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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.

.


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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.


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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.

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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,

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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'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.

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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:

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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.

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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.

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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:

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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,

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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:

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(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;

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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.

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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)

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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:

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'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)

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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)

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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.

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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;

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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.

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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,

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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;

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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.

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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)

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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)

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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

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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;

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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,

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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.

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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.

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


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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 ------

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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


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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.