the Anger of his Hero so important, that it rouz'd Heaven to Arms, and now when it is almost appeas'd, Achilles as it were gives Peace to the Gods.

And bear the blazing Honours high to Heav'n.

Swift as the Word, she vanish'd from their View;
Swift as the Word, the Winds tumultuous flew;
Forth burst the stormy Band with thundring Roar,
And Heaps on Heaps the Clouds are tost before.
To the wide Main then stooping from the Skies,
The heaving Deeps in wat'ry Mountains rise:
Troy feels the Blast along her shaking Walls,
Till on the Pyle the gather'd Tempest falls.
The Structure crackles in the roaring Fires,
And all the Night the plenteous Flame aspires.
All Night, Achilles hails Patroclus Soul,
With large Libation from the golden Bowl.
As a poor Father helpless and undone,
Mourns o'er the Ashes of an only Son,

74

Takes a sad Pleasure the last Bones to burn,
And pour in Tears, e'er yet they close the Urn.
So stay'd Achilles, circling round the Shore,
So watch'd the Flames, till now they flam'd no more.
'Twas when, emerging thro' the Shades of Night,
The Morning Planet told th'approach of Light;
And fast behind, Aurora's warmer Ray
O'er the broad Ocean pour'd the golden Day:
Then sunk the Blaze, the Pyle no longer burn'd,
And to their Caves the whistling Winds return'd:
Across the Thracian Seas their Course they bore;
The ruffled Seas beneath their Passage roar.
Then parting from the Pyle he ceas'd to weep,
And sunk to Quiet in th'Embrace of Sleep,
Exhausted with his Grief: Meanwhile the Crowd
Of thronging Grecians round Achilles stood;
The Tumult wak'd him: From his Eyes he shook
Unwilling Slumber, and the Chiefs bespoke.
Ye Kings and Princes of th'Achaian Name!
First let us quench the yet-remaining Flame
With sable Wine; then, (as the Rites direct,)
The Hero's Bones with careful view select:

75

(Apart, and easy to be known they lye,
Amidst the Heap, and obvious to the Eye;
The rest around the Margins will be seen,
Promiscuous, Steeds, and immolated Men)
These wrapt in double Cauls of Fat, prepare;
And in the golden Vase dispose with Care;
There let them rest, with decent Honour laid,
Till I shall follow to th'Infernal Shade.
Meantime erect the Tomb with pious Hands,
A common Structure on the humble Sands;

Verse 306. Hereafter Greece a nobler Pyle shall raise.] We see how Achilles consults his own Glory; the desire of it prevails over his Tenderness for Patroclus, and he will not permit any Man, not even his belov'd Patroclus, to share an equality of Honour with himself, even in the Grave. Eustathius.

Hereafter Greece some nobler Work may raise,

And late Posterity record our Praise.
The Greeks obey; where yet the Embers glow,
Wide o'er the Pyle the sable Wine they throw,
And deep subsides the ashy Heap below.
Next the white Bones his sad Companions place
With Tears collected, in the golden Vase.
The sacred Relicks to the Tent they bore;
The Urn a Veil of Linen cover'd o'er.
That done, they bid the Sepulchre aspire,
And cast the deep Foundations round the Pyre;

76

High in the midst they heap the swelling Bed

Verse 320. The Games for Patroclus .] The Conduct of Homer in enlarging upon the Games at the Funeral of Patroclus is very judicious: There had undoubtedly been such Honours paid to several Heroes during this War, as appears from a Passage in the ninth Book, where Agamemnon to enhance the Value of the Horses which he offers Achilles, says, that any Person would be rich that had Treasures equal to the Value of the Prizes they had won; which Races must have been run during the Seige: for had they been before it, the Horses would now have been too old to be of any Value, this being the tenth Year of the War. But he Poet passes all those Games over in Silence, and reserves them for this Season; not only in honour of Patroclus, but also of his Hero Achilles; who exhibits Games to a whole Army; great Generals are Candidates for the Prizes, and he himself fits the Judge and Arbitrator: Thus in Peace as well as War the Poet maintains the Superiority of the Character of Achilles.

But there is another Reason why the Poet deferr'd to relate any Games that were exhibited at any preceding Funerals: The Death of Patroclus was the most eminent Period; and consequently the most proper Time for such Games.

'Tis farther observable, that he chuses this peculiar Time with great Judgment. When the Fury of the War rag'd, the Army could not well have found Leisure for the Games, and they might have met with Interruption from the Enemy: But Hector being dead, all Troy is in Confusion: They are in too great a Consternation to make any Attempts, and therefore the Poet could not possibly have chosen a more happy Opportunity. Eustathius.

Of rising Earth, Memorial of the Dead.

The swarming Populace the Chief detains,
And leads amidst a wide Extent of Plains;
There plac'd 'em round: Then from the Ships proceeds
A Train of Oxen, Mules, and stately Steeds,
Vases and Tripods, for the Fun'ral Games,
Resplendent Brass, and more resplendent Dames.
First stood the Prizes to reward the Force
Of rapid Racers in the dusty Course.
A Woman for the first, in Beauty's Bloom,
Skill'd in the Needle, and the lab'ring Loom;
And a large Vase, where two bright Handles rise,
Of twenty Measures its capacious Size.
The second Victor claims a Mare unbroke,
Big with a Mule, unknowing of the Yoke:
The third, a Charger yet untouch'd by Flame;
Four ample Measures held the shining Frame:
Two golden Talents for the fourth were plac'd;
An ample double Bowl contents the last.
These in fair Order rang'd upon the Plain,
The Hero, rising, thus addrest the Train.

77

Behold the Prizes, valiant Greeks! decreed
To the brave Rulers of the racing Steed;
Prizes which none beside our self could gain,
Should our immortal Coursers take the Plain;
(A Race unrival'd, which from Ocean's God
Peleus receiv'd, and on his Son bestow'd.)
But this no time our Vigour to display,
Nor suit, with them, the Games of this sad Day:

Verse 347. Lost is Patroclus now, &c.] I am not ignorant that Homer has frequently been blamed for such little Digressions as these; in this Passage he gives us the Genealogy of his Horses, which he has frequently told us in the preceding part of the Poem. But Eustathius justifies his Conduct, and says that it was very proper to commend the Virtue of these Horses upon this Occasion, when Horses were to contend for Victory: At the same time he takes an Opportunity to make an honourable Mention of his Friend Patroclus, in whose Honour these Games were exhibited.

It may be added as a farther Justification of Homer, that this last Circumstance is very natural: Achilles while he commends his Horses remembers how careful Patroclus had been of them: His Love for his Friend is so great, that the minutest Circumstance recalls him to his Mind; and such little Digressions, such Avocations of Thought as these, very naturally proceed from the Overflows of Love and Sorrow.

Lost is Patroclus now, that wont to deck

Their flowing Manes, and sleek their glossy Neck.
Sad, as they shar'd in human Grief, they stand,
And trail those graceful Honours on the Sand!
Let others for the noble Task prepare,
Who trust the Courser, and the flying Car.
Fir'd at his Word, the Rival Racers rise;
But far the first, Eumelus hopes the Prize,
Fam'd thro' Pieria for the fleetest Breed,
And skill'd to manage the high-bounding Steed.
With equal Ardor bold Tydides swell'd
The Steeds of Tros beneath his Yoke compell'd,
(Which late obey'd the Dardan Chief's Command,
When scarce a God redeem'd him from his Hand)

78

Then Menelaus his Podargus brings,
And the fam'd Courser of the King of Kings:

Verse 363. Whom rich Echepolus , &c.] One wou'd think that Agamemnon might be accus'd of Avarice, in dispensing a Man from going to the War for the sake of a Horse; but Aristotle very well observes, that this Prince is praise-worthy for having preferr'd a Horse to a Person so cowardly, and so uncapable of Service. It may also be conjectur'd from this Passage, that even in those elder Times it was the Custom, that those who were willing to be excus'd from the War, should give either a Horse or a Man and often both. Thus Scipio going to Africa order'd the Sicilians either to attend him, or to give him Horses or Men: And Agesilaus being at Ephesus and wanting Cavalry, made a Proclamation, that the rich Men who wou'd not serve in the War should be dispens'd with, provided they furnish'd a Man and a Horse in their stead: In which, says Plutarch, he wisely follow'd the Example of King Agamemnon, who excus'd a very rich Coward from serving in Person, for a Present of a good Mare. Eustathius. Dacier.

Whom rich Echepolus, (more rich than brave)

To 'scape the Wars, to Agamemnon gave,
(Æthe her Name) at home to end his Days,
Base Wealth preferring to eternal Praise.
Next him Antilochus demands the Course,
With beating Heart, and chears his Pylian Horse.

Verse 369. Experienc'd Nestor , &c.] The Poet omits no Opportunity of paying Honour to his old favourite Nestor, and I think he is no where more particularly complemented than in this Book. His Age had disabled him from bearing any share in the Games; and yet he artfully introduces him not as a mere Spectator, but as an Actor in the Sports. Thus he as it were wins the Prize for Antilochus, Antilochus wins not by the Swiftness of his Horses, but by the Wisdom of Nestor.

This fatherly Tenderness is wonderfully natural: We see him in all imaginable Inquietude and Concern for his Son; He comes to the Barrier, stands beside the Chariot, animates his Son by his Praises, and directs him by his Lessons: You think the old Man's Soul mounts on the Chariot with his Antilochus, to partake the same Dangers, and run the same Career.

Nothing can be better adapted to the Character than this Speech; he expatiates upon the Advantages of Wisdom over Strength, which is a tacit Complement to himself: And had there been a Prize for Wisdom, undoubtedly the old Man would have claim'd it as his Right. Eustathius.

Experienc'd Nestor gives the Son the Reins,

Directs his Judgment, and his Heat restrains;
Nor idly warns the hoary Sire, nor hears
The prudent Son with unattending Ears.
My Son! tho' youthful Ardor fire thy Berast,
The Gods have lov'd thee, and with Arts have blest.
Neptune and Jove on thee conferr'd the Skill,
Swift round the Goal to turn the flying Wheel.
To guide thy Conduct, little Precept needs;
But slow, and past their Vigour, are my Steeds.
Fear not thy Rivals, tho' for Swiftness known,
Compare those Rivals Judgment, and thy own:
It is not Strength, but Art, obtains the Prize,
And to be swift is less than to be wise:

79

'Tis more by Art, than Force of num'rous Strokes,
The dext'rous Woodman shapes the stubborn Oaks;
By Art, the Pilot thro' the boiling Deep
And howling Tempest, stears the fearless Ship;
And 'tis the Artist wins the glorious Course,
Not those, who trust in Chariots and in Horse.
In vain unskilfull to the Goal they strive,
And short, or wide, th'ungovern'd Courser drive:
While with sure Skill, tho' with inferior Steeds,
The knowing Racer to his End proceeds;
Fix'd on the Goal his Eye fore-runs the Course,
His Hand unerring steers the steady Horse,
And now contracts, or now extends the Rein,
Observing still the foremost on the Plain.
Mark then the Goal, 'tis easy to be found;
Yon' aged Trunk, a Cubit from the Ground;
Of some once-stately Oak the last Remains,
Or hardy Fir, unperish'd with the Rains.
Inclos'd with Stones conspicuous from afar,
And round, a Circle for the wheeling Car.
(Some Tomb perhaps of old, the Dead to grace;
Or then, as now, the Limit of a Race)

80

Bear close to this, and warily proceed,
A little bending to the left-hand Steed;
But urge the Right, and give him all the Reins;
While thy strict Hand his Fellows Head restrains,
And turns him short; till, doubling as they roll,
The Wheel's round Naves appear to brush the Goal.
Yet (not to break the Car, or lame the Horse)
Clear of the stony Heap direct the Course;
Lest thro' Incaution failing, thou may'st be
A Joy to others, a Reproach to me.
So shalt thou pass the Goal, secure of Mind,
And leave unskilful Swiftness far behind.
Tho' thy fierce Rival drove the matchless Steed
Which bore Adrastus, of celestial Breed;
Or the fam'd Race thro' all the Regions known,
That whirl'd the Car of proud Laomedon.
Thus, (nought unsaid) the much-advising Sage
Concludes; then sate, stiff with unwieldy Age.
Next bold Meriones was seen to rise,
The last, but not least ardent for the Prize.

Verse 426. The Lots their place dispose.] According to these Lots the Charioteers took their Places; but to know whether they stood all in an equal Front, or one behind the other, is a Difficulty: Eustathius says the Ancients were of Opinion that they did not stand in one Front; because it is evident that he who had the first Lot had a great Advantage of the other Charioteers: If he had not, why should Achilles cast Lots? Madam Dacier is of Opinion that they all stood a-breast at the Barrier, and that the first would still have a sufficient Advantage, as he was nearer the Bound, and stood within the rest, whereas the others must take a larger Circle, and consequently were forc'd to run a greater Compass of Ground. Phœnix was plac'd as an Inspector of the Race, that is, says Eustathius, he was to make report whether they had observ'd the Laws of the Race in their several Turnings.

Sophocles observes the same Method with Homer in relation to the Lots and Inspectors, in his Electra.

------ Οι τεταγμενοι βραβεις
Κληροις επηλαν και κατεστησαν διφρον.

The constituted Judges assign'd the Places according to the Lots.

The Ancients say that the Charioteers started at the Sigæum, where the Ships of Achilles lay, and ran towards the Rhæteum, from the Ships towards the Shores. But Aristarchus affirm'd that they run in the Compass of Ground of five Stadia, which lay between the Wall and the Tents toward the Shore. Eustathius.

They mount their Seats; the Lots their Place dispose;

(Roll'd in his Helmet, these Achilles throws)

81

Young Nestor leads the Race: Eumelus then;
And next, the Brother of the King of Men:
Thy Lot, Meriones, the fourth was cast;
And, far the bravest, Diomed, was last.
They stand in order, an impatient Train;
Pelides points the Barrier on the Plain,
And sends before old Phœnix to the Place,
To mark the Racers, and to judge the Race.
At once the Coursers from the Barrier bound;
The lifted Scourges all at once resound;
Their Heart, their Eyes, their Voice, they send before;
And up the Champain thunder from the Shore:
Thick, where they drive, the dusty Clouds arise,
And the lost Courser in the Whirlwind flies;
Loose on their Shoulders the long Manes reclin'd,
Float in their Speed, and dance upon the Wind:
The smoaking Chariots, rapid as they bound,
Now seem to touch the Sky, and now the Ground.
While hot for Fame, and Conquest all their Care,
(Each o'er his flying Courser hung in Air)
Erect with Ardour, pois'd upon the Rein,
They pant, they stretch, they shout along the Plain.

82

Now, (the last Compass fetch'd around the Goal)
At the near Prize each gathers all his Soul,
Each burns with double Hope, with double Pain,
Tears up the Shore, and thunders tow'rd the Main.
First flew Eumelus on Pheretian Steeds;
With those of Tros, bold Diomed succeeds:
Close on Eumelus' Back they puff the Wind,

Verse 457. And seem just mounting on his Car behind.] A more natural Image than this could not be thought of. The Poet makes us Spectators of the Race, we see Diomed pressing upon Eumelus so closely, that his Chariot seems to climb the Chariot of Eumelus.

And seem just mounting on his Car behind;

Full on his Neck he feels the sultry Breeze,
And hov'ring o'er, their stretching Shadows sees.
Then had he lost, or left a doubtful Prize;
But angry Phœbus to Tydides flies,
Strikes from his Hand the Scourge, and renders vain
His matchless Horses labour on the Plain.

Verse 464. Rage fills his Eye with Anguish to survey, &c.] We have seen Diomed surrounded with innumerable Dangers, acting in the most perilous Scenes of Blood and Death, yet never shed one Tear: And now he weeps on a small occasion, for a mere Trifle: This must be ascrib'd to the Nature of Mankind, who are often transported with Trifles; and there are certain unguarded Moments in every Man's Life; so that he who could meet the greatest Dangers with Intrepidity, may thro' Anger be betray'd into an Indecency. Eustathius.

The reason why Apollo is angry at Diomed, according to Eustathius, is because he was interested for Eumelus, whose Mares he had fed, when he serv'd Admetus; but I fancy he is under a Mistake: This indeed is a Reason why he should favour Eumelus, but not why he should be angry at Diomed. I rather think that the Quarrel of Apollo with Diomed was personal; because he offer'd him a Violence in the first Book, and Apollo still resents it.

The Fiction of Minerva's assisting Diomed is grounded upon his being so wise as to take a couple of Whips to prevent any Mischance: So that Wisdom, or Pallas, may be said to lend him one. Eustathius.

Rage fills his Eye with Anguish, to survey

Snatch'd from his Hope, the Glories of the Day.
The Fraud celestial Pallas sees with Pain,
Springs to her Knight, and gives the Scourge again,
And fills his Steeds with Vigour. At a Stroke,
She breaks his Rivals Chariot from the Yoke;
No more their Way the startled Horses held;
The Car revers'd came rat'ling on the Field;

83

Shot headlong from his Seat, beside the Wheel,
Prone on the Dust th'unhappy Master fell;
His batter'd Face and Elbows strike the Ground;
Nose, Mouth and Front, one undistinguish'd Wound:
Grief stops his Voice, a Torrent drowns his Eyes;
Before him far the glad Tydides flies;
Minerva's Spirit drives his matchless Pace,
And crowns him Victor of the labour'd Race.
The next, tho' distant, Menelas succeeds;
While thus young Nestor animates his Steeds.
Now, now, my gen'rous Pair, exert your Force;
Not that we hope to match Tydides' Horse,
Since great Minerva wings their rapid Way,

Verse 486. The Speech of Antilochus to his Horses.] I fear Antilochus his Speech to his Horses is blameable; Eustathius himself seems to think it a Fault that he should speak so much in the very Heat of the Race. He commands and sooths, counsels and threatens his Horses, as if they were reasonable Creatures. The subsequent Speech of Menelaus is more excusable as it is more short, but both of them are spoken in a Passion, and Anger we know makes us speak to every thing, and we discharge it upon the most senseless Objects.

And gives their Lord the Honours of the Day.

But reach Atrides! Shall his Mare out-go
Your Swiftness? Vanquish'd by a female Foe?
Thro' your neglect if lagging on the Plain
The last ignoble Gift be all we gain;
No more shall Nestor's Hand your Food supply,
The old Man's Fury rises, and ye die.
Haste then; yon' narrow Road before our Sight
Presents th'occasion, could we use it right.

84

Thus He. The Coursers at their Master's Threat
With quicker Steps the sounding Champain beat.
And now Antilochus, with nice survey,
Observes the Compass of the hollow way.
'Twas where by Force of wintry Torrents torn,
Fast by the Road a Precipice was worn:
Here, where but one could pass, to shun the Throng
The Spartan Hero's Chariot smoak'd along.
Close up the vent'rous Youth resolves to keep,
Still edging near, and bears him tow'rd the Steep.
Atrides, trembling casts his Eye below,
And wonders at the Rashness of his Foe.
Hold, stay your Steeds—What Madness thus to ride?
This narrow way? Take larger Field (he cry'd)
Or both must fall—Atrides cry'd in vain;
He flies more fast, and throws up all the Rein.
Far as an able Arm the Disk can send,
When youthful Rivals their full Force extend,
So far Antilochus! thy Chariot flew
Before the King: He, cautious, backward drew
His Horse compell'd; foreboding in his Fears
The rattling Ruin of the clashing Cars,

85

The flound'ring Coursers rolling on the Plain,
And Conquest lost thro' frantick Haste to gain.
But thus upbraids his Rival as he flies;
Go, furious Youth! ungen'rous and unwise!
Go, but expect not I'll the Prize resign;
Add Perjury to Fraud, and make it thine.—
Then to his Steeds with all his Force he cries;
Be swift, be vig'rous, and regain the Prize!
Your Rivals, destitute of youthful Force,
With fainting Knees shall labour in the Course,
And yield the Glory yours—The Steeds obey;
Already at their Heels they wing their Way,
And seem already to retrieve the Day.
Meantime the Grecians in a Ring beheld
The Coursers bounding o'er the dusty Field.
The first who markd them was the Cretan King;
High on a rising Ground, above the Ring,
The Monarch sate; from whence with sure survey
He well observ'd the Chief who led the way,
And heard from far his animating Cries,
And saw the foremost Steed with sharpen'd Eyes;

86

On whose broad Front a Blaze of shining white,
Like the full Moon, stood obvious to the Sight.
He saw; and rising, to the Greeks begun.
Are yonder Horse discern'd by me alone?
Or can ye, all, another Chief survey,
And other Steeds, than lately led the Way?
Those, tho' the swiftest, by some God with-held,
Lie sure disabled in the middle Field:
For since the Goal they doubled, round the Plain
I search to find them, but I search in vain.
Perchance the Reins forsook the Driver's Hand,
And, turn'd too short, he tumbled on the Strand,
Shot from the Chariot; while his Coursers stray
With frantick Fury from the destin'd Way.
Rise then some other, and inform my Sight,
(For these dim Eyes, perhaps, discern not right)
Yet sure he seems, (to judge by Shape and Air,)
The great Ætolian Chief, renown'd in War.
Old Man! (Oïleus rashly thus replies)
Thy Tongue too hastily confers the Prize.
Of those who view the Course, not sharpest ey'd,
Nor youngest, yet the readiest to decide.

87

Eumelus' Steeds high-bounding in the Chace,
Still, as at first, unrivall'd lead the Race,
I well discern him, as he shakes the Rein,

Verse 563. The Dispute between Idomeneus and Ajax .] Nothing could be more naturally imagin'd than this Contention at a Horse-Race: The Leaders were divided into Parties, and each was interested for his Friend: The Poet had a two-fold Design, not only to embellish and diversify his Poem by such natural Circumstances, but also to shew us, as Eustathius observes, from the Conduct of Ajax, that passionate Men betray themselves into Follies, and are themselves guilty of the Faults of which they accuse others.

It is with a particular Decency that Homer makes Achilles the Arbitrator between Idomeneus and Ajax: Agamemnon was his Superior in the Army, but as Achilles exhibited the Shows he was the proper Judge of any Difference that should arise about them; had the Contest been between Ajax and Idomeneus, consider'd as Soldiers, the Cause must have been brought before Agamemnon; but as they are to be consider'd as Spectators of the Games, they ought to be determin'd by Achilles.

It may not be unnecessary just to observe to the Reader the Judiciousness of Homer's Conduct in making Achilles exhibit the Games, and not Agamemnon: Achilles is the Hero of the Poem, and consequently must be the chief Actor in all the great Scenes of it: He had remain'd inactive during a great Part of the Poem, yet the Poet makes his very Inactivity contribute to the carrying on the Design of his Ilias: And to supply his Absence from many of the busy Scenes of the preceding Parts of it, he now in the Conclusion makes him almost the sole Agent: By these means he leaves a noble Idea of his Hero upon the Mind of his Reader, and as he rais'd our Expectations when he brought him upon the Stage of Action, so he makes him go off with the utmost Pomp and Applause.

And hear his Shouts victorious o'er the Plain.

Thus he. Idomeneus incens'd rejoin'd:
Barb'rous of Words! and arrogant of Mind!
Contentious Prince! of all the Greeks beside
The last in Merit, as the first in Pride.
To vile Reproach what Answer can we make?
A Goblet or a Tripod let us stake,
And be the King the Judge. The most unwise
Will learn their Rashness, when they pay the Price.
He said: and Ajax by mad Passion born,
Stern had reply'd; fierce Scorn inhancing Scorn
To fell extreams. But Thetis' god-like Son,
Awful, amidst them rose; and thus begun.
Forbear ye Chiefs! reproachful to contend;
Much would ye blame, should others thus offend:
And lo! th'approaching Steeds your Contest end.
No sooner had he spoke, but thund'ring near
Drives, thro' a Stream of Dust, the Charioteer;

88

Verse 580. High o'er his Head the circling Lash he wields.] I am persuaded that the common Translation of the Word Κατωμαδον, in the Original of this Verse, is faulty: It is render'd, he lash'd the Horses continually over the Shoulders; whereas I fancy it should be translated thus, assiduè (Equos) agitabat scuticâ ab humero ductâ. This naturally expresses the very Action, and whirl of the Whip over the Driver's Shoulder, in the Act of lashing the Horses, and agrees with the Use of the same Word in the 431st Line of this Book, where ουρα δισκου κατωμαδ ιοιο must be translated Jactus Disci ab humero vibrati.

High o'er his Head the circling Lash he wields;

His bounding Horses scarcely touch the Fields:
His Car amidst the dusty Whirlwind roll'd,
Bright with the mingled Blaze of Tin and Gold,
Refulgent thro' the Cloud, no Eye could find
The Track his flying Wheels had left behind:
And the fierce Coursers urg'd their rapid Pace
So swift, it seem'd a Flight, and not a Race.
Now Victor at the Goal Tydides stands,
Quits his bright Car, and springs upon the Sands;
From the hot Steeds the sweaty Torrents stream;
The well-ply'd Whip is hung athwart the Beam;
With Joy brave Sthenelus receives the Prize,
The Tripod-Vase, and Dame with radiant Eyes:
These to the Ships his Train triumphant leads,
The Chief himself unyokes the panting Steeds.
Young Nestor follows (who by Art, not Force,
O'er-past Atrides) second in the Course.
Behind, Atrides urg'd the Race, or more near
Than to the Courser in his swift Career
The following Car, just touching with his Heel
And brushing with his Tail the whirling Wheel.

89

Such, and so narrow now the Space between
The Rivals, late so distant on the Green.
So soon swift Æthe her lost Ground regain'd,
One Length, one Moment had the Race obtain'd.
Merion pursu'd, at greater Distance still,
With tardier Coursers, and inferior Skill.
Last came, Admetus! thy unhappy Son;
Slow dragg'd the Steeds his batter'd Chariot on:
Achilles saw, and pitying thus begun.
Behold! the Man whose matchless Art surpast
The Sons of Greece! the ablest, yet the last!

Verse 613. Fortune denies, but Justice, &c.] Achilles here intends to shew, that it is not just Fortune should rule over Virtue, but that a brave Man who had perform'd his Duty, and who did not bring upon himself his Misfortune, ought to have the Recompence he has deserv'd: And this Principle is just, provided we do not reward him at the Expence of another's Right: Eumelus is a Thessalian, and it is probable Achilles has a Partiality to his Countryman. Dacier.

Fortune denies, but Justice bids us pay

(Since great Tydides bears the first away)
To him the second Honours of the Day.
The Greeks consent with loud applauding Cries,
And then Eumelus had receiv'd the Prize,
But youthful Nestor, jealous of his Fame,
Th'Award opposes, and asserts his Claim.
Think not (he cries) I tamely will resign
O Peleus Son! the Mare so justly mine.
What if the Gods, the Skilful to confound,
Have thrown the Horse and Horseman to the Ground?

90

Perhaps he sought not Heav'n by Sacrifice,
And Vows omitted forfeited the Prize.
If yet (Distinction to thy Friend to show,
And please a Soul, desirous to bestow,)
Some Gift must grace Eumelus; view thy Store
Of beauteous Handmaids, Steeds, and shining Ore,
An ample Present let him thence receive,
And Greece shall praise thy gen'rous Thirst to give.

Verse 632. But this, my Prize, I never shall forego— There is an Air of Bravery in this Discourse of Antilochus: He speaks with the Generosity of a gallant Soldier, and prefers his Honour to his Interest; he tells Achilles if he pleases he may make Eumelus a richer Present than his Prize; he is not concern'd for the Value of it, but as it was the Reward of Victory, he would not resign it, because that would be an Acknowledgment that Eumelus deserv'd it.

The Character of Antilochus is admirably sustain'd thro' this whole Episode; he is a very sensible Man, but transported with youthful Heat, and ambitious of Glory: His Rashness in driving so furiously against Menelaus must be imputed to this; but his Passions being gratify'd by the Conquest in the Race, his Reason again returns, he owns his Error, and is full of Resignation to Menelaus.

But this, my Prize, I never shall forego;

This, who but touches, Warriors! is my Foe.
Thus spake the Youth, nor did his Words offend;
Pleas'd with the well turn'd Flattery of a Friend,
Achilles smil'd: The Gift propos'd (he cry'd)
Antilochus! we shall our self provide.
With Plates of Brass the Corselet cover'd o'er,
(The same renown'd Asteropæus wore)
Whose glitt'ring Margins rais'd with Silver shine;
No vulgar Gift) Eumelus, shall be thine.
He said: Automedon at his Command
The Corselet brought, and gave it to his Hand.
Distinguish'd by his Friend, his Bosom glows
With gen'rous Joy: Then Menelaus rose;

91

The Herald plac'd the Sceptre in his Hands,
And still'd the Clamour of the shouting Bands.
Not without Cause incens'd at Nestor's Son,
And inly grieving, thus the King begun:
The Praise of Wisdom, in thy Youth obtain'd,
An Act so rash (Antilochus) has stain'd.
Robb'd of my Glory and my just Reward,
To you O Grecians! be my Wrong declar'd:
So not a Leader shall our Conduct blame,
Or judge me envious of a Rival's Fame.
But shall not we, ourselves, the Truth maintain?
What needs appealing in a Fact so plain?
What Greek shall blame me, if I bid thee rise,
And vindicate by Oath th'ill-gotten Prize.
Rise if thou dar'st, before thy Chariot stand,
The driving Scourge high-lifted in thy Hand,

Verse 662. And touch the Steeds, and swear—] 'Tis evident, says Eustathius, from hence, that all Fraud was forbid in the Chariot-Race; but it is not very plain what unlawful Deceit Antilochus used against Menelaus; perhaps Antilochus in his Haste had declin'd from the Race-Ground, and avoided some of the uneven Places of it, and consequently took an unfair Advantage of his Adversary; or perhaps his driving so furiously against Menelaus as to endanger both their Chariots and their Lives, might be reckon'd foul play; and therefore Antilochus refuses to take the Oath.

And touch thy Steeds, and swear, thy whole Intent

Was but to conquer, not to circumvent.
Swear by that God whose liquid Arms surround
The Globe, and whose dread Earthquakes heave the Ground.
The prudent Chief with calm Attention heard;
Then mildly thus: Excuse, if Youth have err'd;

92

Superior as thou art, forgive th'Offence,
Nor I thy Equal, or in Years, or Sense.
Thou know'st the Errors of unripen'd Age,
Weak are its Counsels, headlong is its Rage.
The Prize I quit, if thou thy Wrath resign;
The Mare, or ought thou ask'st, be freely thine,
E'er I become (from thy dear Friendship torn)
Hateful to thee, and to the Gods forsworn.
So spoke Antilochus; and at the Word
The Mare contested to the King restor'd.

Verse 678. Joy swells his Soul, as when the vernal Grain, &c.] Eustathius is very large in the Explication of this Similitude, which at the first view seems obscure: His Words are these

As the Dew raises the Blades of Corn, that are for want of it weak and depressed, and by pervading the Pores of the Corn animates and makes it flourish, so did the Behaviour of Antilochus raise the dejected Mind of Menelaus, exalt his Spirits, and restore him to a full Satisfaction.

I have given the Reader his Interpretation, and translated it with the Liberty of Poetry: It is very much in the Language of Scripture, and in the Spirit of the Orientals.

Joy swells his Soul, as when the vernal Grain

Lifts the green Ear above the springing Plain,
The Fields their Vegetable Life renew,
And laugh and glitter with the Morning Dew:
Such Joy the Spartan's shining Face o'erspread,
And lifted his gay Heart, while thus he said.
Still may our Souls, O gen'rous Youth! agree,
'Tis now Atrides' turn to yield to thee.
Rash Heat perhaps a Moment might controul,
Not break, the settled Temper of thy Soul.
Not but (my Friend) 'tis still the wiser way
To wave Contention with superior Sway;

93

For ah! how few, who should like thee offend,
Like thee, have Talents to regain the Friend?
To plead Indulgence and thy Fault attone,
Suffice thy Father's Merits, and thy own:
Gen'rous alike, for me, the Sire and Son
Have greatly suffer'd, and have greatly done.
I yield; that all may know, my Soul can bend,
Nor is my Pride preferr'd before my Friend.
He said; and pleas'd his Passion to command,
Resign'd the Courser to Noëmon's Hand,
Friend of the youthful Chief: Himself content,
The shining Charger to his Vessel sent.
The golden Talents Merion next obtain'd;
The fifth Reward, the double Bowl, remain'd.
Achilles this to rev'rend Nestor bears,
And thus the purpose of his Gift declares.

Verse 706. Accept thou this, O sacred Sire!] The Poet in my Opinion preserves a great deal of Decency towards this old Hero, and venerable Counsellour: He gives him an honorary Reward for his superior Wisdom, and therefore Achilles calls it αεθλον, and not δωρον, a Prize, and not a Present. The Moral of Homer is, that Princes ought no less to honour and recompense those who excel in Wisdom and Counsel, than those who are capable of actual Service.

Achilles, perhaps, had a double view in paying him this Respect, not only out of Deference to his Age, and Wisdom, but also because he had, in a manner, won the Prize by the Advice he gave his Son: So that Nestor may be said to have conquer'd in the Person of Antilochus. Eustathius.

Accept thou this, O sacred Sire! (he said)

In dear Memorial of Patroclus dead;
Dead, and for ever lost Patroclus lies,
For ever snatch'd from our desiring Eyes!
Take thou this Token of a grateful Heart,
Tho' 'tis not thine to hurl the distant Dart,

94

The Quoit to toss, the pond'rous Mace to wield,
Or urge the Race, or wrestle on the Field.
Thy present Vigour Age has overthrown,
But left the Glory of the past thy own.
He said, and plac'd the Goblet at his side;

Verse 718. Nestor's Speech to Achilles .] This Speech is admirably well adapted to the Character of Nestor: He aggrandizes, with an Infirmity peculiar to Age, his own Exploits; and one would think Horace had him in his Eye,

------ Laudatur temporis acti
Se puero------

Neither is it any Blemish to the Character of Nestor thus to be a little talkative about his own Atchievements: To have describ'd him otherwise would have been an Outrage to human Nature, in as much as the wisest Man living is not free from the Infirmities of Man: and as every Stage of Life has some Imperfection peculiar to it self.

------ Ο μεν εμπεδον ηνιοχευεν,
------ Εμπεδον ηνιοχευ.

The Reader may observe that the old Man takes abundance of pains to give Reasons how his Rivals came to be Victors in the Chariot-Race: He is very solicitous to make it appear that it was not thro' any want of Skill or Power in himself: And in my Opinion Nestor is never more vainglorious than in this recital of his own Disappointment.

It is for the same reason he repeats the Words I have cited above: He obtrudes (by that Repetition) the Disadvantages under which he labour'd, upon the Observation of the Reader, for fear he should impute the Loss of the Victory to his want of Skill.

Nestor says that these Moliones overpower'd him by their Number. The Criticks, as Eustathius remarks, have labour'd hard to explain this Difficulty; they tell us a formal Story, that when Nestor was ready to enter the Lists against these Brothers, he objected against them as unfair Adversaries, (for it must be remember'd that they were Monsters that grew together, and consequently had four Hands to Nestor's two) but the Judges would not allow his plea, but determin'd, that as they grew together so they ought to be consider'd as one Man.

Others tell us, that they brought several Chariots into the Lists, whose Charioteers combin'd together in favour of Eurytus and Cteatus, these brother-Monsters.

Others say, that the Multitude of the Spectators conspir'd to disappoint Nestor.

I thought it necessary to give my Reader these several Conjectures; that he might understand why Nestor says he was overpower'd by Πληθει, or Numbers; and also, because it confirms my former Observation, that Nestor is very careful to draw his own Picture in the strongest Colours, and to shew it in the fairest Light.

With Joy, the venerable King reply'd.

Wisely and well, my Son, thy Words have prov'd
A Senior honour'd, and a Friend belov'd!
Too true it is, deserted of my Strength,
These wither'd Arms and Limbs have fail'd at length.
Oh! had I now that Force I felt of yore,
Known thro' Buprasium and the Pylian Shore!
Victorious then in ev'ry solemn Game
Ordain'd to Amarynces' mighty Name;
The brave Epeians gave my Glory way,
Ætolians, Pylians, all resign'd the Day.
I quell'd Clytomedes in Fights of Hand,
And backward hurl'd Ancæus on the Sand,
Surpast Iphyclus in the swift Career,
Phyleus and Polydorus, with the Spear.
The Sons of Actor won the Prize of Horse,
But won by Numbers, not by Art or Force:

95

For the fam'd Twins, impatient to survey
Prize after Prize by Nestor born away,
Sprung to their Car; and with united Pains
One lash'd the Coursers, while one rul'd the Reins.
Such once I was! Now to these Tasks succeeds
A younger Race, that emulate our Deeds:
I yield alas! (to Age who must not yield?)
Tho' once the foremost Hero of the Field.
Go thou, my Son! by gen'rous Friendship led,
With martial Honours decorate the Dead;
While pleas'd I take the Gift thy Hands present,
(Pledge of Benevolence, and kind Intent)
Rejoic'd, of all the num'rous Greeks, to see
Not one but honours sacred Age and me:
Those due distinctions thou so well can'st pay,
May the just Gods return another Day.
Proud of the Gift, thus spake the Full of Days:
Achilles heard him, prouder of the Praise.
The Prizes next are order'd to the Field
For the bold Champions who the Cæstus wield.
A stately Mule, as yet by Toils unbroke,
Of six years Age, unconscious of the Yoke,

96

Is to the Circus led, and firmly bound;
Next stands a Goblet, massy, large and round.
Achilles rising, thus: Let Greece excite
Two Heroes equal to this hardy Fight;
Who dares his Foe with lifted Arms provoke,
And rush beneath the long-descending Stroke?
On whom Apollo shall the Palm bestow,
And whom the Greeks supreme by Conquest know,
This Mule his dauntless Labours shall repay;
The Vanquish'd bear the massy Bowl away.
This dreadful Combate great Epæus chose,
High o'er the Crowd, enormous Bulk! he rose,
And seiz'd the Beast, and thus began to say:
Stand forth some Man, to bear the Bowl away!
(Price of his Ruin:) For who dares deny
This Mule my right? th'undoubted Victor I,
Others 'tis own'd, in Fields of Battle shine,
But the first Honours of this Fight are mine;
For who excells in all? Then let my Foe
Draw near, but first his certain Fortune know,
Secure, this Hand shall his whole Frame confound,
Mash all his Bones, and all his Body pound:

97

So let his Friends be nigh, a needful Train
To heave the batter'd Carcase off the Plain.
The Giant spoke; and in a stupid Gaze
The Host beheld him, silent with Amaze!
'Twas thou, Euryalus! who durst aspire
To meet his Might, and emulate thy Sire,
The great Mecistheus; who in Days of yore
In Theban Games the noblest Trophy bore,
(The Games ordain'd dead Oedipus to grace)
And singly vanquish'd the Cadmæan Race.
Him great Tydides urges to contend,
Warm with the Hopes of Conquest for his Friend,
Officious with the Cincture girds him round;
And to his Wrists the Gloves of Death are bound.
Amid the Circle now each Champion stands,
And poises high in Air his Iron Hands;
With clashing Gantlets now they fiercely close,
Their crackling Jaws re-echoe to the Blows,
And painful Sweat from all their Members flows.
At length Epæus dealt a weighty Blow
Full on the Cheek of his unwary Foe;

98

Beneath that pond'rous Arm's resistless Sway
Down dropt he, nerveless, and extended lay.
As a large Fish, when Winds and Waters roar,
By some huge Billow dash'd against the Shore,
Lies panting: Not less batter'd with his Wound,
The bleeding Hero pants upon the Ground.
To rear his fallen Foe, the Victor lends
Scornful, his Hand; and gives him to his Friends;
Whose Arms support him, reeling thro' the Throng,
And dragging his disabled Legs along;
Nodding, his Head hangs down his Shoulder o'er;
His Mouth and Nostrils pour the clotted Gore;
Wrapt round in Mists he lies, and lost to Thought:
His Friends receive the Bowl, too dearly bought.
The third bold Game Achilles next demands,
And calls the Wrestlers to the level Sands:
A massy Tripod for the Victor lies,
Of twice six Oxen its reputed Price;
And next, the Losers Spirits to restore,

Verse 820. A female Captive valu'd but at four.] I cannot in Civility neglect a Remark made upon this Passage by Madam Dacier, who highly resents the Affront put upon her Sex by the Ancients, who set (it seems) thrice the Value upon a Tripod as upon a beautiful female Slave: Nay, she is afraid the Value of Women is not rais'd even in our Days; for she says there are curious Persons now living who had rather have a true antique Kettle, than the finest Woman alive: I confess I entirely agree with the Lady, and must impute such Opinions of the fair Sex to want of Taste in both Ancients and Moderns: The Reader may remember that these Tripods were of no use, but made entirely for Show, and consequently the most satyrical Critick could only say, the Woman and Tripod ought to have born an equal Value.

A female Captive, valu'd but at four.

Scarce did the Chief the vig'rous Strife propose,
When tow'r-like Ajax and Ulysses rose.

99

Amid the Ring each nervous Rival stands,
Embracing rigid with implicit Hands:
Close lock'd above, their Heads and Arms are mixt;
Below, their planted Feet at distance fixt:

Verse 827. Like two strong Rafters, &c.] I will give the Reader the Words of Eustathius upon this Similitude, which very happily represents the Wrestlers in the Posture of Wrestling. Their Heads lean'd one against the other, like the Rafters that support the Roof of a House; at the Foot they are disjoin'd, and stand at a greater Distance, which naturally paints the Attitude of Body in these two Wrestlers, while they contend for Victory.

Like two strong Rafters which the Builder forms

Proof to the wintry Winds and howling Storms,
Their Tops connected, but at wider space
Fixt on the Center stands their solid Base.
Now to the Grasp each manly Body bends;
The humid Sweat from ev'ry Pore descends;
Their Bones resound with Blows: Sides, Shoulders, Thighs
Swell to each Gripe, and bloody Tumours rise.
Nor could Ulysses, for his Art renown'd,
O'erturn the Strength of Ajax on the Ground;
Nor could the Strength of Ajax overthrow
The watchful Caution of his artful Foe.
While the long Strife ev'n tir'd the Lookers-on,
Thus to Ulysses spoke great Telamon.
Or let me lift thee, Chief, or lift thou me:
Prove we our Force, and Jove the rest decree.
He said; and straining, heav'd him off the Ground
With matchless Strength; that time Ulysses found

100

The Strength t'evade, and where the Nerves combine,
His Ankle strook: The Giant fell supine:
Ulysses following, on his Bosom lies;
Shouts of Applause run rattling thro the Skies.
Ajax to lift, Ulysses next essays,

Verse 850. He barely stirr'd him, but he could not raise.] The Poet by this Circumstance excellently maintains the Character of Ajax, who has all along been describ'd as a strong, unweildy Warrior: He is so heavy that Ulysses can scarce lift him. The Words that follow will bear a different Meaning, either that Ajax lock'd his Leg within that of Ulysses, or that Ulysses did it. Eustathius observes, that if Ajax gave Ulysses this Shock, then he may be allow'd to have some appearance of an Equality in the Contest, but if Ulysses gave it, then Ajax must be acknowledg'd to have been foil'd: But (continues he) it appear'd to be otherwise to Achilles, who was the Judge of the Field, and therefore he gives them an equal Prize, because they were equal in the Contest.

Madam Dacier misrepresents Eustathius on this Place, in saying he thinks it was Ulysses who gave this second Stroke to Ajax, whereas it appears by the foregoing Note that he rather determines otherwise in consent with the Judgment given by Achilles.

He barely stirr'd him, but he could not raise:

His Knee lock'd fast the Foe's Attempt deny'd;
And grappling close, they tumble side by side.
Defil'd with honourable Dust, they roll,
Still breathing Strife, and unsubdu'd of Soul:
Again they rage, again to Combat rise;
When great Achilles thus divides the Prize.
Your noble Vigour, oh my Friends restrain;
Nor weary out your gen'rous Strength in vain.
Ye both have won: Let others who excell
Now prove that Prowess you have prov'd so well.
The Hero's Words the willing Chiefs obey,
From their tir'd Bodies wipe the Dust away,
And, cloth'd anew, the following Games survey.
And now succeed the Gifts, ordain'd to grace
The Youths contending in the rapid Race.

101

A silver Urn; that full six Measures held,
By none in Weight or Workmanship excell'd:
Sidonian Artists taught the Frame to shine,
Elaborate, with Artifice divine;
Whence Tyrian Sailors did the Prize transport,
And gave to Thoas at the Lemnian Port:
From him descended good Eunæus heir'd
The glorious Gift; and, for Lycaon spar'd,
To brave Patroclus gave the rich Reward.
Now, the same Hero's Funeral Rites to grace,
It stands the Prize of Swiftness in the Race.
A well-fed Ox was for the second plac'd;
And half a Talent must content the last.
Achilles rising then bespoke the Train:
Who hopes the Palm of Swiftness to obtain,
Stand forth, and bear these Prizes from the Plain.
The Hero said, and starting from his Place
Oïlean Ajax rises to the Race;
Ulysses next; and he whose Speed surpast
His youthful Equals, Nestor's Son the last.
Rang'd in a Line the ready Racers stand;
Pelides points the Barrier with his Hand;

102

All start at once; Oïleus led the Race;
The next Ulysses, meas'ring Pace with Pace;
Behind him, diligently close, he sped,
As closely following as the running Thread
The Spindle follows, and displays the Charms
Of the fair Spinster's Breast, and moving Arms:
Graceful in Motion thus, his Foe he plies,
And treads each Footstep e'er the Dust can rise:
His glowing Breath upon his Shoulders plays;
Th'admiring Greeks loud Acclamations raise,
To him they give their Wishes, Hearts, and Eyes,
And send their Souls before him as he flies.
Now three times turn'd in prospect of the Goal,
The panting Chief to Pallas lifts his Soul:

Verse 902. Assist O Goddess! (thus in Thought he pray'd)] Nothing could be better adapted to the present Circumstance of Ulysses than this Prayer: It is short, and ought to be so, because the Time would not allow him to make a longer; nay he prefers this Petition mentally, ον κατα θυμον; all his Faculties are so bent upon the Race, that he does not call off his Attention from it, even to speak so short a Petition as seven Words, which comprehend the whole of it: Such Passages as these are Instances of great Judgment in the Poet.

Assist O Goddess! (thus in Thought he pray'd)

And present at his Thought, descends the Maid.
Buoy'd by her heav'nly Force, he seems to swim,
And feels a Pinion lifting ev'ry Limb.
All fierce, and ready now the Prize to gain,
Unhappy Ajax stumbles on the Plain;
(O'erturn'd by Pallas) where the slipp'ry Shore
Was clogg'd with slimy Dung, and mingled Gore.

103

(The self-same Place beside Patroclus' Pyre,
Where late the slaughter'd Victims fed the Fire)
Besmear'd with Filth, and blotted o'er with Clay,
Obscene to sight, the ruefull Racer lay;
The well-fed Bull (the second Prize) he shar'd,
And left the Urn Ulysses' rich Reward.
Then, grasping by the Horn the mighty Beast,
The baffled Hero thus the Greeks addrest.
Accursed Fate! the Conquest I forego;
A Mortal I, a Goddess was my Foe:
She urg'd her Fav'rite on the rapid Way,
And Pallas, not Ulysses won the Day.
Thus sow'rly wail'd he, sputt'ring Dirt and Gore;
A burst of Laughter echo'd thro' the Shore.
Antilochus, more hum'rous than the rest,

Verse 926. And takes it with a Jest.] Antilochus comes off very well, and wittily prevents Raillery; by attributing the Victory of his Rivals to the Protection which the Gods gave to Age. By this he insinuates, that he has something to comfort himself with; (for Youth is better than the Prize) and that he may pretend hereafter to the same Protection, since 'tis a Privilege of Seniority. Dacier.

Takes the last Prize, and takes it with a Jest.

Why with our wiser Elders should we strive?
The Gods still love them, and they always thrive.
Ye see, to Ajax I must yield the Prize;
He to Ulysses, still more ag'd and wise;
(A green old Age unconscious of Decays,
That proves the Hero born in better Days!)

104

Behold his Vigor in this active Race!
Achilles only boasts a swifter Pace:

Verse 935. For who can match Achilles ?] There is great Art in these transient Complements to Achilles: That Hero could not possibly shew his own Superiority in these Games by contending for any of the Prizes, because he was the Exhibiter of the Sports: But Homer has found out a way to give him the Victory in two of them. In the Chariot-Race Achilles is represented as being able to conquer every Opponent, and tho' he speaks it himself, the Poet brings it in so happily, that he speaks it without any Indecency: And in this place Antilochus with a very good grace tells Achilles, that in the Foot-Race no one can dispute the Prize with him. Thus tho' Diomed and Ulysses conquer in the Chariot and Foot-Race, it is only because Achilles is not their Antagonist.

For who can match Achilles? He who can,

Must yet be more than Hero, or than Man.
Th'Effect succeeds the Speech. Pelides cries,
Thy artful Praise deserves a better Prize.
Nor Greece in vain shall hear thy Friend extoll'd;
Receive a Talent of the purest Gold.
The Youth departs content. The Hosts admire
The Son of Nestor, worthy of his Sire.
Next these a Buckler, Spear and Helm, he brings,
Cast on the Plain the brazen Burthen rings:
Arms, which of late divine Sarpedon wore,
And great Patroclus in short Triumph bore.
Stand forth the bravest of our Host! (he cries)
Whoever dares deserve so rich a Prize!
Now grace the Lists before our Army's Sight,
And sheath'd in Steel, provoke his Foe to fight.

Verse 951. Who first the jointed Armour shall explore.] Some of the Ancients have been shock'd at this Combat, thinking it a Barbarity that Men in Sport should thus contend for their Lives; and therefore Aristophanes the Grammarian made this Alteration in the Verses.

Οπποτερος κεν πρωτος επιγραψας χροα καλον
Φθηη επευξαμενος δια δ' εντεα, &c.

But it is evident that they entirely mistook the Meaning and Intention of Achilles; for he that gave the first Wound was to be accounted the Victor. How could Achilles promise to entertain them both in his Tent after the Combat, if he intended that one of them should fall in it? This Duel therefore was only a Tryal of Skill, and as such single Combats were frequent in the Wars of those Ages against Adversaries, so this was proposed only to shew the Dexterity of the Combatants in that Exercise. Eustathius.

Who first the jointed Armour shall explore,

And stain his Rival's Mail with issuing Gore;
The Sword, Asteropeus possest of old,
(A Thracian Blade, distinct with Studs of Gold)

105

Shall pay the Stroke, and grace the Striker's Side:
These Arms in common let the Chief divide:
For each brave Champion, when the Combat ends,
A sumptuous Banquet at our Tent attends.
Fierce, at the Word, uprose great Tydeus' Son,
And the huge Bulk of Ajax Telamon.
Clad in refulgent Steel on either hand,
The dreadful Chiefs amid the Circle stand:
Low'ring they meet, tremendous to the Sight;
Each Argive Bosom beats with fierce Delight.
Oppos'd in Arms not long they idly stood,
But thrice they clos'd, and thrice the Charge renew'd.
A furious Pass the Spear of Ajax made
Thro' the broad Shield, but at the Corselet stay'd:
Not thus the Foe: His Jav'lin aim'd above
The Buckler's Margin, at the Neck he drove.
But Greece now trembling for her Hero's Life,
Bade share the Honours, and surcease the Strife.

Verse 973. Yet still the Victor's Due Tydides gains.] Achilles In this place acts the part of a very just Arbitrator: Tho' the Combat did not proceed to a full issue, yet Diomed had evidently the Advantage, and consequently ought to be rewarded as Victor, because he would have been victorious, had not the Greeks interpos'd.

I could have wish'd that the Poet had given Ajax the Prize in some of these Contests. He undoubtedly was a very gallant Soldier, and has been describ'd as repulsing a whole Army; yet in all these Sports he is foil'd. But perhaps the Poet had a double View in this Representation, not only to shew, that Strength without Conduct is usually unsuccessful, but also his Design might be to complement the Greeks his Countreymen; by shewing that this Ajax, who had repell'd a whole Army of Trojans was not able to conquer any one of the Grecian Worthies: For we find him overpower'd in three of these Exercises.

Yet still the Victor's Due Tydides gains,

With him the Sword and studded Belt remains.
Then hurl'd the Hero, thund'ring on the Ground
A Mass of Iron, (an enormous Round)

106

Whose Weight and Size the circling Greeks admire,
Rude from the Furnace, and but shap'd by Fire.
This mighty Quoit Aëtion wont to rear,
And from his whirling Arm dismiss in Air:
The Giant by Achilles slain, he stow'd
Among his Spoils this memorable Load.
For this, he bids those nervous Artists vie,
That teach the Disk to sound along the Sky.
Let him whose Might can hurl this Bowl, arise,
Who farthest hurls it, take it as his Prize:

Verse 987. If he be one, enrich'd, &c.] The Poet in this place speaks in the Simplicity of ancient Times: The prodigious Weight and Size of the Quoit is describ'd with a noble Plainness, peculiar to the oriental way, and agreeable to the Manners of those heroick Ages. He does not set down the Quantity of this enormous piece of Iron, neither as to its Bigness nor Weight, but as to the Use it will be of to him who shall gain it. We see from hence, that the Ancients in the Prizes they propos'd, had in view not only the Honourable, but the Useful; a Captive for Work, a Bull for Tillage, a Quoit for the Provision of Iron. Besides it must be remember'd, that in those Times Iron was very scarce; and a sure sign of this Scarcity, is, that their Arms were Brass. Eustath. Dacier.

If he be one, enrich'd with large Domain

Of Downs for Flocks, and Arable for Grain,
Small Stock of Iron needs that Man provide;
His Hinds and Swains whole years shall be supply'd
From hence: Nor ask the neighb'ring City's Aid,
For Plowshares, Wheels, and all the rural Trade.
Stern Polyphætes stept before the Throng,
And great Leonteus, more than mortal strong;
Whose Force with rival Forces to oppose,
Uprose great Ajax; up Epæus rose.
Each stood in order: First Epæus threw;
High o'er the wond'ring Crowds the whirling Circle flew

107

Leonteus next a little space surpast,
And third, the Strength of god-like Ajax cast.
O'er both their Marks it flew; till fiercely flung
From Polypætes Arm, the Discus sung:
Far, as a Swain his whirling Sheephook throws,
That distant falls among the grazing Cows,
So past them all the rapid Circle flies:
His Friends (while loud Applauses shake the Skies)
With Force conjoin'd heave off the weighty Prize.
Those, who in skilful Archery contend
He next invites the twanging Bow to bend:
And twice ten Axes casts amidst the Round,
(Ten double-edg'd, and ten that singly wound.)
The Mast, which late a first-rate Galley bore,
The Hero fixes in the sandy Shore:
To the tall Top a milk-white Dove they tye,
The trembling Mark at which their Arrows fly.
Whose Weapon strikes yon' flutt'ring Bird, shall bear
These two-edg'd Axes, terrible in War;
The single, he, whose Shaft divides the Cord.
He said: Experienc'd Merion took the Word;

108

And skilful Teucer: In the Helm they threw
Their Lots inscrib'd, and forth the latter flew.
Swift from the String the sounding Arrow flies;
But flies unblest! No grateful Sacrifice,
No firstling Lambs, unheedful! didst thou vow,
To Phœbus, Patron of the Shaft and Bow.
For this, thy well-aim'd Arrow, turn'd aside,
Err'd from the Dove, yet cut the Cord that ty'd:
A-down the Main-mast fell the parted String,
And the free Bird to Heav'n displays her Wing:
Seas, Shores, and Skies with loud Applause resound,
And Merion eager meditates the Wound;

Verse 1032. He takes the Bow.] There having been many Editions of Homer, that of Marseilles represents these two Rivals in Archery as using two Bows in the Contest; and reads the Verses thus,

Σπερχομενος δ' αρα Μηριονης επεθη κατ' οιστον
Τοξω εν γαρ χερσιν εχε παλα, ως ιθυνεν.

Our common Editions follow the better Alteration of Antimachus, with this only Difference, that he reads it

Εξειρυσε τευκρου τοξον. And they, Εξειρυσε χειρος τοξον.

It is evident that these Archers had but one Bow, as they that threw the Quoit had but one Quoit; by these means the one had no Advantage over the other, because both of them shot with the same Bow. So that the common Reading is undoubtedly the best, where the Lines stand thus,

Σπερχομενος δ' αρα Μηριονης εξειρυσε χειρος or Τευκρου
Τοξον, αταρ δη οιστον εχε παλαι ως ιθυνεν.
Eustath.

This Teucer is the most eminent Man for Archery of any thro' the whole Iliad, yet he is here excell'd by Meriones: And the Poet ascribes his Miscarriage to the neglect of invoking Apollo, the God of Archery; whereas Meriones, who invokes him, is crown'd with Success. There is an excellent Moral in this Passage, and the Poet would teach us, that without addressing to Heaven we cannot succeed: Meriones does not conquer because he is the better Archer, but because he is the better Man.

He takes the Bow, directs the Shaft above,

And following with his Eye the soaring Dove,
Implores the God to speed it thro' the Skies,
With Vows of firstling Lambs, and grateful Sacrifice.
The Dove, in airy Circles as she wheels,
Amid the Clouds the piercing Arrow feels;
Quite thro' and thro' the Point its Passage found,
And at his Feet fell bloody to the Ground.
The wounded Bird, e'er yet she breath'd her last,
With flagging Wings alighted on the Mast,

109

A Moment hung, and spread her Pinions there,
Then sudden dropt, and left her Life in Air.
From the pleas'd Crowd new Peals of Thunder rise,
And to the Ships brave Merion bears the Prize.
To close the Fun'ral Games, Achilles last
A massy Spear amid the Circle plac'd,
And ample Charger of unsullyed Frame,
With Flow'rs high-wrought, not blacken'd yet by Flame.
For these he bids the Heroes prove their Art
Whose dext'rous Skill directs the flying Dart.
Here too great Merion hopes the noble Prize;

Verse 1053. Nor here disdain'd the King of Men to rise.] There is an admirable Conduct in this Passage; Agamemnon never contended for any of the former Prizes, tho' of much greater Value; so that he is a Candidate for this, only to honour Patroclus and Achilles. The decency which the Poet uses both in the choice of the Game, in which Agamemnon is about to contend, and the giving him the Prize without a Contest, is very remarkable: The Game was a warlike Exercise, fit for the General of an Army; the giving him the Prize without a Contest is a Decency judiciously observed, because no one ought to be suppos'd to excel the General in any military Art: Agamemnon does Justice to his own Character, for whereas he had been represented by Achilles in the opening of the Poem as a covetous Person, he now puts in for the Prize that is of the least Value, and generously gives even that to Talthybius. Eustathius.

As to this last Particular, of Agamemnon's presenting the Charger to Talthybius, I can't but be of a different Opinion. It had been an Affront to Achilles not to have accepted of his Present on this Occasion, and I believe the Words of Homer,

Ταλθυβιω κηρυκι διδου περικαλλες αεθλον,

mean no more, than that he put it into the Hands of this Herald to carry it to his Ships; Talthybius being by his Office an Attendant upon Agamemnon.

Nor here disdain'd the King of Men to rise.

With Joy Pelides saw the Honour paid,
Rose to the Monarch and respectful said.
Thee first in Virtue, as in Pow'r supreme,
O King of Nations! all thy Greeks proclaim;
In ev'ry martial Game thy Worth attest,
And know thee both their Greatest, and their Best.
Take then the Prize, but let brave Merion bear
This beamy Jav'lin in thy Brother's War.

110

Pleas'd from the Hero's Lips his Praise to hear,
The King to Merion gives the brazen Spear:
But, set apart for sacred Use, commands
The glitt'ring Charger to Talthybius' Hands.

139

It will be expected I should here say something tending to a Comparison between the Games of Homer and those of Virgil.


140

If I may own my private Opinion, there is in general more Variety of natural Incidents, and a more lively Picture of natural Passions, in the Games and Persons of Homer. On the other hand, there seems to me more Art, Contrivance, Gradation, and a greater Pomp of Verse in those of Virgil. The Chariot-Race is that which Homer has most labour'd, of which Virgil being sensible, he judiciously avoided the Imitation of what he could not improve, and substituted in its place the Naval-Course, or Ship-Race. It is in this the Roman Poet has employ'd all his Force, as if on set purpose to rival his great Master; but it is extremely observable how constantly he keeps Homer in his Eye, and is afraid to depart from his very Track, even when he had vary'd the Subject itself. Accordingly the Accidents of the Naval-Course have a strange Resemblance with those of Homer's Chariot-Race. He could not forbear at the very Beginning to draw a part of that Description into a Simile. Do not we see he has Homer's Chariots in his Head, by these Lines

Non tam præcipites bijugo certamine campum
Corripuere, ruuntque effusi carcere currus.
Nec sic immissis aurigæ undantia lora
Concussere jugis, pronique in verbera pendent.
Æn. v. V. 144.

What is the Encounter of Cloanthus and Gyas in the Strait between the Rocks, but the same with that of Menelaus and Antilochus in the hollow Way? Had the Galley of Sergestus been broken, if the Chariot of Eumelus had not been demolish'd? Or Mnestheus been cast from the Helm, had not the other been thrown from his Seat? Does not Mnestheus exhort his Rowers in the very Words Antilochus had us'd to his Horses?

Non jamprima peto Mnestheus, neque vincere certo
Quamquam O! sed superent quibus hoc Neptune dedisti;
Extremos pudeat rediisse! hoc vincite, cives,
Etprohibete nefas ------

141

Εμβητον. και σφωι τιταινετον οττι ταχιστα.
Η τοι μεν κεινοισιν εριζεμεν ουτι κελευω
Τυδειδεω ιπποισι δαιφρονος, οισιν Αθηνη
Νυν ωρεξε ταχος ------
Ιππους δ' Ατρειδαο κιχανετε, μηδε λιπησθον,
Καρπαλιμως, μη σφωιν ελεγκειην καταχευη
Αιοη θηλυς εουσα ------

Upon the whole, the Description of the Sea-Race I think has the more Poetry and Majesty, that of the Chariots more Nature, and lively Incidents. There is nothing in Virgil so picturesque, so animated, or which so much marks the Characters, as the Episodes of Antilochus and Menelaus, Ajax and Idomeneus, with that beautiful Interposition of old Nestor, (so naturally introduc'd into an Affair where one so little expects him.) On the other side, in Virgil the Description itself is much nobler; it has something more ostentatiously grand, and seems a Spectacle more worthy the Presence of Princes and great Persons.

In three other Games we find the Roman Poet contending openly with the Grecian. That of the Cæstus is in great part a verbal Translation: But it must be own'd in favour of Virgil, that he has vary'd from Homer in the Event of the Combate with admirable Judgment and with an Improvement of the Moral. Epæus and Dares are describ'd by both Poets as vain Boasters; but Virgil with more poetical Justice punishes Dares for his Arrogance, whereas the Presumption and Pride of Epæus is rewarded by Homer.

On the contrary, in the Foot-Race, I am of opinion that Homer has shewn more Judgment and Morality than Virgil. Nisus in the latter is unjust to his Adversary in favour of his Friend Euryalus; so that Euryalus wins the Race by palpable Fraud, and yet the Poet gives him the first Prize; whereas Homer makes Ulysses victorious, purely thro' the Mischance of Ajax, and his own Piety in invoking Minerva.

The shooting is also a direct Copy, but with the Addition of two Circumstances which make a beautiful Gradation. In Homer the first Archer cuts the String that held the Bird, and the other shoots him as he is mounting. In Virgil the


142

first only hits the Mast which the Bird was fix'd upon, the second cuts the String, the third shoots him, and the fourth to vaunt the Strength of his Arm directs his Arrow up to Heaven, where it kindles into a Flame, and makes a Prodigy. This last is certainly superior to Homer in what they call the Wonderful: but what is the Intent or Effect of this Prodigy, or whether a Reader is not at least as much surprized at it, as at the most unreasonable Parts in Homer, I leave to those Criticks who are more inclin'd to find Faults than I am: Nor shall I observe upon the many literal Imitations in the Roman Poet, to object against which were to derogate from the Merit of those fine Passages, which Virgil was so very sensible of, that he was resolv'd to take them, at any rate, to himself.

There remain in Homer three Games untouch'd by Virgil; the Wrestling, the single Combate, and the Discus. In Virgil there is only the Lusus Trojæ added, which is purely his own, and must be confest to be inimitable: I don't know whether I may be allow'd to say, it is worth all those three of Homer?

I could not forgive my self if I omitted to mention in this place the Funeral Games in the sixth Thebaïd of Statius; it is by much the most beautiful Book of that Poem. It's very remarkable, that he has follow'd Homer thro' the whole Course of his Games: There is the Chariot-Race, the Foot-Race, the Discus, the Cæstus, the Wrestling, the single Combate (which is put off in the same manner as in Homer) and the Shooting; which last ends (as in Virgil) with a Prodigy: Yet in the particular Descriptions of each of these Games this Poet has not borrow'd from either of his Predecessors, and his Poem is so much the worse for it.


143

THE TWENTY-FOURTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.


144

The ARGUMENT.

The Redemption of the Body of Hector.

The Gods deliberate about the Redemption of Hector. Jupiter sends Thetis to Achilles to dispose him for the restoring it, and Iris to Priam, to encourge him to go in Person, and treat for it. The old King, notwithstanding the Remonstrances of his Queen, makes ready for the Journey, to which he is encourag'd by an Omen from Jupiter. He sets forth in his Chariot, with a Waggon loaded with Presents under the Charge of Idæus the Herald. Mercury descends in the Shape of a young Man, and conducts him to the Pavilion of Achilles. Their Conversation on the way. Priam finds Achilles at his Table, casts himself at his Feet, and begs for the Body of his Son; Achilles, mov'd with Compassion, grants his Request, detains him one Night in his Tent, and the next Morning sends him home with the Body: The Trojans run out to meet him. The Lamentations of Andromache, Hecuba, and Helen, with the Solemnities of the Funeral.

The Time of twelve Days is employ'd in this Book, while the Body of Hector lies in the Tent of Achilles. And as many more are spent in the Truce allow'd for his Interment. The Scene is partly in Achilles's Camp, and partly in Troy.


145

Now from the finish'd Games the Grecian Band
Sought their black Ships, and clear'd the crowded Strand;
All stretch'd at ease the genial Banquet share,
And pleasing Slumbers quiet all their Care.
Not so Achilles: He, to Grief resign'd,
His Friend's dear Image present to his Mind,
Takes his sad Couch, more unobserv'd to weep,
Nor tastes the Gifts of all-composing Sleep.
Restless he roll'd around his weary Bed,
And all his Soul on his Patroclus fed:
The Form so pleasing, and the Heart so kind,
That youthful Vigour, and that manly Mind,

146

What Toils they shar'd, what martial Works they wrought,

Verse 14. What Seas they measur'd, &c.] There is something very noble in these Sentiments of Achilles: He does not recollect any soft Moments, any Tendernesses that had pass'd between him and Patroclus, but he revolves the many Difficulties, the Toils by Land, and the Dangers by Sea, in which they had been Companions: Thus the Poet on all Occasions admirably sustains the Character of Achilles; when he play'd upon the Harp in the ninth Book, he sung the Atchievements of Kings; and in this place there is an air of Greatness in his very Sorrows: Achilles is as much a Hero when he weeps, as when he fights.

This Passage in Homer has not escap'd the Censure of Plato, who thought it a Diminution to his Character to be thus transported with Grief; but the Objection will vanish if we remember that all the Passions of Achilles are in the extreme; his Nature is violent, and it would have been an Outrage to his general Character to have represented him as mourning moderately for his Friend. Plato spoke more like a Philosopher than a Critick when he blamed the Behaviour of Achilles as unmanly: These Tears would have ill-become Plato, but they are graceful in Achilles.

Besides there is something very instructive in this whole Representation, it shews us the Power of a sincere Friendship, and softens and recommends the Character of Achilles; the Violence he us'd towards his Enemy is alleviated by the Sincerity he expresses towards his Friend; he is a terrible Enemy, but an amiable Friend.

What Seas they measur'd, and what Fields they fought;

All past before him in Remembrance dear,
Thought follows Thought, and Tear succeeds to Tear.
And now supine, now prone, the Hero lay,
Now shifts his Side, impatient for the Day:
Then starting up, disconsolate he goes
Wide on the lonely Beach to vent his Woes.
There as the solitary Mourner raves,
The ruddy Morning rises o'er the Waves;
Soon as it rose, his furious Steeds he join'd;
The Chariot flies, and Hector trails behind.
And thrice Patroclus! round thy Monument
Was Hector dragg'd, then hurry'd to the Tent.
There Sleep at last o'ercomes the Hero's Eyes;
While foul in Dust th'unhonour'd Carcase lies,
But not deserted by the pitying Skies.

Verse 30. For Phœbus watch'd it, &c.] Eustathius says, that by this Shield of Apollo are meant the Clouds that are drawn up by the Beams of the Sun, which cooling and qualifying the Sultriness of the Air, preserved the Body from Decay: But perhaps the Poet had something farther in his Eye when he introduc'd Apollo upon this Occasion: Apollo is a Physician and the God of Medicaments; if therefore Achilles used any Arts to preserve Hector from Decay that he might be able the longer to insult his Remains, Apollo may properly be said to protect it with his Ægis.

For Phœbus watch'd it with superior Care,

Preserv'd from gaping Wounds, and tainting Air;
And ignominious as it swept the Field,
Spread o'er the sacred Corse his golden Shield.

147

All Heav'n was mov'd, and Hermes will'd to go
By Stealth to snatch him from th'insulting Foe:

Verse 36. But Neptune this, and Pallas this denies.] It is with excellent Art that the Poet carries on this part of his Poem, he shews that he could have contriv'd another way to recover the Body of Hector, but as a God is never to be introduc'd but when human Means fail, he rejects the Interposition of Mercury, makes use of ordinary Methods, and Priam redeems his Son: This gives an Air of Probability to the Relation, at the same time that it advances the Glory of Achilles; for the greatest of his Enemies labours to purchase his Favour, the Gods hold a Consultation, and a King becomes his Suppliant. Eustathius.

Those seven Lines, from Κλεψαι δ' ωτρυνεσκον to Μαχλοσυνην αλεγεινην, have been thought spurious by some of the Ancients: They judg'd it an Indecency that the Goddess of Wisdom and Achilles should be equally inexorable; and thought it was below the Majesty of the Gods to be said at all to steal. Besides, say they, had Homer been acquainted with the Judgment of Paris, he would undoubtedly have mention'd it before this time in his Poem, and consequently that Story was of a later Invention: And Aristarchus affirms that Μαχλοσυνη is a more modern Word, and never known before the Time of Hesiod, who uses it when he speaks of the Daughters of Prætus; and adds, that it is appropriated to signify the Incontinence of Women, and cannot be at all apply'd to Men: Therefore others read the last Verse,

Η οι κεχαρισμενα δωρ ονομηνε.

These Objections are entirely gather'd from Eustathius; to which we may add, that Macrobius seems to have been one of those who rejected these Verses, since he affirms that our Author never mentions the Judgment of Paris. It may be answer'd, that the Silence of Homer in the foregoing part of the Poem, as to the Judgment of Paris, is no Argument that he was ignorant of that Story: Perhaps he might think it most proper to unfold the Cause of the Destruction of Troy in the Conclusion of the Ilias; that the Reader seeing the Wrong done, and the Punishment of that Wrong immediately following, might acknowledge the Justice of it.

The same Reason will be an answer to the Objection relating to the Anger of Pallas: Wisdom cannot be satisfy'd without Justice, and consequently Pallas ought not to cease from Resentment, till Troy has suffer'd the Deserts of her Crimes.

I cannot think that the Objection about the Word Μαχλοσυνη is of any Weight; the Date of Words is utterly uncertain, and as no one has been able to determine the Ages of Homer, and Hesiod, so neither can any Person be assured that such Words were not in use in Homer's Days.

But Neptune this, and Pallas this denies,

And th'unrelenting Empress of the Skies:
E'er since that Day implacable to Troy,
What time young Paris, simple Shepherd Boy,
Won by destructive Lust (Reward obscene)
Their Charms rejected for the Cyprian Queen.
But when the tenth cœlestial Morning broke;
To Heav'n assembled, thus Apollo spoke.
Unpitying Pow'rs! how oft each holy Fane
Has Hector ting'd with Blood of Victims slain?
And can ye still his cold Remains pursue?
Still grudge his Body to the Trojans View?
Deny to Consort, Mother, Son, and Sire,
The last sad Honours of the fun'ral Fire?
Is then the dire Achilles all your Care?
That Iron Heart, inflexibly severe;

Verse 52. A Lion, not a Man, &c.] This is a very formal Condemnation of the Morals of Achilles, which Homer puts into the Mouth of a God. One may see from this alone that he was far from designing his Hero a virtuous Character, yet the Poet artfully introduces Apollo in the midst of his Reproaches, intermingling the Hero's Praises with his Blemishes: Brave tho' he be, &c. Thus what is the real Merit of Achilles is distinguish'd from what is blameable in his Character, and we see Apollo, or the God of Wisdom, is no less impartial than just in his Representation of Achilles.

A Lion, not a Man, who slaughters wide

In Strength of Rage and Impotence of Pride,
Who hastes to murder with a savage Joy,
Invades around, and breathes but to destroy.

148

Shame is not of his Soul; nor understood,
The greatest Evil and the greatest Good
Still for one Loss he rages unresign'd,
Repugnant to the Lot of all Mankind;
To lose a Friend, a Brother, or a Son,
Heav'n dooms each Mortal, and its Will is done:
A while they sorrow, then dismiss their Care;
Fate gives the Wound, and Man is born to bear.
But this Insatiate the Commission giv'n
By Fate, exceeds; and tempts the Wrath of Heav'n:
Lo how his Rage dishonest drags along
Hector's dead Earth insensible of Wrong!
Brave tho' he be, yet by no Reason aw'd,
He violates the Laws of Man and God.
If equal Honours by the partial Skies
Are doom'd both Heroes, (Juno thus replies)
If Thetis' Son must no Distinction know,
Then hear, ye Gods! the Patron of the Bow.
But Hector only boasts a mortal Claim,
His Birth deriving from a mortal Dame:
Achilles of your own Ætherial Race
Springs from a Goddess, by a Man's Embrace;

149

(A Goddess by our self to Peleus giv'n,
A Man divine, and chosen Friend of Heav'n.)
To grace those Nuptials, from the bright Abode
Your selves were present; where this Minstrel-God
(Well-pleas'd to share the Feast,) amid the Quire
Stood proud to Hymn, and tune his youthful Lyre.
Then thus the Thund'rer checks th'imperial Dame:
Let not thy Wrath the Court of Heav'n inflame;
Their Merits, nor their Honours, are the same.
But mine, and ev'ry God's peculiar Grace
Hector deserves, of all the Trojan Race:
Still on our Shrines his grateful Off'rings lay,
(The only Honours Men to Gods can pay)
Nor ever from our smoking Altar ceast
The pure Libation, and the holy Feast.
Howe'er by Stealth to snatch the Corse away,
We will not: Thetis guards it Night and Day.
But haste, and summon to our Courts above
The Azure Queen; let her Persuasion move
Her furious Son from Priam to receive
The proffer'd Ransom, and the Corps to leave.

150

He added not: And Iris from the Skies
Swift as a Whirlwind, on the Message flies,
Meteorous the Face of Ocean sweeps,
Refulgent gliding o'er the sable Deeps.
Between where Samos wide his Forests spreads,
And rocky Imbrus lifts its pointed Heads,
Down plung'd the Maid; (the parted Waves resound)
She plung'd, and instant shot the dark Profound.
As bearing Death in the fallacious Bait
From the bent Angle sinks the loaden Weight;
So past the Goddess thro' the closing Wave,
Where Thetis sorrow'd in her secret Cave:
There plac'd amidst her melancholy Train
(The blue-hair'd Sisters of the sacred Main)
Pensive she sate, revolving Fates to come,

Verse 114. And wept her god-like Son's approaching Doom.] These words are very artfully inserted by the Poet. The Poem could not proceed to the Death of Achilles without breaking the Action; and therefore to satisfy the Curiosity of the Reader concerning the Fate of this great Man, he takes care to inform us that his Life draws to a Period, and as it were celebrates his Funeral before his Death.

Such Circumstances as these greatly raise the Character of Achilles; he is so truly valiant, that tho' he knows he must fall before Troy, yet he does not abstain from the War, but couragiously meets his Death: And here I think it proper to insert an Observation that ought to have been made before, which is, that Achilles did not know that Hector was to fall by his Hand; if he had known it, where would have been the mighty Courage in engaging him in a single Combat, in which he was sure to conquer? The contrary of this is evident from the Words of Achilles to Hector just before the Combat,

------ Πριν γ' η ετερον γε τεσοντα
Αιματος ασαι αρηα, &c. ------

I will make no Compacts with thee, says Achilles, but one of us shall fall.

And wept her god-like Son's approaching Doom:

Then thus the Goddess of the painted Bow.
Arise! O Thetis, from thy Seats below.
'Tis Jove that calls. And why (the Dame replies)
Calls Jove his Thetis to the hated Skies?
Sad Object as I am for heav'nly Sight!
Ah! may my Sorrows ever shun the Light!

151

Howe'er be Heav'ns almighty Sire obey'd—
She spake, and veil'd her Head in sable Shade,
Which, flowing long, her graceful Person clad;
And forth she pac'd, majestically sad.
Then thro' the World of Waters, they repair
(The Way fair Iris led) to upper Air.
The Deeps dividing, o'er the Coast they rise,
And touch with momentary Flight the Skies.
There in the Light'nings Blaze the Sire they found,
And all the Gods in shining Synod round.
Thetis approach'd with Anguish in her Face,
(Minerva rising, gave the Mourner place)
Ev'n Juno sought her Sorrows to console,
And offer'd from her Hand the Nectar Bowl:
She tasted, and resign'd it: Then began
The sacred Sire of Gods and mortal Man:
Thou com'st fair Thetis, but with Grief o'ercast,
Maternal Sorrows, long, ah long to last!
Suffice, we know and we partake thy Cares:
But yield to Fate, and hear what Jove declares.

Verse 141. Nine Days are past since all the Court above, &c.] It may be thought that so many Interpositions of the Gods, such Messages from Heaven to Earth, and down to the Seas, are needless Machines; and it may be imagin'd that it is an Offence against Probability that so many Deities should be employ'd to pacify Achilles: But I am of Opinion that the Poet conducts this whole Affair with admirable Judgment. The Poem is now almost at the Conclusion, and Achilles is to pass from a State of an almost inexorable Resentment to a State of perfect Tranquillity; such a Change could not be brought about by human Means; Achilles is too stubborn to obey any thing less than a God: This is evident from his rejecting the Persuasion of the whole Grecian Army to return to the Battle: So that it appears that this Machinery was necessary, and consequently a Beauty to the Poem.

It may be farther added, that these several Incidents proceed from Jupiter: It is by his Appointment that so many Gods are employ'd to attend Achilles. By these means Jupiter fulfills the Promise mention'd in the first Book, of honouring the Son of Thetis, and the Poet excellently sustains his Character by representing the inexorable Achilles as not parting with the Body of his mortal Enemy, but by the immediate Command of Jupiter.

If the Poet had conducted these Incidents merely by human Means, or suppos'd Achilles to restore the Body of Hector entirely out of Compassion, the Draught had been unnatural, because unlike Achilles: Such a Violence of Temper was not to be pacify'd by ordinary Methods. Besides, the Poet has made use of the properest Personages to carry on the Affair; for who could be suppos'd to have so great an Influence upon Achilles as his own Mother, who is a Goddess?

Nine Days are past, since all the Court above

In Hector's Cause have mov'd the Ear of Jove;

152

'Twas voted, Hermes from his god-like Foe
By Stealth should bear him, but we will'd not so:
We will, thy Son himself the Corse restore,
And to his Conquest add this Glory more.
Then hye thee to him, and our Mandate bear;
Tell him he tempts the Wrath of Heav'n too far:
Nor let him more (our Anger if he dread)
Vent his mad Vengeance on the sacred Dead:
But yield to Ransom and the Father's Pray'r.
The mournful Father Iris shall prepare,
With Gifts to sue; and offer to his Hands
Whate'er his Honour asks, or Heart demands.
His Word the silver-footed Queen attends,
And from Olympus' snowy Tops descends.
Arriv'd, she heard the Voice of loud Lament,
And echoing Groans that shook the lofty Tent.
His Friends prepare the Victim, and dispose
Repast unheeded, while he vents his Woes.
The Goddess seats her by her pensive Son,
She prest his Hand, and tender thus begun.
How long, unhappy! shall thy Sorrows flow,

Verse 164. And thy Heart waste with life-consuming Woe.] This Expression in the Original is very particular. Were it to be translated literally it must be render'd, how long wilt thou eat, or prey upon thy own Heart by these Sorrows? And it seems that it was a common way of expressing a deep Sorrow; and Pythagoras uses it in this Sense, μη εσθιειν καρδιαν, that is, grieve not excessively, let not sorrow make too great an Impression upon thy Heart. Eustathius.

And thy Heart waste with life-consuming Woe?


153

Mindless of Food, or Love whose pleasing Reign
Sooths weary Life, and softens human Pain.
O snatch the Moments yet within thy Pow'r,

Verse 168.

------Indulge the am'rous Hour!

]

The Ancients (says Eustathius) rejected these Verses because of the indecent Idea they convey: The Goddess in plain Terms advises Achilles to go to Bed to his Mistress, and tells him a Woman will be a Comfort. The good Bishop is of Opinion, that they ought to be rejected, but the Reason he gives is as extraordinary as that of Thetis: Soldiers, says he, have more occasion for something to strengthen themselves with, than for Women: And this is the Reason, continues he, why Wrestlers are forbid all Commerce with that Sex during the whole Time of their Exercise.

Dionysius of Halicarnassus endeavours to justify Homer by observing, that this Advice of Thetis was not given him to induce him to any Wantonness, but was intended to indulge a nobler Passion, his Desire of Glory: She advises him to go to that Captive who was restor'd to him in a publick manner, to satisfy his Honour: To that Captive, the Detention of whom had been so great a Punishment to the whole Grecian Army: And therefore Thetis uses a very proper Motive to comfort her Son, by advising him to gratify at once both his Love and his Glory.

Plutarch has likewise labour'd in Homer's Justification; he observes that the Poet has set the Picture of Achilles in this place in a very fair and strong point of Light: Tho' Achilles had so lately receiv'd his belov'd Briseïs from the Hands of Agamemnon; tho' he knew that his own Life drew to a sudden Period, yet the Hero prevails over the Lover, and he does not haste to indulge his Love: He does not lament Patroclus like a common Man by neglecting the Duties of Life, but he abstains from all Pleasures by an Excess of Sorrow, and the Love of his Mistress is lost in that of his Friend.

This Observation excellently justifies Achilles, in not indulging himself with the Company of his Mistress: The Hero prevails so much over the Lover, that Thetis thinks her self oblig'd to recall Briseïs to his Memory. Yet still the Indecency remains. All that can be said in favour of Thetis is, that she was Mother to Achilles, and consequently might take the greater Freedom with her Son.

Madam Dacier disapproves of both the former Observations: She has recourse to the Lawfulness of such a Practice between Achilles and Briseïs; and because such Commerces in those times were reputed honest, therefore she thinks the Advice was decent: The married Ladies are oblig'd to her for this Observation, and I hope all tender Mothers, when their Sons are afflicted, will advise them to comfort themselves in this manner.

In short, I am of Opinion that this Passage outrages Decency; and 'tis a sign of some Weakness to have so much occasion of Justification. Indeed the whole Passage is capable of a serious Construction, and of such a Sense as a Mother might express to a Son with Decency: And then it will run thus; “Why art thou, my Son, thus afflicted? Why thus resign'd to Sorrow? Can neither Sleep nor Love divert you? Short is thy Date of Life, spend it not all in weeping, but allow some part of it to Love and Pleasure!” But still the Indecency lies in the manner of the Expression, which must be allow'd to be almost obscene, (for such is the Word μισγεσθ' misceri) all that can be said in Defence of it is, that as we are not competent Judges of what Ideas Words might carry in Homer's Time, so we ought not entirely to condemn him, because it is possible the Expression might not sound so indecently in ancient as in modern Ears.

Nor long to live, indulge the am'rous Hour!

Lo! Jove himself (for Jove's Command I bear)
Forbids to tempt the Wrath of Heav'n too far,
No longer then (his Fury if thou dread)
Detain the Relicks of great Hector dead;
Nor vent on senseless Earth thy Vengeance vain,
But yield to Ransom, and restore the Slain.
To whom Achilles: Be the Ransom giv'n,
And we submit, since such the Will of Heav'n.
While thus they commun'd, from th'Olympian Bow'rs
Jove orders Iris to the Trojan Tow'rs.
Haste, winged Goddess! to the sacred Town,
And urge her Monarch to redeem his Son;
Alone, the Ilian Ramparts let him leave,
And bear what stern Achilles may receive:
Alone, for so we will: No Trojan near;
Except, to place the Dead with decent Care,
Some aged Herald, who with gentle Hand,
May the slow Mules and fun'ral Car command.

154

Nor let him Death, nor let him Danger dread,
Safe thro' the Foe by our Protection led:

Verse 189. Him Hermes to Achilles shall convey.] The Intervention of Mercury was very necessary at this Time, and by it the Poet not only gives an Air of Probability to the Relation, but also pays a Complement to his Countreymen the Grecians: They kept so strict a Guard that nothing but a God could pass unobserv'd, and this highly recommends their military Discipline; and Priam not being able to carry the Ransom without a Chariot, it would have been an Offence against Probability, to have suppos'd him able to have pass'd all the Guards of the Army in his Chariot, without the Assistance of some Deity: Horace had this Passage in his view,

Iniqua Trojæ castra fefellit.
Him Hermes to Achilles shall convey,

Guard of his Life, and Partner of his Way.

Verse 191.

------ Achilles self shall spare
His Age, nor touch one venerable Hair,

&c.] It is observable that every Word here is a Negative, αφρων, ασκοπος, αλιτημων; Achilles is still so angry that Jupiter cannot say he is wise, judicious, and merciful; he only commends him negatively, and barely says he is not a Madman, nor perversely wicked.

It is the Observation of the Ancients, says Eustathius, that all the Causes of the Sins of Man are included in those three Words: Man offends either out of Ignorance, and then he is αφρων, or thro' Inadvertency, then he is ασκοπος, or wilfully and maliciously, and then he is αλιτημων. So that this Description agrees very well with the present Disposition of Achilles; he is not αφρων, because his Resentment begins to abate; he is not ασκοπος, because his Mother has given him Instructions, nor αλιτημων, because he will not offend against the Injunctions of Jupiter.

Fierce as he is, Achilles self shall spare

His Age, nor touch one venerable Hair,
Some Thought there must be, in a Soul so brave,
Some Sense of Duty, some Desire to save.

Verse 195. The winged Iris flies, &c.] Mons. Rapin has been very free upon this Passage, where so many Machines are made use of to cause Priam to obtain the Body of Hector from Achilles. “This Father (says he) who has so much Tenderness for his Son, who is so superstitious in observing the funeral Ceremonies, and saving those precious Remains from the Dogs and Vultures; ought not he to have thought of doing this himself, without being thus expressly commanded by the Gods? Was there need of a Machine to make him remember that he was a Father?” But this Critick entirely forgets what render'd such a Conduct of absolute Necessity; namely, the extreme Danger and (in all Probability) imminent Ruin both of the King and State, upon Priam's putting himself into the Power of his most inveterate Enemy. There was no other Method of recovering Hector, and of discharging his funeral Rites (which were look'd upon by the Ancients of so high Importance) and therefore the Message from Jupiter to encourage Priam, with the Assistance of Mercury to conduct him, and to prepare Achilles to receive him with Favour, was far from impertinent: It was Dignus vindice nodus, as Horace expresses it.

Then down her Bow the winged Iris drives,

And swift at Priam's mournful Court arrives;
Where the sad Sons beside their Father's Throne
Sate bath'd in Tears, and answer'd Groan with Groan.
And all amidst them lay the hoary Sire,

Verse 200. His Face his wrapt Attire conceal'd from Sight.] The Poet has observ'd a great Decency in this place, he was not able to express the Grief of this royal Mourner, and so covers what he could not represent. From this Passage Semanthes the Sicyonian Painter borrow'd his Design in the Sacrifice of Iphigenia, and represents his Agamemnon, as Homer does his Priam: Æschylus has likewise imitated this Place, and draws his Niobe exactly after the manner of Homer. Eustathius.

(Sad Scene of Woe!) His Face his wrapt Attire

Conceal'd from Sight; With frantick Hands he spread
A Show'r of Ashes o'er his Neck and Head.
From Room to Room his pensive Daughters roam;
Whose Shrieks and Clamours fill the vaulted Dome;
Mindful of those, who, late their Pride and Joy,
Lye pale and breathless round the Fields of Troy!
Before the King Jove's Messenger appears,
And thus in Whispers greets his trembling Ears.

155

Fear not, oh Father! no ill News I bear;
From Jove I come, Jove makes thee still his Care:
For Hector's sake these Walls he bids thee leave,
And bear what stern Achilles may receive:
Alone, for so he wills: No Trojan near,
Except to place the Dead with decent Care,
Some aged Herald, who with gentle Hand
May the slow Mules and fun'ral Car command.
Nor shalt thou Death, nor shalt thou Danger dread;
Safe thro' the Foe by his Protection led:
Thee Hermes to Pelides shall convey,
Guard of thy Life, and Partner of thy Way.
Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare
Thy Age, nor touch one venerable Hair,
Some Thought there must be, in a Soul so brave,
Some Sense of Duty, some Desire to save.
She spoke, and vanish'd. Priam bids prepare
His gentle Mules, and harness to the Car,
There, for the Gifts, a polish'd Casket lay:
His pious Sons the King's Command obey.
Then past the Monarch to his Bridal-Room,
Where Cedar-Beams the lofty Roofs perfume,

156

And where the Treasures of his Empire lay;
Then call'd his Queen, and thus began to say.
Unhappy Consort of a King distrest!
Partake the Troubles of thy Husband's Breast:
I saw descend the Messenger of Jove,
Who bids me try Achilles' Mind to move,
Forsake these Ramparts, and with Gifts obtain
The Corps of Hector, at yon' Navy slain.
Tell me thy Thought: My Heart impells to go
Thro' hostile Camps, and bears me to the Foe.
The hoary Monarch thus. Her piercing Cries
Sad Hecuba renews, and then replies.
Ah! whither wanders thy distemper'd Mind,
And where the Prudence now that aw'd Mankind,
Thro' Phrygia once, and foreign Regions known,
Now all confus'd, distracted, overthrown!
Singly to pass thro' Hosts of Foes! to face
(Oh Heart of Steel!) the Murd'rer of thy Race!
To view that deathful Eye, and wander o'er
Those Hands, yet red with Hector's noble Gore!
Alas! my Lord! he knows not how to spare,
And what his Mercy, thy slain Sons declare;

157

So brave! so many fall'n! To calm his Rage
Vain were thy Dignity, and vain thy Age.
No—pent in this sad Palace let us give
To Grief the wretched Days we have to live.
Still, still for Hector let our Sorrows flow,
Born to his own, and to his Parents Woe!
Doom'd from the Hour his luckless Life begun,
To Dogs, to Vultures, and to Peleus' Son!
Oh! in his dearest Blood might I allay
My Rage, and these Barbarities repay!
For ah! could Hector merit thus? whose Breath
Expir'd not meanly, in unactive Death:

Verse 265.

He pour'd his latest Blood in manly Fight,
And fell a Hero------

] This whole Discourse of Hecuba is exceedingly natural, she aggravates the Features of Achilles, and softens those of Hector: Her Anger blinds her so much that she can see nothing great in Achilles, and her Fondness so much, that she can discern no Defects in Hector: Thus she draws Achilles in the fiercest Colours, like a Barbarian, and calls him ωμηστης: But at the same time forgets that Hector ever fled from Achilles, and in the Original directly tells us that he knew not how to fear, or how to fly. Eustathius.

He pour'd his latest Blood in manly Fight,

And fell a Hero in his Country's Right
Seek not to stay me, nor my Soul affright
With Words of Omen like a Bird of Night.
(Reply'd unmov'd the venerable Man)
'Tis Heav'n commands me, and you urge in vain.
Had any mortal Voice th'Injunction laid,
Nor Augur, Priest, or Seer had been obey'd.
A present Goddess brought the high Command,
I saw, I heard her, and the Word shall stand.

158

I go, ye Gods! obedient to your Call:
If in yon' Camp your Pow'rs have doom'd my Fall,
Content—By the same Hand let me expire!
Add to the slaughter'd Son the wretched Sire!
One cold Embrace at least may be allow'd,
And my last Tears flow mingled with his Blood!
From forth his open'd Stores, this said, he drew
Twelve costly Carpets of refulgent Hue,
As many Vests, as many Mantles told,
And twelve fair Veils, and Garments stiff with Gold.
Two Tripods next and twice two Chargers shine,
With ten pure Talents from the richest Mine;
And last a large well-labour'd Bowl had place,
(The Pledge of Treaties once with friendly Thrace)
Seem'd all too mean the Stores he could employ,
For one last Look to buy him back to Troy!

Verse 291. Lo, the sad Father, &c.] This Behaviour of Priam is very natural to a Person in his Circumstances: The Loss of his favourite Son makes so deep an Impression upon his Spirits, that he is incapable of Consolation; he is displeased with every body; he is angry he knows not why; the Disorder and Hurry of his Spirits make him break out into passionate Expressions, and those Expressions are contain'd in short Periods, very natural to Men in Anger, who give not themselves Leisure to express their Sentiments at full length: It is from the same Passion that Priam, in the second Speech, treats all his Sons with the utmost Indignity, calls 'em Gluttons, Dancers, and Flatterers. Eustathius very justly remarks, that he had Paris particularly in his Eye; but his Anger makes him transfer that Character to the rest of his Children, not being calm enough to make a Distinction between the Innocent and Guilty.

That Passage where he runs out into the Praises of Hector, is particularly natural: His Concern and Fondness makes him as extravagant in the Commendation of him, as in the Disparagement of his other Sons: They are less than Mortals, he more than Man. Rapin has censur'd this Anger of Priam as a Breach of the Manners, and says he might have shewn himself a Father, otherwise than by this Usage of his Children. But whoever considers his Circumstances will judge after another manner. Priam, after having been the most wealthy, most powerful and formidable Monarch of Asia, becomes all at once the most miserable of Men; He loses in less than eight Days the best of his Army, and a great Number of virtuous Sons; he loses the bravest of 'em all, his Glory and his Defence, the gallant Hector. This last Blow sinks him quite, and changes him so much, that he is no longer the same: He becomes impatient, frantick, unreasonable! The terrible Effect of ill Fortune! Whoever has the least Insight into Nature, must admire so fine a Picture of the Force of Adversity on an unhappy old Man.

Lo! the sad Father, frantick with his Pain,

Around him furious drives his menial Train:
In vain each Slave with duteous Care attends,
Each Office hurts him, and each Face offends.
What make ye here? Officious Crowds? (he cries)
Hence! Nor obtrude your Anguish on my Eyes.

159

Have ye no Griefs at Home, to fix ye there?
Am I the only Object of Despair?
Am I become my People's common Show,
Set up by Jove your Spectacle of Woe?
No, you must feel him too; your selves must fall;
The same stern God to Ruin gives you all.
Nor is great Hector lost by me alone;
Your sole Defence, your guardian Pow'r is gone!
I see your Blood the Fields of Phrygia drown,
I see the Ruins of your smoking Town!
Oh send me, Gods! e'er that sad Day shall come,
A willing Ghost to Pluto's dreary Dome!
He said, and feebly drives his Friends away;
The sorrowing Friends his frantick Rage obey.
Next on his Sons his erring Fury falls,
Polites, Paris, Agathon, he calls,

Verse 313. Deiphobus and Dius.] It has been a Dispute whether Διος or Αγαυος, in V. 251. was a proper Name, but Pherecydes (says Eustathius) determines it, and assures us that Dios was a spurious Son of Priam.

His Threats Deïphobus and Dius hear,

Hippothous, Pammon, Helenus the Seer,
And gen'rous Antiphon: For yet these nine
Surviv'd, sad Relicks of his num'rous Line.
Inglorious Sons of an unhappy Sire!
Why did not all in Hector's Cause expire?

160

Wretch that I am! my bravest Offspring slain,
You, the Disgrace of Priam's House, remain!
Mestor the brave, renown'd in Ranks of War,
With Troilus, dreadful on his rushing Car,
And last great Hector, more than Man divine,
For sure he seem'd not of terrestial Line!
All those relentless Mars untimely slew,
And left me these, a soft and servile Crew,
Whose Days the Feast and wanton Dance employ,
Gluttons and Flatt'rers, the Contempt of Troy!
Why teach ye not my rapid Wheels to run,
And speed my Journey to redeem my Son?
The Sons their Father's wretched Age revere,
Forgive his Anger, and produce the Car.
High on the Seat the Cabinet they bind:
The new-made Car with solid Beauty shin'd;
Box was the Yoke, embost with costly Pains,
And hung with Ringlets to receive the Reins;
Nine Cubits long the Traces swept the Ground;
These to the Chariots polish'd Pole they bound,
Then fix'd a Ring the running Reins to guide,
And close beneath the gather'd Ends were ty'd.

161

Next with the Gifts (the Price of Hector slain)

Verse 342. The sad Attendants load the groaning Wain.] It is necessary to observe to the Reader, to avoid Confusion, that two Cars are here prepared; the one drawn by Mules, to carry the Presents, and to bring back the Body of Hector; the other drawn by Horses, in which the Herald and Priam rode. Eustathius.

The sad Attendants load the groaning Wain:

Last to the Yoke the well-match'd Mules they bring,
(The Gift of Mysia to the Trojan King.)
But the fair Horses, long his darling Care,
Himself receiv'd and harness'd to his Car:
Griev'd as he was, he not this Task deny'd;
The hoary Herald help'd him at his Side.
While careful these the gentle Coursers join'd,
Sad Hecuba approach'd with anxious Mind;
A golden Bowl that foam'd with fragrant Wine,
(Libation destin'd to the Pow'r divine)
Held in her right, before the Steeds she stands,
And thus consigns it to the Monarch's Hands.
Take this, and pour to Jove: that safe from Harms,
His Grace restore thee to our Roof, and Arms;
Since Victor of thy Fears, and slighting mine,
Heav'n, or thy Soul, inspire this bold Design:
Pray to that God, who high on Ida's Brow
Surveys thy desolated Realms below,
His winged Messenger to send from high,
And lead thy way with heav'nly Augury:

162

Let the strong Sov'reign of the plumy Race
Tow'r on the right of yon' æthereal Space.
That Sign beheld, and strengthen'd from above,
Boldly pursue the Journey mark'd by Jove;
But if the God his Augury denies,
Suppress thy Impulse, nor reject Advice.
'Tis just (said Priam) to the Sire above
To raise our Hands, for who so good as Jove?
He spoke, and bad th'attendant Handmaid bring
The purest Water of the living Spring;
(Her ready Hands the Ew'er and Bason held)
Then took the golden Cup his Queen had fill'd,
On the mid Pavement pours the rosy Wine,
Uplifts his Eyes, and calls the Pow'r divine.

Verse 377. Oh first, and greatest! &c.] Eustathius observes, that there is not one Instance in the whole Ilias of any Prayer that was justly prefer'd, that fail'd of Success. This Procedure of Homer's is very judicious, and answers exactly to the true end of Poetry, which is to please and instruct. Thus Priam prays that Achilles may cease his Wrath, and compassionate his Miseries; and Jupiter grants his Request: The unfortunate King obtains Compassion, and in his most inveterate Enemy finds a Friend.

Oh First, and Greatest! Heav'ns Imperial Lord!

On lofty Ida's holy Hill ador'd!
To stern Achilles now direct my ways,
And teach him Mercy when a Father prays.
If such thy Will, dispatch from yonder Sky
Thy sacred Bird, cœlestial Augury!
Let the strong Sov'reign of the plumy Race
Tow'r on the right of yon' æthereal Space.

163

So shall thy Suppliant, strengthen'd from above,
Fearless pursue the Journey mark'd by Jove.
Jove heard his Pray'r, and from the Throne on high
Dispatch'd his Bird, cœlestial Augury!
The swift-wing'd Chaser of the feather'd Game,
And known to Gods by Percnos' lofty Name.
Wide as appears some Palace Gate display'd,
So broad, his Pinions stretch their ample Shade,
As stooping dexter with resounding Wings
Th'imperial Bird descends in airy Rings
A Dawn of Joy in ev'ry Face appears;
The mourning Matron dries her tim'rous Tears.
Swift on his Car th'impatient Monarch sprung;
The brazen Portal in his Passage rung.
The Mules preceding draw the loaded Wain,
Charg'd with the Gifts; Idæus holds the Rein,
The King himself his gentle Steeds controuls,
And thro' surrounding Friends the Chariot rolls
On his slow Wheels the following People wait,
Mourn at each Step, and give him up to Fate,
With Hands uplifted, eye him as he past,
And gaze upon him as they gaz'd their last.

164

Now forward fares the Father on his way,
Thro' the lone Fields, and back to Ilion they.
Great Jove beheld him as he crost the Plain,
And felt the Woes of miserable Man.
Then thus to Hermes. Thou whose constant Cares
Still succour Mortals, and attend their Pray'rs;
Behold an Object to thy Charge consign'd,
If ever Pity touch'd thee for Mankind.
Go, guard the Sire; th'observing Foe prevent,

Verse 416. The Description of Mercury .]

A Man must have no Taste for Poetry that does not admire this sublime Description: Virgil has translated it almost verbatim in the 4th Book of the Æneis, V. 240.

------ Ille patris magni parere parabat
Imperio, & primùm pedibus talaria nectit
Aurea, quæ sublimem alis, sive æquora supra,
Sen terram rapido pariter cum slamine portant.
Tum virgam capit, hâc animas ille evocat orco
Pallentes, alias sub tristia tartara mittit;
Dat somnos, adimitque, & lumina morte resignat.

It is hard to determine which is more excellent, the Copy, or the Original: Mercury appears in both Pictures with equal Majesty; and the Roman Dress becomes him, as well as the Grecian. Virgil has added the latter part of the fifth, and the whole sixth Line to Homer, which makes it still more full and majestical.

Give me leave to produce a Passage out of Milton, of near Affinity with the Lines above, which is not inferior to Homer or Virgil: It is the Description of the Descent of an Angel,

------ Down thither, prone in Flight
He speeds, and thro' the vast Æthereal Sky
Sails between Worlds and Worlds; with steady Wing
Now on the polar Winds: Then with quick Force
Winnows the buxom Air ------
Of beaming sunny Rays a golden Tiar
Circled his Head; nor less his Locks behind
Illustrious, on his Shoulders fledg'd with Wings,
Lay waving round. ------&c.
And safe conduct him to Achilles' Tent.

The God obeys, his golden Pinions binds,
And mounts incumbent on the Wings of Winds,
That high thro' Fields of Air his Flight sustain,
O'er the wide Earth, and o'er the boundless Main:
Then grasps the Wand that causes Sleep to fly,
Or in soft Slumbers seals the wakeful Eye;
Thus arm'd, swift Hermes steers his airy way,
And stoops on Hellespont's resounding Sea.
A beauteous Youth, majestick and divine,
He seem'd, fair Offspring of some princely Line!

Verse 427. Now Twilight veil'd the glaring Face of Day.] The Poet by such Intimations as these recalls to our Minds the exact Time which Priam takes up in this Journey to Achilles: He set out in the Evening; and by the time that he reach'd the Tomb of Ilus, it was grown somewhat dark, which shews that this Tomb stood at some distance from the City: Here Mercury meets him, and when it was quite dark, guides him into the Presence of Achilles. By these Methods we may discover how exactly the Poet preserves the Unities of Time and Place, that he allots Space sufficient for the Actions which he describes, and yet does not crowd more Incidents into any Interval of Time than may be executed in as much as he allows: Thus it being improbable that so stubborn a Man as Achilles should relent in a few Moments, the Poet allows a whole Night for this Affair, so that Priam has Leisure enough to go and return, and Time enough remaining to persuade Achilles.

Now Twilight veil'd the glaring Face of Day,

And clad the dusky Fields in sober Gray;

165

What time the Herald and the hoary King
Their Chariots stopping, at the silver Spring
That circling Ilus' ancient Marble flows,
Allow'd their Mules and Steeds a short Repose.
Thro' the dim Shade the Herald first espies
A Man's approach, and thus to Priam cries.
I mark some Foes Advance: O King! beware;
This hard Adventure claims thy utmost Care:
For much I fear, Destruction hovers nigh:
Our State asks Counsel; is it best to fly?
Or, old and helpless, at his Feet to fall,
(Two wretched Suppliants) and for Mercy call?
Th'afflicted Monarch shiver'd with Despair;
Pale grew his Face, and upright stood his Hair;
Sunk was his Heart; his Colour went and came;
A sudden Trembling shook his aged Frame:
When Hermes greeting, touch'd his royal Hand,
And gentle, thus accosts with kind Demand.

Verse 447, &c. The Speech of Mercury to Priam .] I shall not trouble the Reader with the Dreams of Eustathius, who tells us that this Fiction of Mercury is partly true, and partly false: 'Tis true that his Father is old, rich, and has seven Children; for Jupiter is King of the whole Universe, was from Eternity, and created both Men and Gods: In like manner, when Mercury says he is the seventh Child of his Father, Eustathius affirms that he meant that there were six Planets besides Mercury. Sure it requires great Pains and Thought to be so learnedly absurd: The Supposition which he makes afterwards is far more natural; Priam, says he, might by chance meet with one of the Myrmidons, who might conduct him unobserv'd thro' the Camp into the Presence of Achilles, and as the Execution of any wise Design is ascrib'd to Pallas, so may this clandestine Enterprize be said to be manag'd by the Guidance of Mercury.

But perhaps this whole Passage may be better explain'd by having recourse to the Pagan Theology: It was an Opinion that obtain'd in those early Days, that Jupiter frequently sent some friendly Messengers to protect the Innocent, so that Homer might intend to give his Readers a Lecture of Morality, by telling us that this unhappy King was under the Protection of the Gods.

Madam Dacier carries it farther. Homer (says she) instructed by Tradition, knew that God sends his Angels to the Succour of the afflicted. The Scripture is full of Examples of this Truth. The Story of Tobit has a wonderful Relation with this of Homer: Tobit sent his Son to Rages, a City of Media, to receive a considerable Sum; Tobias did not know the Way; he found at his Door a young Man cloath'd with a majestick Glory, which attracted Admiration: It was an Angel under the Form of a Man. This Angel being ask'd who he was, answer'd (as Mercury does here) by a Fiction: He said that he was of the Children of Israel, that his Name was Azarias, and that he was Son of Ananias. This Angel conducted Tobias in Safety; he gave him Instructions; and when he was to receive the Recompence which the Father and Son offer'd him, he declar'd that he was the Angel of the Lord, took his Flight towards Heaven, and disappear'd. Here is a great Conformity in the Ideas and in the Style; and the Example of our Author so long before Tobit, proves, that this Opinion of God's sending his Angels to the Aid of Man was very common, and much spread amongst the Pagans in those former Times. Dacier.

Say whither, Father! when each mortal Sight

Is seal'd in Sleep, thou wander'st thro' the Night?
Why roam thy Mules and Steeds the Plains along,
Thro' Grecian Foes, so num'rous and so strong?

166

What couldst thou hope, should these thy Treasures view,
These, who with endless Hate thy Race pursue?
For what Defence alas! couldst thou provide?
Thy self not young, a weak old Man thy Guide.
Yet suffer not thy Soul to sink with Dread;
From me, no Harm shall touch thy rev'rend Head;
From Greece I'll guard thee too; for in those Lines
The living Image of my Father shines.
Thy Words, that speak Benevolence of Mind
Are true, my Son! (the godlike Sire rejoin'd)
Great are my Hazards; but the Gods survey
My Steps, and send thee, Guardian of my way.
Hail, and be blest! For scarce of mortal Kind
Appears thy Form, thy Feature, and thy Mind.
Nor true are all thy Words, nor erring wide;
(The sacred Messenger of Heav'n reply'd)
But say, convey'st thou thro' the lonely Plains
What yet most precious of thy Store remains,
To lodge in safety with some friendly Hand?
Prepar'd perchance to leave thy native Land.
Or fly'st thou now? What Hopes can Troy retain?
Thy matchless Son, her Guard and Glory, slain!

167

The King, alarm'd. Say what, and whence thou art,
Who search the Sorrows of a Parent's Heart,
And know so well how god-like Hector dy'd?
Thus Priam spoke, and Hermes thus reply'd.
You tempt me, Father, and with Pity touch:
On this sad Subject you enquire too much.
Oft have these Eyes that godlike Hector view'd
In glorious Fight with Grecian Blood embru'd:
I saw him, when like Jove, his Flames he tost
On thousand Ships, and wither'd half an Host:
I saw, but help'd not: Stern Achilles' Ire
Forbad Assistance, and enjoy'd the Fire.
For him I serve, of Myrmidonian Race;
One Ship convey'd us from our native Place;
Polyctor is my Sire, an honour'd Name,
Old like thy self, and not unknown to Fame;
Of sev'n his Sons, by whom the Lot was cast
To serve our Prince, it fell on me, the last.
To watch this Quarter my Adventure falls,
For with the Morn the Greeks attack your Walls;
Sleepless they sit, impatient to engage,
And scarce their Rulers check the martial Rage.

168

If then thou art of stern Pelides' Train,
(The mournful Monarch thus rejoin'd again)
Ah tell me truly, where, oh where are laid
My Son's dear Relicks? what befalls him dead?
Have Dogs dismember'd on the naked Plains,
Or yet unmangled rest his cold Remains?
O favor'd of the Skies! (Thus answer'd then
The Pow'r that mediates between Gods and Men)
Nor Dogs nor Vultures have thy Hector rent,
But whole he lies, neglected in the Tent:
This the twelfth Evening since he rested there,
Untouch'd by Worms, untainted by the Air.
Still as Aurora's ruddy Beam is spread,
Round his Friend's Tomb Achilles drags the Dead;
Yet undisfigur'd, or in Limb, or Face,
All fresh he lies, with ev'ry living Grace,
Majestical in Death! No Stains are found
O'er all the Corse, and clos'd is ev'ry Wound,
(Tho' many a Wound they gave) Some heav'nly Care,
Some Hand divine, preserves him ever fair:
Or all the Host of Heav'n, to whom he led
A Life so grateful, still regard him dead.

169

Thus spoke to Priam the cœlestial Guide,
And joyful thus the royal Sire reply'd.

Verse 519. Blest is the Man, &c.] Homer now begins after a beautiful and long Fable, to give the Moral of it, and display his poetical Justice in Rewards and Punishments: Thus Hector fought in a bad Cause, and therefore suffers in the Defence of it; but because he was a good Man, and obedient to the Gods in other Respects, his very Remains become the Care of Heaven.

I think it necessary to take notice to the Reader, that nothing is more admirable than the Conduct of Homer throughout his whole Poem, in respect to Morality. He justifies the Character of Horace,

------ Quid pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, quid non,
Plenius & melius Chrysippo & Crantore dicit.

If the Reader does not observe the Morality of the Ilias, he loses half, and the nobler part of its Beauty: He reads it as a common Romance, and mistakes the chief Aim of it, which is to instruct.

Blest is the Man who pays the Gods above

The constant Tribute of Respect and Love:
Those who inhabit the Olympian Bow'r
My Son forgot not, in exalted Pow'r;
And Heav'n, that ev'ry Virtue bears in mind,
Ev'n to the Ashes of the Just, is kind.
But thou, oh gen'rous Youth! this Goblet take,
A Pledge of Gratitude for Hector's sake;
And while the fav'ring Gods our Steps survey,
Safe to Pelides' Tent conduct my way.
To whom the latent God. O King forbear
To tempt my Youth, for apt is Youth to err:

Verse 531. But can I, absent, &c.] In the Original of this Place (which I have paraphras'd a little) the Word Συλευειν is remarkable. Priam offers Mercury (whom he looks upon as a Soldier of Achilles) a Present, which he refuses, because his Prince is ignorant of it: This Present he calls a direct Theft or Robbery; which may shew us how strict the Notions of Justice were in the Days of Homer, when if a Prince's Servant receiv'd any Present without the Knowledge of his Master, he was esteem'd a Thief and a Robber. Eustathius.

But can I, absent from my Prince's Sight,

Take Gifts in secret, that must shun the Light?
What from our Master's Int'rest thus we draw,
Is but a licens'd Theft that 'scapes the Law.
Respecting him, my Soul abjures th'Offence;
And as the Crime I dread the Consequence.
Thee, far as Argos, pleas'd I could convey;
Guard of thy Life, and Partner of thy Way.

170

On thee attend, thy Safety to maintain,
O'er pathless Forests, or the roaring Main.
He said, then took the Chariot at a Bound,
And snatch'd the Reins, and whirl'd the Lash around:
Before th'inspiring God that urg'd them on,
The Coursers fly with Spirit not their own.
And now they reach'd the naval Walls, and found
The Guards repasting, while the Bowls go round;
On these the Virtue of his Wand he tries,
And pours deep Slumber on their watchful Eyes:
Then heav'd the massy Gates, remov'd the Bars,
And o'er the Trenches led the rolling Cars.
Unseen, thro' all the hostile Camp they went,
And now approach'd Pelides' lofty Tent.

Verse 553. Of Fir the Roof was rais'd.] I have in the course of these Observations describ'd the Method of encamping used by the Grecians: The Reader has here a full and exact Description of the Tent of Achilles: This royal Pavilion was built with long Palisadoes made of Firr; the Top of it cover'd with Reeds, and the Inside was divided into several Apartments: Thus Achilles had his αυλη μεγαλη, or large Hall, and behind it were lodging Rooms. So in the ninth Book Phœnix has a Bed prepared for him in one Apartment, Patroclus has another for himself and his Captive Iphis, and Achilles has a third for himself and his Mistress Diomeda.

But we must not imagine that the other Myrmidons had Tents of the like Dimensions: they were, as Eustathius observes, inferior to this royal one of Achilles: Which indeed is no better than an Hovel, yet agrees very well with the Duties of a Soldier, and the Simplicity of those early Times.

I am of Opinion that such fixed Tents were not used by the Grecians in their common Marches, but only during the time of Sieges, when their long stay in one Place made it necessary to build such Tents as are here describ'd; at other times they lay like Diomed in the tenth Book, in the open Air, their Spears standing upright, to be ready upon any Alarm; and with the Hides of Beasts spread on the Ground instead of a Bed.

It is worthy Observation that Homer even upon so trivial an Occasion as the describing the Tent of Achilles, takes an Opportunity to shew the superior Strength of his Hero; and tells us that three Men could scarce open the Door of his Pavilion, but Achilles could open it alone.

Of Fir the Roof was rais'd, and cover'd o'er

With Reeds collected from the marshy Shore;
And, fenc'd with Palisades, a Hall of State,
(The Work of Soldiers) where the Hero sate.
Large was the Door, whose well-compacted Strength
A solid Pine-tree barr'd of wond'rous Length;
Scarce three strong Greeks could lift its mighty Weight,
But great Achilles singly clos'd the Gate.

171

This Hermes (such the Pow'r of Gods) set wide;
Then swift alighted the cœlestial Guide,
And thus, reveal'd—Hear Prince! and understand
Thou ow'st thy Guidance to no mortal Hand:
Hermes I am, descended from above,
The King of Arts, the Messenger of Jove.
Farewell: To shun Achilles' Sight I fly;
Uncommon are such Favours of the Sky,

Verse 569. Nor stand confest to frail Mortality.] Eustathius thinks it was from this Maxim, that the Princes of the East assum'd that Air of Majesty which separates them from the Sight of their Subjects; but I should rather believe that Homer copied this after the Originals from some Kings of his Time: it not being unlikely that this Policy is very ancient. Dacier.

Nor stand confest to frail Mortality.

Now fearless enter, and prefer thy Pray'rs;

Verse 571. Adjure him by his Father, &c.] Eustathius observes that Priam does not entirely follow the Instructions of Mercury, but only calls to his remembrance his aged Father Peleus: And this was judiciously done by Priam: For what Motive to Compassion could arise from the mention of Thetis, who was a Goddess, and incapable of Misfortune? Or how could Neoptolemus be any Inducement to make Achilles pity Priam, when at the same time he flourish'd in the greatest Prosperity? And therefore Priam only mentions his Father Peleus, who like him, stood upon the very Brink of the Grave, and was liable to the same Misfortunes he then suffer'd. These are the Remarks of Eustathius, but how then shall we justify Mercury, the God of Eloquence, who gave him such improper Instructions with relation to Thetis? All that can be said in defence of the Poet is, that Thetis, tho' a Goddess, has thro' the whole Course of the Ilias been describ'd as a Partner in all the Afflictions of Achilles, and consequently might be made use of as an Inducement to raise the Compassion of Achilles. Priam might have said, I conjure thee by the Love thou bearest to thy Mother, take pity on me! For if she who is a Goddess would grieve for the Loss of her beloved Son, how greatly must the Loss of Hector afflict the unfortunate Hecuba and Priam?

Adjure him by his Father's silver Hairs,

His Son, his Mother! urge him to bestow
Whatever Pity that stern Heart can know.
Thus having said, he vanish'd from his Eyes,
And in a moment shot into the Skies:
The King, confirm'd from Heav'n, alighted there,
And left his aged Herald on the Car.
With solemn Pace thro' various Rooms he went,
And found Achilles in his inner Tent:
There sate the Hero; Alcimus the brave,
And great Automedon, Attendance gave:

172

These serv'd his Person at the royal Feast,
Around, at awful distance, stood the rest.
Unseen by these, the King his Entry made;
And prostrate now before Achilles laid,

Verse 586. Sudden, (a venerable Sight!) appears.] I fancy this Interview between Priam and Achilles would furnish an admirable Subject for a Painter, in the Surprize of Achilles, and the other Spectators, the Attitude of Priam, and the Sorrows in the Countenance of this unfortunate King.

That Circumstance of Priam's kissing the Hands of Achilles is inimitably fine; he kiss'd, says Homer, the Hands of Achilles, those terrible, murderous Hands that had robb'd him of so many Sons: By these two Words the Poet recalls to our Mind all the noble Actions perform'd by Achilles in the whole Ilias; and at the same time strikes us with the utmost Compassion for this unhappy King, who is reduc'd so low as to be oblig'd to kiss those Hands that had slain his Subjects, and ruin'd his Kingdom and Family.

Sudden, (a venerable Sight!) appears;

Embrac'd his Knees, and bath'd his Hands in Tears;
Those direful Hands his Kisses press'd, embru'd
Ev'n with the best, the dearest of his Blood!
As when a Wretch, (who conscious of his Crime
Pursu'd for Murder, flies his native Clime)
Just gains some Frontier, breathless, pale! amaz'd!
All gaze, all wonder: Thus Achilles gaz'd:
Thus stood th'Attendants stupid with Surprize;
All mute, yet seem'd to question with their Eyes:
Each look'd on other, none the Silence broke,
Till thus at last the Kingly Suppliant spoke,

Verse 598. The Speech of Priam to Achilles .] The Curiosity of the Reader must needs be awaken'd to know how Achilles would behave to this unfortunate King; it requires all the Art of the Poet to sustain the violent Character of Achilles, and yet at the same time to soften him into Compassion. To this end the Poet uses no Preamble, but breaks directly into that Circumstance which is most likely to mollify him, and the two first Words he utters are, μνησαι Πατρος, see thy Father, O Achilles, in me! Nothing could be more happily imagin'd than this Entrance into his Speech; Achilles has every where been describ'd as bearing a great Affection to his Father, and by two Words the Poet recalls all the Tenderness that Love and Duty can suggest to an affectionate Son.

Priam tells Achilles that Hector fell in the Defence of his Country: I am far from thinking that this was inserted accidentally; it could not fail of having a very good Effect upon Achilles, not only as one brave Man naturally loves another, but as it implies that Hector had no particular Enmity against Achilles, but that tho' he fought against him it was in Defence of his Country.

The Reader will observe that Priam repeats the Beginning of his Speech, and recalls his Father to his Memory in the Conclusion of it. This is done with great Judgment; the Poet takes care to enforce his Petition with the strongest Motive, and leaves it fresh upon his Memory; and possibly Priam might perceive that the mention of his Father had made a deeper Impression upon Achilles than any other part of his Petition, therefore while the Mind of Achilles dwells upon it, he again sets him before his Imagination by this Repetition, and softens him into Compassion.

Ah think, thou favour'd of the Pow'rs Divine!

Think of thy Father's Age, and pity mine!
In me, that Father's rev'rend Image trace,
Those silver Hairs, that venerable Face;
His trembling Limbs, his helpless Person, see!
In all my Equal, but in Misery!

173

Yet now perhaps, some Turn of human Fate
Expells him helpless from his peaceful State;
Think from some pow'rful Foe tho see'st him fly,
And beg Protection with a feeble Cry,
Yet still one Comfort in his Soul may rise;
He hears his Son still lives to glad his Eyes;
And hearing still may hope, a better Day
May send him thee to chase that Foe away.
No Comfort to my Griefs, no Hopes remain,
The best, the bravest of my Sons are slain!
Yet what a Race? e'er Greece to Ilion came,
The Pledge of many a lov'd, and loving Dame;
Nineteen one Mother bore—Dead, all are dead!
How oft, alas! has wretched Priam bled?
Still One was left, their Loss to recompense;
His Father's Hope, his Country's last Defence.
Him too thy Rage has slain! beneath thy Steel
Unhappy, in his Country's Cause he fell!
For him, thro' hostile Camps I bent my way,
For him thus prostrate at thy Feet I lay;
Large Gifts, proportion'd to thy Wrath, I bear;
Oh hear the Wretched, and the Gods revere!

174

Think of thy Father, and this Face behold!
See him in me, as helpless and as old!
Tho' not so wretched: There he yields to me,
The First of Men in sov'reign Misery.
Thus forc'd to kneel, thus grov'ling to embrace
The Scourge and Ruin of my Realm and Race;
Suppliant my Childrens Murd'rer to implore,
And kiss those Hands yet reeking with their Gore!

Verse 634. These Words soft Pity, &c.] We are now come almost to the end of the Poem, and consequently to the end of the Anger of Achilles: And Homer has describ'd the Abatement of it with excellent Judgment. We may here observe how necessary the Conduct of Homer was, in sending Thetis to prepare her Son to use Priam with Civility: It would have ill suited with the violent Temper of Achilles to have used Priam with Tenderness without such Pre-admonition; nay, the unexpected Sight of his Enemy might probably have carry'd him into Violence and Rage: But Homer has avoided these Absurdities; for Achilles being already prepared for a Reconciliation, the Misery of this venerable Prince naturally melts him into Compassion.

These Words soft Pity in the Chief inspire,

Touch'd with the dear Remembrance of his Sire.
Then with his Hand (as prostrate still he lay)
The Old Man's Cheek he gently turn'd away.
Now each by turns indulg'd the Gush of Woe;
And now the mingled Tides together flow:
This low on Earth, that gently bending o'er,
A Father one, and one a Son, deplore:
But great Achilles diff'rent Passions rend,
And now his Sire he mourns, and now his Friend.
Th'infectious Softness thro' the Heroes ran;
One universal, solemn Show'r began;
They bore as Heroes, but they felt as Man.

175

Satiate at length with unavailing Woes,
From the high Throne divine Achilles rose;
The rev'rend Monarch by the Hand he rais'd;
On his white Beard and Form majestick gaz'd,
Not unrelenting: Then serene began
With Words to sooth the miserable Man.

Verse 653. Achilles's Speech to Priam .] There is not a more beautiful Passage in the whole Ilias than this before us: Homer to shew that Achilles was not a mere Soldier, here draws him as a Person of excellent Sense and sound reason: Plato himself (who condemns this Passage) could not speak more like a true Philosopher: And it was a piece of great Judgment thus to describe him; for the Reader would have retain'd but a very indifferent Opinion of the Hero of a Poem, that had no Qualification but mere Strength: It also shews the Art of the Poet thus to defer this part of his Character till the very Conclusion of the Poem: By these means he fixes an Idea of his Greatness upon our Minds, and makes his Hero go off the Stage with Applause.

Neither does he here ascribe more Wisdom to Achilles than he might really be Master of; for as Eustathius observes, he had Chiron and Phœnix for his Tutors, and a Goddess for his Mother.

Alas! what Weight of Anguish hast thou known?

Unhappy Prince! thus guardless and alone
To pass thro' Foes, and thus undaunted face
The Man whose Fury has destroy'd thy Race?
Heav'n sure has arm'd thee with a Heart of Steel,
A Strength proportion'd to the Woes you feel.
Rise then: Let Reason mitigate our Care:
To mourn, avails not: Man is born to bear.
Such is, alas! the Gods severe Decree;
They, only they are blest, and only free.

Verse 663. Two Urns by Jove's high Throne, &c. This is an admirable Allegory, and very beautifully imagin'd by the Poet. Plato has accus'd it as an Impiety to say that God gives Evil: But it seems borrow'd from the Eastern way of speaking, and bears a great Resemblance to several Expressions in Scripture: Thus in the Psalms, In the Hand of the Lord there is a Cup, and he poureth out of the same; as for the Dregs thereof, all the Ungodly of the Earth shall drink them.

It was the Custom of the Jews to give condemn'd Persons just before Execution, οινον εσμυρνισμενον, Wine mix'd with Myrrh; to make them less sensible of Pain: Thus Proverbs xxxi. 6. Give strong Drink to him that is ready to perish. This Custom was so frequent among the Jews, that the Cup which was given before Execution, came to denote Death itself, as in that Passage, Father let this Cup pass from me.

Some have suppos'd that there were three Urns, one of Good, and two of Evil; thus Pindar,

Εν γαρ εσθλον, πηματα συνδυο
Δαιονται βροτοις αθανατοι.

But, as Eustathius observes, the Word ετερος shews that there were but two, for that Word is never used when more than two are intended.

Two Urns by Jove's high Throne have ever stood,

The Source of Evil one, and one of Good;
From thence the Cup of mortal Man he fills,
Blessings to these, to those distributes Ills;
To most, he mingles both: The Wretch decreed
To taste the bad, unmix'd, is curst indeed;

176

Pursu'd by Wrongs, by meagre Famine driv'n,
He wanders, Outcast both of Earth and Heav'n.
The Happiest taste not Happiness sincere,
But find the cordial Draught is dash'd with Care.
Who more than Peleus shone in Wealth and Pow'r?
What Stars concurring blest his natal Hour?
A Realm, a Goddess, to his Wishes giv'n,
Grac'd by the Gods with all the Gifts of Heav'n!
One Evil yet o'ertakes his latest Day,
No Race succeeding to imperial Sway:
One only Son! and he (alas!) ordain'd
To fall untimely in a foreign Land!
See him, in Troy, the pious Care decline
Of his weak Age, to live the Curse of thine!
Thou too, Old Man, hast happier Days beheld;
In Riches once, in Children once excell'd;

Verse 685. Extended Phrygia , &c.] Homer here gives us a piece of Geography, and shews the full Extent of Priam's Kingdom. Lesbos bounded it on the South, Phrygia on the East, and the Hellespont on the North. This Kingdom, according to Strabo in the 13th Book, was divided into nine Dynasties, who all depended upon Priam as their King: So that what Homer here relates of Priam's Power is literally true, and confirm'd by History. Eustathius.

Extended Phrygia own'd thy ample Reign,

And all fair Lesbos' blissful Seats contain,
And all wide Hellespont's unmeasur'd Main.
But since the God his Hand has pleas'd to turn,
And fill thy Measure from his bitter Urn,

177

What sees the Sun, but hapless Heroes Falls?
War, and the Blood of Men, surround thy Walls!
What must be, must be. Bear thy Lot, nor shed
These unavailing Sorrows o'er the Dead;
Thou can'st not call him from the Stygian Shore,
But thou alas! may'st live, to suffer more!
To whom the King. Oh favour'd of the Skies!
Here let me grow to Earth! since Hector lies
On the bare Beach, depriv'd of Obsequies.
Oh give me Hector! to my Eyes restore
His Corse, and take the Gifts: I ask no more.
Thou, as thou may'st, these boundless Stores enjoy;
Safe may'st thou sail, and turn thy Wrath from Troy;
So shall thy Pity and Forbearance give
A weak old Man to see the Light and live!
Move me no more (Achilles thus replies

Verse 706. While kindling Anger sparkled in his Eyes.] I believe every Reader must be surpriz'd, as I confess I was, to see Achilles fly out into so sudden a Passion, without any apparent Reason for it. It can scarce be imagin'd that the Name of Hector (as Eustathius thinks, could throw him into so much Violence, when he had heard it mention'd with Patience and Calmness by Priam in this very Conference: Especially if we remember that Achilles had actually determin'd to restore the Body of Hector to Priam. I was therefore very well pleas'd to find that the Words in the Original would bear another Interpretation, and such a one as naturally solves the Difficulty. The Meaning of the Passage I fancy may be this: Priam perceiving that his address had mollify'd the Heart of Achilles, takes this Opportunity to persuade him to give over the War, and return home; especially since his Anger was sufficiently satisfy'd by the Fall of Hector. Immediately Achilles takes fire at this Proposal, and answers, “Is it not enough that I have determin'd to restore thy Son? Ask no more, lest I retract that Resolution.” In this View we see a natural Reason for the sudden Passion of Achilles.

What may perhaps strengthen this Conjecture is the Word πρωτον; and then the Sense will run thus; Since I have found so much Favour in thy Sight, as first to permit me to live, O wouldst thou still enlarge my Happiness, and return home to thy own Country! &c.

This Opinion may be farther establish'd from what follows in the latter end of this Interview, where Achilles asks Priam how many Days he would request for the Interment of Hector? Achilles had refus'd to give over the war, but yet consents to intermit it a few Days; and then the Sense will be this, “I will not consent to return home, but ask a time for a Cessation, and it shall be granted.” And what most strongly speaks for this Interpretation is the Answer of Priam, I ask, says he, eleven Days to bury my Son, and then let the War commence again, since it must be so, ειπερ αναγκη; since you necessitate me to it; or since you will not be persuaded to leave these Shores.

Verse 706. While kindling Anger sparkled in his Eyes.] The Reader may be pleas'd to observe that this is the last Sally of the Resentment of Achilles; and the Poet judiciously describes him moderating it by his own Reflection: So that his Reason now prevails over his Anger, and the Design of the Poem is fully executed.

While kindling Anger sparkled in his Eyes)

Nor seek by Tears my steady Soul to bend;
To yield thy Hector I my self intend:

Verse 708, 709. For know from Jove my Goddess Mother came.] The Injustice of La Motte's Criticism (who blames Homer for representing Achilles so mercenary, as to enquire into the Price offer'd for Hector's Body before he would restore it) will appear plainly from this Passage, where he makes Achilles expressly say, it is not for any other Reason that he delivers the Body, but that Heaven had directly commanded it. The Words are very full,

------ Διοθεν δε μοι αγγελος ηλθε
Μητηρ η μ' ετεκεν, θυγατηρ αλιοιο γεροντος,
Και δε σε γινωσκω Πριαμε φρεσιν, ουδε με ληθεις,
Οττι Θεων τις ηγε θοας επι νηας Αχαιων,
For know, from Jove my Goddess-Mother came,

(Old Ocean's Daughter, silver-footed Dame)

178

Nor com'st thou but by Heav'n; nor com'st alone,
Some God impells with Courage not thy own:
No human Hand the weighty Gates unbarr'd,
Nor could the boldest of our Youth have dar'd
To pass our Outworks, or elude the Guard.
Cease; lest neglectful of high Jove's Command
I show thee, King! thou tread'st on hostile Land;
Release my Knees, thy suppliant Arts give o'er,
And shake the Purpose of my Soul no more.
The Sire obey'd him, trembling and o'er-aw'd.
Achilles, like a Lion, rush'd abroad:
Automedon and Alcimus attend,
Whom most he honour'd, since he lost his Friend;
These to unyoke the Mules and Horses went,
And led the hoary Herald to the Tent;
Next heap'd on high the num'rous Presents bear
(Great Hector's Ransome) from the polish'd Car.
Two splendid Mantles, and a Carpet spread,
They leave; to cover, and inwrap the Dead.
Then call the Handmaids with assistant Toil
To wash the Body, and anoint with Oil;

179

Apart from Priam, lest th'unhappy Sire
Provok'd to Passion, once more rouze to Ire
The stern Pelides; and nor sacred Age
Nor Jove's Command, should check the rising Rage.
This done, the Garments o'er the Corse they spread;
Achilles lifts it to the fun'ral Bed:
Then, while the Body on the Car they laid,
He groans, and calls on lov'd Patroclus' Shade.
If, in that Gloom which never Light must know,
The Deeds of Mortals touch the Ghosts below;
O Friend! forgive me, that I thus fulfill
(Restoring Hector) Heav'ns unquestion'd Will.
The Gifts the Father gave, be ever thine,
To grace thy Manes, and adorn thy Shrine.
He said, and entring, took his Seat of State,
Where full before him rev'rend Priam sate:
To whom, compos'd, the god-like Chief begun.
Lo! to thy Pray'r restor'd, thy breathless Son:
Extended on the Fun'ral Couch he lies;
And soon as Morning paints the Eastern Skies,
The Sight is granted to thy longing Eyes.

180

But now the peaceful Hours of sacred Night
Demand Refection, and to Rest invite:
Nor thou O Father! thus consum'd with Woe,
The common Cares that nourish Life, foregoe.

Verse 757. Not thus did Niobe , &c.] Achilles, to comfort Priam, tells him a known History; which was very proper to work this Effect. Niobe had lost all her Children, Priam had some remaining. Niobe's Children had been nine Days extended on the Earth, drown'd in their Blood, in the Sight of their People, without any one presenting himself to interr them: Hector has likewise been twelve Days, but in the midst of his Enemies; therefore 'tis no wonder that no one has paid him the last Duties. The Gods at last interr'd Niobe's Children, and the Gods likewise are concern'd to procure honourable Funerals for Hector. Eustathius.

Not thus did Niobe, of Form divine,

A Parent once, whose Sorrows equal'd thine:
Six youthful Sons, as many blooming Maids
In one sad Day beheld the Stygian Shades;
These by Apollo's silver Bow were slain,
Those, Cynthia's Arrows stretch'd upon the Plain.
So was her Pride chastiz'd by Wrath divine,
Who match'd her own with bright Latona's Line;
But two the Goddess, twelve the Queen enjoy'd;
Those boasted twelve th'avenging two destroy'd.
Steep'd in their Blood, and in the Dust outspread,
Nine Days neglected lay expos'd the Dead;
None by to weep them, to inhume them none;
(For Jove had turn'd the Nation all to Stone:)
The Gods themselves at length relenting, gave
Th'unhappy Race the Honours of a Grave.
Her self a Rock, (for such was Heav'ns high Will)
Thro' Desarts wild now pours a weeping Rill;

181

Where round the Bed whence Acheloüs springs
The wat'ry Fairies dance in mazy Rings,
There high on Sipylus his shaggy Brow,
She stands her own sad Monument of Woe;
The Rock for ever lasts, the Tears for ever flow!
Such Griefs, O King! have other Parents known;
Remember theirs, and mitigate thy own.
The Care of Heav'n thy Hector has appear'd,
Nor shall he lye unwept, and uninterr'd;
Soon may thy aged Cheeks in Tears be drown'd,
And all the Eyes of Ilion stream around.
He said, and rising, chose the Victim Ewe
With silver Fleece, which his Attendants slew.
The Limbs they sever from the reeking Hyde,
With Skill prepare them, and in Parts divide:
Each on the Coals the sep'rate Morsels lays,
And hasty, snatches from the rising Blaze.
With Bread the glitt'ring Canisters they load,
Which round the Board Automedon bestow'd:
The Chief himself to each his Portion plac'd,
And each indulging shar'd in sweet Repast.

182

When now the Rage of Hunger was represt,
The wond'ring Hero eyes his royal Guest;

Verse 799. The royal Guest the Hero eyes, &c.] The Poet omits no Opportunity of praising his Hero Achilles, and it is observable that he now commends him for his more amiable Qualities: He softens the terrible Idea we have conceiv'd of him, as a Warrior, with several Virtues of Humanity; and the angry, vindictive Soldier is become calm and compassionate. In this place he makes his very Enemy admire his Personage, and be astonish'd at his manly Beauty. So that tho' Courage be his most distinguishing Character, yet Achilles is admirable both for the Endowments of Mind and Body.

Επικερτομεων. The Sense of this Word differs in this place from that it usually bears: It does not imply τραχυτητα υβριστικην, any reproachful Asperity of Language, but εισηγησιν ψευδους φοβου, the raising of a false Fear in the old Man, that he might not be concern'd at his being lodg'd in the outermost part of the Tent; and by this method he gives Priam an Opportunity of going away in the Morning without Observation. Eustathius.

No less the royal Guest the Hero eyes,

His god-like Aspect and majestick Size;
Here, youthful Grace and noble Fire engage,
And there, the mild Benevolence of Age.
Thus gazing long, the Silence neither broke,
(A solemn Scene!) at length the Father spoke.
Permit me now, belov'd of Jove! to steep
My careful Temples in the Dew of Sleep:
For since the Day that numbred with the Dead
My hapless Son, the Dust has been my Bed,
Soft Sleep a Stranger to my weeping Eyes,
My only Food my Sorrows and my Sighs!
Till now, encourag'd by the Grace you give,
I share thy Banquet, and consent to live.
With that, Achilles bad prepare the Bed,
With Purple soft, and shaggy Carpets spread;
Forth, by the flaming Lights, they bend their way,
And place the Couches, and the Cov'rings lay.
Then he: Now Father sleep, but sleep not here,
Consult thy Safety, and forgive my Fear,

183

Lest any Argive, (at this Hour awake,

Verse 819. To ask our Counsel, or our Orders take.]

The Poet here shews the Importance of Achilles in the Army; tho' Agamemnon be the General, yet all the chief Commanders apply to him for Advice; and thus he promises Priam a Cessation of Arms for several Days, purely by his own Authority. The Method that Achilles took to confirm the Truth of the Cessation, agrees with the Custom which we use at this Day, he gave him his Hand upon it.

------ χειρα γεροντος
Ελλαβε δεξιτερην ------
Eustathius.
To ask our Counsel or our Orders take,)

Approaching sudden to our open'd Tent,
Perchance behold thee, and our Grace prevent.
Should such report thy honour'd Person here,
The King of Men the Ransom might defer.
But say with speed, if ought of thy Desire
Remains unask'd; what Time the Rites require
T'inter thy Hector? For, so long we stay
Our slaught'ring Arm, and bid the Hosts obey.
If then thy Will permit (the Monarch said)
To finish all due Honours to the Dead,
This, of thy Grace, accord: To thee are known
The Fears of Ilion, clos'd within her Town,
And at what distance from our Walls aspire
The Hills of Ide, and Forests for the Fire.
Nine Days to vent our Sorrows I request,
The tenth shall see the Fun'ral and the Feast;
The next, to raise his Monument be giv'n;
The twelfth we war, if War be doom'd by Heav'n!
This thy Request (reply'd the Chief) enjoy:
Till then, our Arms suspend the Fall of Troy

184

Then gave his Hand at parting, to prevent
The Old Man's Fears, and turn'd within the Tent;
Where fair Briseïs bright in blooming Charms
Expects her Hero with desiring Arms.
But in the Porch the King and Herald rest,
Sad Dreams of Care yet wand'ring in their Breast.
Now Gods and Men the Gifts of Sleep partake;
Industrious Hermes only was awake,
The King's Return revolving in his Mind,
To pass the Ramparts, and the Watch to blind.
The Pow'r descending hover'd o'er his Head:
And sleep'st thou Father! (thus the Vision said)
Now dost thou sleep, when Hector is restor'd?
Nor fear the Grecian Foes, nor Grecian Lord?
Thy Presence here shou'd stern Atrides see,
Thy still-surviving Sons may sue for thee,
May offer all thy Treasures yet contain,
To spare thy Age; and offer all in vain!
Wak'd with the Word, the trembling Sire arose,
And rais'd his Friend: The God before him goes,
He joins the Mules, directs them with his Hand,
And moves in Silence thro' the hostile Land.

185

When now to Xanthus' yellow Stream they drove,
(Xanthus, immortal Progeny of Jove)
The winged Deity forsook their View,
And in a Moment to Olympus flew.
Now shed Aurora round her Saffron Ray,
Sprung thro' the Gates of Light, and gave the Day:
Charg'd with their mournful Load, to Ilion goe
The Sage and King, majestically slow.
Cassandra first beholds, from Ilion's Spire,
The sad Procession of her hoary Sire,
Then, as the pensive Pomp advanc'd more near,
Her breathless Brother stretch'd upon the Bier:
A Show'r of Tears o'erflows her beauteous Eyes,
Alarming thus all Ilion with her Cries.
Turn here your steps, and here your eyes employ,
Ye wretched Daughters, and ye Sons of Troy!
If e'er ye rush'd in Crowds, with vast Delight
To hail your Hero glorious from the Fight;
Now meet him dead, and let your Sorrows flow!
Your common Triumph, and your common Woe
In thronging Crowds they issue to the Plains,
Nor Man, nor Woman, in the Walls remains.

186

In ev'ry Face the self-same Grief is shown,
And Troy sends forth one universal Groan.
At Scæa's Gates they meet the mourning Wain,
Hang on the Wheels, and grovel round the Slain.
The Wife and Mother, frantic with Despair,
Kiss his pale Cheek, and rend their scatter'd Hair:
Thus wildly wailing, at the Gates they lay;
And there had sigh'd and sorrow'd out the Day;
But god-like Priam from the Chariot rose:
Forbear (he cry'd) this Violence of Woes,
First to the Palace let the Car proceed,
Then pour your boundless Sorrows o'er the Dead.
The Waves of People at his Word divide,
Slow rolls the Chariot thro' the following Tide;
Ev'n to the Palace the sad Pomp they wait:
They weep, and place him on the Bed of State.

Verse 900. A melancholy Choir, &c. This was a Custom generally receiv'd, and which passed from the Hebrews to the Greeks, Romans, and Asiaticks. There were Weepers by Profession, of both Sexes, who sung doleful Tunes round the Dead. Ecclesiasticus cap. 12. V. 5. When a Man shall go into the House of his Eternity, there shall encompass him Weepers. It appears from St. Matthew xi. 17. that Children were likewise employed in this Office. Dacier.

A melancholy Choir attend around,

With plaintive Sighs, and Musick's solemn Sound:
Alternately they sing, alternate flow
Th'obedient Tears, melodious in their Woe.
While deeper Sorrows groan from each full Heart,
And Nature speaks at ev'ry Pause of Art.

187

Verse 906. &c. The Lamentations over Hector .] The Poet judiciously makes Priam to be silent in this general Lamentation; he has already born a sufficient Share in these Sorrows, in the Tent of Achilles, and said what Grief can dictate to a Father and a King upon such a melancholy Subject. But he introduces three Women as chief Mourners, and speaks only in general of the Lamentation of the Men of Troy, an Excess of Sorrow being unmanly: Whereas these Women might with Decency indulge themselves in all the Lamentation that Fondness and Grief could suggest. The Wife, the Mother of Hector, and Helen, are the three Persons introduced; and tho' they all mourn upon the same Occasion, yet their Lamentations are so different, that not a Sentence that is spoken by the one, could be made use of by the other: Andromache speaks like a tender Wife, Hecuba like a fond Mother, and Helen mourns with a Sorrow rising from Self-accusation: Andromache commends his Bravery, Hecuba his manly Beauty, and Helen his Gentleness and Humanity.

Homer is very concise in describing the Funeral of Hector, which was but a necessary piece of Conduct, after he had been so full in that of Patroclus.

First to the Corse the weeping Consort flew;

Around his Neck her milk-white Arms she threw,
And oh my Hector! oh my Lord! she cries,
Snatch'd in thy Bloom from these desiring Eyes!
Thou to the dismal Realms for ever gone!
And I abandon'd, desolate, alone!
An only Son, once Comfort of our Pains,
Sad Product now of hapless Love, remains!
Never to manly Age that Son shall rise,
Or with increasing Graces glad my Eyes:
For Ilion now (her great Defender slain)
Shall sink, a smoaking Ruin on the Plain.
Who now protects her Wives with guardian Care?
Who saves her Infants from the Rage of War?
Now hostile Fleets must waft those Infants o'er,
(Those Wives must wait 'em) to a foreign Shore!
Thou too my Son! to barb'rous Climes shalt goe,
The sad Companion of thy Mother's Woe;
Driv'n hence a Slave before the Victor's Sword;
Condemn'd to toil for some inhuman Lord.
Or else some Greek whose Father prest the Plain,
Or Son, or Brother, by great Hector slain;

188

In Hector's Blood his Vengeance shall enjoy,
And hurl thee headlong from the Tow'rs of Troy.
For thy stern Father never spar'd a Foe:
Thence all these Tears, and all this Scene of Woe!
Thence, many Evils his sad Parents bore,
His Parents many, but his Consort more.

Verse 394.

Why gav'st thou not to me thy dying Hand,
And why receiv'd not I thy last Command?

I have taken these two Lines from Mr. Congreve, whose Translation of this Part was one of his first Essays in Poetry. He has very justly render'd the Sense of Πυκινον επος, dictum prudens, which is meant of the Words of a dying Man, or one in some dangerous Exigence; at which times what is spoken is usually something of the utmost Importance, and deliver'd with the utmost Care: Which is the true Signification of the Epithet Πυκινον in this place.

Why gav'st thou not to me thy dying Hand?

And why receiv'd not I thy last Command?
Some Word thou would'st have spoke, which sadly dear,
My Soul might keep, or utter with a Tear;
Which never, never could be lost in Air,
Fix'd in my Heart, and oft repeated there!
Thus to her weeping Maids she makes her Moan;
Her weeping Handmaids echo Groan for Groan.
The mournful Mother next sustains her Part.
Oh thou, the best, the dearest to my Heart!
Of all my Race thou most by Heav'n approv'd,
And by th'Immortals ev'n in Death belov'd!
While all my other Sons in barb'rous Bands
Achilles bound, and sold to foreign Lands,
This felt no Chains, but went a glorious Ghost
Free, and a Hero, to the Stygian Coast.

189

Sentenc'd, 'tis true, by his inhuman Doom,
Thy noble Corse was dragg'd around the Tomb,
(The Tomb of him thy warlike Arm had slain)
Ungen'rous Insult, impotent and vain!
Yet glow'st thou fresh with ev'ry living Grace,
No mark of Pain, or Violence of Face;
Rosy and fair! as Phœbus' silver Bow
Dismiss'd thee gently to the Shades below.
Thus spoke the Dame, and melted into Tears.
Sad Helen next in Pomp of Grief appears:
Fast from the shining Sluices of her Eyes
Fall the round crystal Drops, while thus she cries.
Ah dearest Friend! in whom the Gods had join'd
The mildest Manners with the bravest Mind!
Now twice ten Years (unhappy Years) are o'er
Since Paris brought me to the Trojan Shore;
(Oh had I perish'd, e'er that Form divine
Seduc'd this soft, this easy Heart of mine!)
Yet was it ne'er my Fate, from thee to find
A Deed ungentle, or a Word unkind:
When others curst the Auth'ress of their Woe,
Thy Pity check'd my Sorrows in their Flow:

190

If some proud Brother ey'd me with Disdain,
Or scornful Sister with her sweeping Train,
Thy gentle Accents soften'd all my Pain.
For thee I mourn; and mourn my self in thee,
The wretched Source of all this Misery!
The Fate I caus'd, for ever I bemoan;
Sad Helen has no Friend now thou art gone!
Thro' Troy's wide Streets abandon'd shall I roam,
In Troy deserted, as abhorr'd at Home!
So spoke the Fair, with Sorrow-streaming Eye:
Distressful Beauty melts each Stander-by;
On all around th'infectious Sorrow grows;
But Priam check'd the Torrent as it rose.
Perform, ye Trojans! what the Rites require,
And fell the Forests for a fun'ral Pyre;
Twelve Days, nor Foes, nor secret Ambush dread;
Achilles grants these Honours to the Dead.
He spoke; and at his Word, the Trojan Train
Their Mules and Oxen harness to the Wain,
Pour thro' the Gates, and, fell'd from Ida's Crown,
Roll back the gather'd Forests to the Town.

191

These Toils continue nine succeeding Days,
And high in Air a Sylvan Structure raise.
But when the tenth fair Morn began to shine,
Forth to the Pile was born the Man divine,
And plac'd aloft: while all, with streaming Eyes,
Beheld the Flames and rolling Smokes arise.
Soon as Aurora, Daughter of the Dawn,
With rosy Lustre streak'd the dewy Lawn;
Again the mournful Crowds surround the Pyre,
And quench with Wine the yet remaining Fire.
The snowy Bones his Friends and Brothers place
(With Tears collected) in a golden Vase;
The golden Vase in purple Palls they roll'd,
Of softest Texture, and inwrought with Gold;
Last o'er the Urn the sacred Earth they spread,
And rais'd the Tomb, Memorial of the Dead.
(Strong Guards and Spies, till all the Rites were done,
Watch'd from the rising to the setting Sun)
All Troy then moves to Priam's Court again,
A solemn, silent, melancholy Train.

192

Assembled there, from pious Toil they rest,
And sadly shar'd the last Sepulcral Feast.
Such Honours Ilion to her Hero paid,
And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's Shade.

I must end these Notes by discharging my Duty to two of my Friends, which is the more an indispensable piece of Justice, as the one of them is since dead: The Merit of their Kindness to me will appear infinitely the greater, as the Task they undertook was in its own nature of much more Labour, than either Pleasure or Reputation. The larger part of the Extracts from Eustathius, together with several excellent Observations were sent me by Mr. Broome: And the whole Essay upon Homer was written upon such Memoirs as I had collected, by the late Dr. Parnell, Archdeacon of Clogher in Ireland: How very much that Gentleman's Friendship prevail'd over his Genius, in detaining a Writer of his Spirit in the Drudgery of removing the Rubbish of past Pedants, will soon appear to the World, when they shall see those beautiful Pieces of Poetry the Publication of which he left to my Charge, almost with his dying Breath.

For what remains, I beg to be excus'd from the Ceremonies of taking leave at the End of my Work; and from embarassing myself, or others, with any Defences or Apologies about it. But instead of endeavouring to raise a vain Monument to my self, of the Merits or Difficulties of it (which must be left to the World, to Truth, and to Posterity) let me leave behind me a Memorial of my Friendship, with one of the most valuable Men as well as finest Writers, of my Age and Countrey: One who has try'd, and knows by his own Experience, how hard an Undertaking it is to do Justice to Homer: And one, who (I am sure) sincerely rejoices with me at the Period of my Labours. To Him therefore, having brought this long Work to a Conclusion, I desire to Dedicate it; and to have the Honour and Satisfaction of placing together, in this manner, the Names of Mr. CONGREVE, and of March 25. 1720. A. POPE.


We have now past thro' the Iliad, and seen the Anger of Achilles, and the terrible Effects of it, at an end: As that only was the Subject of the Poem, and the Nature of Epic Poetry would not permit our Author to proceed to the Event of the War, it may perhaps be acceptable to the common Reader to give a short Account of what happen'd to Troy and the chief Actors in this Poem, after the Conclusion of it.

I need not mention that Troy was taken soon after the Death of Hector, by the Stratagem of the wooden Horse, the Particulars of which are describ'd by Virgil in the second Book of the Æneis.

Achilles fell before Troy, by the Hand of Paris, by the Shot of an Arrow in his Heel, as Hector had prophesied at his Death, Lib. 22.

The unfortunate Priam was kill'd by Pyrrhus the Son of Achilles.

Ajax after the Death of Achilles had a Contest with Ulysses for the Armour of Vulcan, but being defeated in his Aim, he slew himself thro' Indignation.

Helen, after the Death of Paris, married Deïphobus his Brother, and at the taking of Troy betray'd him, in order


220

to reconcile herself to Menelaus her first Husband, who receiv'd her again into Favour.

Agamemnon at his return was barbarously murther'd by Ægysthus at the Instigation of Clytæmnestra his Wife, who in his Absence had dishonour'd his Bed with Ægysthus.

Diomed after the Fall of Troy was expell'd his own Countrey, and scarce escap'd with Life from his adulterous Wife Ægiale; but at last was receiv'd by Daunus in Apulia, and shar'd his Kingdom: 'Tis uncertain how he died.

Nestor liv'd in Peace, with his Children, in Pylos his native Countrey.

Ulysses also after innumerable Troubles by Sea and Land, at last return'd in Safety to Ithaca, which is the Subject of Homer's Odysses.

Των Ωεων δη ευποιια το μη επι πλεον, με προκοψαι εν Ποιητικη επιτηδευμασι εν εις ισως αν κατεχεθην, ει ηθομην εμαυτον ευοδως προιοντα.

M Aurel. Anton.de seipso, L. I.
The End of the ILIAD.