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The Odyssey of Homer

Translated from the Greek [by Alexander Pope] [with William Broome and Elijah Fenton]

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THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.
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THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.


88

The ARGUMENT. The Interview of Telemachus and Nestor.

Telemachus, guided by Pallas in the shape of Mentor, arrives in the morning at Pylos; where Nestor and his sons are sacrificing on the sea-shore to Neptune. Telemachus declares the occasion of his coming, and Nestor relates what past in their return from Troy, how their fleets were separated, and he never since heard of Ulysses. They discourse concerning the death of Agamemnon, the revenge of Orestes, and the injuries of the Suitors. Nestor advises him to go to Sparta and enquire further of Menelaus. The sacrifice ending with the night, Minerva vanishes from them in the form of an Eagle: Telemachus is lodged in the Palace. The next morning they sacrifice a Bullock to Minerva, and Telemachus proceeds on his journey to Sparta, attended by Pisistratus.

The Scene lyes on the Sea-shore of Pylos.


91

The sacred Sun, above the waters rais'd,
Thro' Heav'n's eternal, brazen portals blaz'd;
And wide o'er earth diffus'd his chearing ray,
To Gods and men to give the golden day.

92

Now on the coast of Pyle the vessel falls,
Before old Neleus' venerable walls.
There, suppliant to the Monarch of the flood,
At nine green Theatres the Pylians stood,

93

Each held five hundred, (a deputed train)
At each, nine oxen on the sand lay slain.
They taste the entrails, and the altars load
With smoaking thighs, an offering to the God.
Full for the port the Ithacensians stand,
And furl their sails, and issue on the land.
Telemachus already prest the shore;
Not first, the Pow'r of Wisdom march'd before,
And ere the sacrificing throng he join'd,
Admonish'd thus his well-attending mind.
Proceed, my son! this youthful shame expel;
An honest business never blush to tell.
To learn what fates thy wretched sire detain,
We past the wide, immeasurable main.
Meet then the Senior far renown'd for sense,
With rev'rent awe, but decent confidence:
Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies;
And sure he will: For Wisdom never lies.

94

Oh tell me, Mentor! tell me, faithful guide,
(The youth with prudent modesty reply'd)
How shall I meet, or how accost the Sage,
Unskill'd in speech, nor yet mature of age?
Awful th'approach, and hard the task appears,
To question wisely men of riper years.
To whom the martial Goddess thus rejoin'd.
Search, for some thoughts, thy own suggesting mind;
And others, dictated by heav'nly pow'r,
Shall rise spontaneous in the needful hour.
For nought unprosp'rous shall thy ways attend,
Born with good omens, and with heav'n thy friend.

95

She spoke, and led the way with swiftest speed:
As swift, the youth pursu'd the way she led;
And join'd the band before the sacred fire,
Where sat, encompast with his sons, the Sire.
The youth of Pylos, some on pointed wood
Transfix'd the fragments, some prepar'd the food.
In friendly throngs they gather to embrace
Their unknown guests, and at the banquet place.
Pisistratus was first, to grasp their hands,
And spread soft hides upon the yellow sands;

96

Along the shore th'illustrious pair he led,
Where Nestor sat with youthful Thrasymed.
To each a portion of the Feast he bore,
And held the golden goblet foaming o'er;
Then first approaching to the elder guest,
The latent Goddess in these words addrest.
Whoe'er thou art, whom fortune brings to keep
These rites of Neptune, monarch of the deep,
Thee first it fits, oh stranger! to prepare
The due libation and the solemn pray'r:
Then give thy friend to shed the sacred wine;
Tho' much thy younger, and his years like mine,
He too, I deem, implores the pow'rs divine:
For all mankind alike require their grace,
All born to want; a miserable race!
He spake, and to her hand preferr'd the bowl:
A secret pleasure touch'd Athena's soul,
To see the pref'rence due to sacred age
Regarded ever by the just and sage.
Of Ocean's King she then implores the grace.
Oh thou! whose arms this ample globe embrace,

97

Fullfil our wish, and let thy glory shine
On Nestor first, and Nestor's royal line;
Next grant the Pylian states their just desires,
Pleas'd with their Hecatomb's ascending fires;
Last deign Telemachus and me to bless,
And crown our voyage with desir'd success.
Thus she; and having paid the rite divine,
Gave to Ulysses' son the rosy wine.
Suppliant he pray'd. And now the victims drest
They draw, divide, and celebrate the feast.
The banquet done, the Narrative old man
Thus mild, the pleasing conference began.
Now, gentle guests! the genial banquet o'er,
It fits to ask ye, what your native shore,
And whence your race? on what adventure, say,
Thus far ye wander thro' the watry way?

98

Relate, if business, or the thirst of gain
Engage your journey o'er the pathless main?
Where savage Pyrates seek thro' seas unknown
The lives of others, vent'rous of their own.
Urg'd by the precepts by the Goddess giv'n,
And fill'd with confidence infus'd from heav'n,
The Youth, whom Pallas destin'd to be wise
And fam'd among the sons of men, replies.
Enquir'st thou, father! from what coast we came?
(Oh grace and glory of the Grecian name!)
From where high Ithaca o'erlooks the floods,
Brown with o'er-arching shades and pendent woods.

99

Us to these shores our filial duty draws,
A private sorrow, not a publick cause.
My sire I seek, where-e'er the voice of fame
Has told the glories of his noble name,
The great Ulysses; fam'd from shore to shore
For valour much, for hardy suff'ring more.
Long time with thee before proud Ilion's wall
In arms he fought; with thee beheld her fall.
Of all the chiefs, this Heroe's fate alone
Has Jove reserv'd, unheard of, and unknown;
Whether in fields by hostile fury slain,
Or sunk by tempests in the gulphy main?
Of this to learn, opprest with tender fears
Lo at thy knee his suppliant son appears.
If or thy certain eye, or curious ear
Have learn't his fate, the whole dark story clear:
And oh! whate'er heav'n destin'd to betide
Let neither flatt'ry smooth, nor pity hide.
Prepar'd I stand: he was but born to try
The lot of man; to suffer, and to die.
Oh then, if ever thro' the ten years war
The wise, the good Ulysses claim'd thy care;
If e'er he join'd thy council, or thy sword,
True in his deed, and constant to his word;

100

Far as thy mind thro' backward time can see,
Search all thy stores of faithful memory:
'Tis sacred truth I ask, and ask of thee.
To him experienc'd Nestor thus rejoin'd.
O friend! what sorrows dost thou bring to mind?
Shall I the long, laborious scene review,
And open all the wounds of Greece anew?
What toils by sea! where dark in quest of prey
Dauntless we rov'd; Achilles led the way:
What toils by land! where mixt in fatal fight
Such numbers fell, such Heroes sunk to night:
There Ajax great, Achilles there the brave,
There wise Patroclus, fill an early grave:

101

There too my son—ah once my best delight,
Once swift of foot, and terrible in fight,
In whom stern courage with soft virtue join'd,
A faultless body, and a blameless mind:
Antilochus—what more can I relate?
How trace the tedious series of our fate?
Not added years on years my task could close,
The long historian of my country's woes:
Back to thy native Islands might'st thou sail,
And leave half-heard the melancholy tale.
Nine painful years, on that detested shore
What stratagems we form'd, what toils we bore?
Still lab'ring on, 'till scarce at last we found
Great Jove propitious, and our conquest crown'd,
Far o'er the rest thy mighty father shin'd,
In wit, in prudence, and in force of mind.

102

Art thou the son of that illustrious sire?
With joy I grasp thee, and with love admire.
So like your voices, and your words so wise,
Who finds thee younger must consult his eyes.
Thy Sire and I were one; nor vary'd aught
In publick sentence, or in private thought;
Alike to Council or th'Assembly came,
With equal souls, and sentiments the same.
But when (by wisdom won) proud Ilion burn'd,
And in their ships the conqu'ring Greeks return'd;
'Twas God's high will the victors to divide,
And turn th'event, confounding human pride:
Some he destroy'd, some scatter'd as the dust,
(Not all were prudent, and not all were just)
Then Discord, sent by Pallas from above,
Stern Daughter of the great Avenger Jove,

103

The Brother-Kings inspir'd with fell debate;
Who call'd to council all th'Achaian state,
But call'd untimely (not the sacred rite
Observ'd, nor heedful of the setting light,
Nor herald sworn, the session to proclaim)
Sour with debauch, a reeling tribe they came.
To these the cause of meeting they explain,
And Menelaus moves to cross the main;

104

Not so the King of Men: he will'd to stay;
The sacred rites and hecatombs to pay,
And calm Minerva's wrath. Oh blind to fate!
The Gods not lightly change their love, or hate.
With ire-full taunts each other they oppose,
'Till in loud tumult all the Greeks arose.
Now diff'rent counsels ev'ry breast divide,
Each burns with rancour to the adverse side:
Th'unquiet night strange projects entertain'd;
(So Jove, that urg'd us to our fate, ordain'd.)
We, with the rising morn our ships unmoor'd,
And brought our captives and our stores aboard;
But half the people with respect obey'd
The King of Men, and at his bidding stay'd.
Now on the wings of winds our course we keep,
(For God had smooth'd the waters of the deep)
For Tenedos we spread our eager oars,
There land, and pay due victims to the pow'rs:
To bless our safe return we join in pray'r,
But angry Jove dispers'd our vows in air,

105

And rais'd new discord. Then (so Heav'n decreed)
Ulysses first and Nestor disagreed:
Wise as he was, by various Counsels sway'd,
He there, tho' late, to please the Monarch, stay'd.
But I, determin'd, stem the foamy floods,
Warn'd of the coming fury of the Gods.
With us Tydides fear'd, and urg'd his haste:
And Menelaus came, but came the last.
He join'd our vessels in the Lesbian bay,
While yet we doubted of our watry way;
If to the right to urge the pilot's toil,
(The safer road) beside the Psyrian isle;
Or the strait course to rocky Chios plow,
And anchor under Mimas' shaggy brow?

106

We sought direction of the pow'r divine:
The God propitious gave the guiding sign;
Thro' the mid seas he bids our navy steer,
And in Eubea shun the woes we fear.
The whistling winds already wak'd the sky;
Before the whistling winds the vessels fly,
With rapid swiftness cut the liquid way,
And reach Gerestus at the point of day.
There hecatombs of bulls to Neptune slain
High-flaming please the monarch of the main.
The fourth day shone, when all their labours o'er
Tydides' vessels touch'd the wish'd-for shore:
But I to Pylos scud before the gales,
The God still breathing on my swelling sails;
Sep'rate from all, I safely landed here;
Their fates or fortunes never reach'd my ear.
Yet what I learn'd, attend; as here I sate,
And ask'd each voyager each Heroe's fate;
Curious to know, and willing to relate.

107

Safe reach'd the Myrmidons their native land,
Beneath Achilles' warlike son's command.
Those, whom the heir of great Apollo's art
Brave Philoctetes taught to wing the dart;
And those whom Idomen from Ilion's plain
Had led, securely crost the dreadful main.
How Agamemnon touch'd his Argive coast,
And how his life by fraud and force he lost,
And how the Murd'rer pay'd his forfeit breath;
What lands so distant from that scene of death
But trembling heard the Fame? and heard, admire
How well the son appeas'd his slaughter'd sire!
Ev'n to th'unhappy, that unjustly bleed,
Heav'n gives Posterity t' avenge the deed.

108

So fell Ægysthus; and may'st thou, my friend,
(On whom the virtues of thy sire descend)
Make future times thy equal act adore,
And be, what brave Orestes was before!
The prudent youth reply'd. Oh thou the grace
And lasting glory of the Grecian race!
Just was the vengeance, and to latest days
Shall long posterity resound the praise.
Some God this arm with equal prowess bless!
And the proud Suitors shall its force confess:
Injurious men! who while my soul is sore
Of fresh Affronts, are meditating more.
But heav'n denies this honour to my hand,
Nor shall my father repossess the land:
The father's fortune never to return,
And the sad son's to suffer and to mourn!
Thus he, and Nestor took the word: My son,
Is it then true, as distant rumours run,

109

That crowds of rivals for thy mother's charms
Thy Palace fill with insults and alarms?
Say, is the fault, thro' tame submission, thine?
Or leagu'd against thee, do thy people join,
Mov'd by some Oracle, or voice divine?
And yet who knows, but ripening lies in fate
An hour of vengeance for th'afflicted state;
When great Ulysses shall suppress these harms,
Ulysses singly, or all Greece in arms.

110

But if Athena, War's triumphant maid,
The happy son, will, as the father, aid,
(Whose fame and safety was her constant care
In ev'ry danger and in ev'ry war:
Never on man did heav'nly favour shine
With rays so strong, distinguish'd and divine,
As those with which Minerva mark'd thy sire)
So might she love thee, so thy soul inspire!
Soon shou'd their hopes in humble dust be laid,
And long oblivion of the bridal bed.
Ah! no such hope (the Prince with sighs replies)
Can touch my breast; that blessing heav'n denies.

111

Ev'n by celestial favour were it giv'n,
Fortune or fate wou'd cross the will of heav'n.
What words are these, and what imprudence thine?
(Thus interpos'd the Martial maid divine)
Forgetful youth! but know, the Pow'r above
With ease can save each object of his love;
Wide as his will, extends his boundless grace;
Nor lost in time, nor circumscrib'd by place.
Happier his lot, who, many sorrows past,
Long-lab'ring gains his natal shore at last;

112

Than who too speedy, hastes to end his life
By some stern ruffian, or adult'rous wife.
Death only is the lot which none can miss,
And all is possible to heav'n, but this.
The best, the dearest fav'rite of the sky
Must taste that cup, for man is born to die.
Thus check'd, reply'd Ulysses' prudent heir:
Mentor, no more—the mournful thought forbear;
For he no more must draw his country's breath,
Already snatch'd by Fate, and the black doom of death!

113

Pass we to other subjects; and engage
On themes remote the venerable Sage:
(Who thrice has seen the perishable kind
Of men decay, and thro' three ages shin'd,
Like Gods majestic, and like Gods in mind.)
For much he knows, and just conclusions draws
From various precedents, and various laws.
O son of Neleus! awful Nestor, tell
How he, the mighty, Agamemnon fell?

114

By what strange fraud Ægysthus wrought, relate,
(By force he could not) such a Heroe's fate?
Liv'd Menelaus not in Greece? or where
Was then the martial brother's pious care?
Condemn'd perhaps some foreign shore to tread;
Or sure Ægysthus had not dar'd the deed.
To whom the Full of Days. Illustrious youth,
Attend (tho' partly thou hast guest) the truth.
For had the martial Menelaus found
The ruffian breathing yet on Argive ground;
Nor earth had hid his carcase from the skies,
Nor Grecian virgins shriek'd his obsequies,
But fowls obscene dismember'd his remains,
And dogs had torn him on the naked plains.
While us the works of bloody Mars employ'd,
The wanton youth inglorious peace enjoy'd;
He, stretch'd at ease in Argos' calm recess,
(Whose stately steeds luxuriant pastures bless)
With flattery's insinuating art
Sooth'd the frail Queen, and poyson'd all her heart.
At first with worthy shame and decent pride,
The royal dame his lawless suit deny'd.

115

For Virtue's image yet possest her mind,
Taught by a Master of the tuneful kind:
Atrides, parting for the Trojan war,
Consign'd the youthful consort to his care;
True to his charge, the Bard preserv'd her long
In honour's limits (such the pow'r of Song)
But when the Gods these objects of their hate
Dragg'd to destruction, by the links of fate;
The bard they banish'd from his native soil,
And left all helpless in a desart isle:

116

There he, the sweetest of the sacred train,
Sung dying to the rocks, but sung in vain.
Then Virtue was no more (her guard away)
She fell, to lust a voluntary prey.
Ev'n to the temple stalk'd th'adult'rous spouse,
With impious thanks, and mockery of vows,
With images, with garments, and with gold,
And od'rous fumes from loaded altars roll'd.
Mean time from flaming Troy we cut the way,
With Menelaus, thro' the curling sea.
But when to Sunium's sacred point we came,
Crown'd with the temple of th'Athenian dame;

117

Atrides' pilot, Phrontes, there expir'd;
(Phrontes, of all the sons of men admir'd
To steer the bounding bark with steddy toil,
When the storm thickens, and the billows boil)
While yet he exercis'd the steerman's art,
Apollo touch'd him with his gentle dart;
Ev'n with the rudder in his hand, he fell.
To pay whose honours to the Shades of hell,
We check'd our haste, by pious office bound,
And laid our old companion in the ground.
And now, the rites discharg'd, our course we keep
Far on the gloomy bosom of the deep:
Soon as Malæa's misty tops arise,
Sudden the Thund'rer blackens all the skies,

118

And the winds whistle, and the surges roll
Mountains on mountains, and obscure the pole.
The tempest scatters, and divides our fleet;
Part, the storm urges on the coast of Crete,
Where winding round the rich Cydonian plain,
The streams of Jardan issue to the main.
There stands a rock, high eminent and steep,
Whose shaggy brow o'erhangs the shady deep,
And views Gortyna on the western side;
On this rough Auster drove th'impetuous tide:
With broken force the billows rowl'd away,
And heav'd the fleet into the neighb'ring bay.
Thus sav'd from death they gain'd the Phæstan shores,
With shatter'd vessels, and disabled oars:
But five tall barks the winds and waters tost
Far from their fellows, on th'Ægyptian coast.

119

There wander'd Menelaus thro' foreign shores,
Amassing gold, and gath'ring naval stores;
While curst Ægysthus the detested deed
By fraud fulfill'd, and his great brother bled.
Sev'n years, the traytor rich Mycenæ sway'd,
And his stern rule the groaning land obey'd;
The eighth, from Athens to his realm restor'd,
Orestes brandish'd the revenging sword,
Slew the dire pair, and gave to fun'ral flame
The vile assassin, and adult'rous dame.
That day, ere yet the bloody triumphs cease,
Return'd Atrides to the coast of Greece,
And safe to Argus port his navy brought,
With gifts of price and pond'rous treasure fraught.

120

Hence warn'd, my son beware! nor idly stand
Too long a stranger to thy native land;
Lest heedless absence wear thy wealth away,
While lawless feasters in thy palace sway;
Perhaps may seize thy realm, and share the spoil;
And thou return, with disappointed toil,
From thy vain journey, to a rifled Isle.
Howe'er, my friend, indulge one labour more,
And seek Atrides on the Spartan shore.
He, wand'ring long, a wider circle made,
And many-languag'd nations has survey'd;
And measur'd tracts unknown to other ships,
Amid the monstrous wonders of the deeps;
(A length of Ocean and unbounded sky,
Which scarce the Sea-fowl in a year o'erfly)

121

Go then; to Sparta take the watry way,
Thy ship and sailors but for orders stay;
Or if by land thou chuse thy course to bend,
My steeds, my chariots, and my sons attend:
Thee to Atrides they shall safe convey,
Guides of thy road, companions of thy way.
Urge him with truth to frame his free replies,
And sure he will: For Menelas is wise.
Thus while he speaks, the ruddy sun descends,
And twilight grey her ev'ning shade extends.
Then thus the blue-ey'd Maid: O full of days!
Wise are thy words, and just are all thy ways.
Now immolate the Tongues, and mix the wine,
Sacred to Neptune and the pow'rs divine.

122

The lamp of day is quench'd beneath the deep,
And soft approach the balmy hours of sleep:
Nor fits it to prolong the heav'nly feast
Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest.
So spake Jove's daughter, the celestial maid.
The sober train attended and obey'd.
The sacred heralds on their hands around
Pour'd the full urns; the youths the goblets crown'd:
From bowl to bowl the holy bev'rage flows;
While to the final sacrifice they rose.
The tongues they cast upon the fragrant flame,
And pour, above, the consecrated stream.

123

And now, their thirst by copious draughts allay'd,
The youthful Heroe and th'Athenian maid
Propose departure from the finish'd rite,
And in their hollow bark to pass the night:
But this the hospitable Sage deny'd.
Forbid it, Jove! and all the Gods! he cry'd,
Thus from my walls the much-lov'd son to send
Of such a heroe, and of such a friend!
Me, as some needy peasant, would ye leave,
Whom heav'n denies the blessing to relieve?
Me would ye leave, who boast imperial sway,
When beds of royal state invite your stay?

124

No—long as life this mortal shall inspire,
Or as my children imitate their sire,
Here shall the wand'ring stranger find his home,
And hospitable rites adorn the dome.
Well hast thou spoke (the blue-ey'd maid replies)
Belov'd old man! benevolent, as wise.
Be the kind dictates of thy heart obey'd,
And let thy words Telemachus persuade:
He to thy palace shall thy steps pursue;
I to the ship, to give the orders due,
Prescribe directions, and confirm the crew.
For I alone sustain their naval cares,
Who boast experience from these silver hairs;
All youths the rest, whom to this journey move
Like years, like tempers, and their Prince's love.
There in the vessel shall I pass the night;
And soon as morning paints the fields of light,
I go to challenge from the Caucons bold,
A debt, contracted in the days of old.

125

But this thy guest, receiv'd with friendly care,
Let thy strong coursers swift to Sparta bear;
Prepare thy chariot at the dawn of day,
And be thy son companion of his way.
Then turning with the word, Minerva flies,
And soars an Eagle thro' the liquid skies.
Vision divine! The throng'd spectators gaze
In holy wonder fixt, and still amaze.
But chief the rev'rend Sage admir'd; he took
The hand of young Telemachus, and spoke.

126

Oh happy Youth! and favour'd of the skies,
Distinguish'd care of guardian deities!

127

Whose early years for future worth engage,
No vulgar manhood, no ignoble age.
For lo! none other of the court above
Than she, the daughter of almighty Jove,
Pallas her self, the War-triumphant Maid,
Confest is thine, as once thy father's aid.
So guide me, Goddess! so propitious shine
On me, my consort, and my royal line!
A yearling bullock to thy name shall smoke.
Untam'd, unconscious of the galling yoke.
With ample forehead, and yet tender horns
Whose budding honours ductile gold adorns.
Submissive thus the hoary Sire preferr'd
His holy vow: the fav'ring Goddess heard.
Then slowly rising, o'er the sandy space
Precedes the father, follow'd by his race,

128

(A long procession) timely marching home
In comely order to the regal dome.
There when arriv'd, on thrones around him plac'd
His sons and grand-sons the wide circle grac'd.
To these the hospitable Sage, in sign
Of social welcome, mix'd the racy wine,
(Late from the mellowing cask restor'd to light,
By ten long years refin'd, and rosy-bright.)
To Pallas high the foaming bowl he crown'd,
And sprinkled large Libation on the ground.
Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares,
And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs.
Deep in a rich Alcove the Prince was laid,
And slept beneath the pompous Colonnade;
Fast by his side Pisistratus lay spread,
(In age his equal) on a splendid bed:
But in an inner court, securely clos'd,
The rev'rend Nestor with his Queen repos'd,
When now Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
With rosie lustre purpled o'er the lawn;
The old man early rose, walk'd forth, and sate
On polish'd stone before his Palace gate:

129

With unguents smooth the lucid marble shone,
Where ancient Neleus sat, a rustic throne;
But he descending to th'infernal shade,
Sage Nestor fill'd it, and the sceptre sway'd.
His sons around him mild obeysance pay,
And duteous take the orders of the day.
First Echephron and Stratius quit their bed;
Then Perseus, Aretus, and Thrasymed;
The last Pisistratus arose from rest:
They came, and near him plac'd the stranger-guest.
To these the Senior thus declar'd his will:
My sons! the dictates of your sire fulfil.

130

To Pallas first of Gods, prepare the feast,
Who grac'd our rites, a more than mortal guest.
Let one, dispatchful, bid some swain to lead
A well-fed bullock from the grassy mead;
One seek the harbour where the vessels moor,
And bring thy friends, Telemachus! ashore,
(Leave only two the gally to attend)
Another to Laerceus must we send,
Artist divine, whose skillful hands infold
The victim's horn with circumfusile gold.
The rest may here the pious duty share,
And bid the handmaids for the feast prepare,
The seats to range, the fragrant wood to bring,
And limpid waters from the living spring.

131

He said, and busy each his care bestow'd;
Already at the gates the bullock low'd,
Already came the Ithacensian crew,
The dextrous smith the tools already drew:
His pond'rous hammer, and his anvil sound,
And the strong tongs to turn the metal round.
Nor was Minerva absent from the rite,
She view'd her honours, and enjoy'd the sight.
With rev'rent hand the King presents the gold,
Which round th'intorted horns the gilder roll'd;
So wrought, as Pallas might with pride behold.

132

Young Aretus from forth his bridal bow'r
Brought the full laver, o'er their hands to pour,
And canisters of consecrated flour.
Stratius and Ethephron the victim led;
The axe was held by warlike Thrasymed,
In act to strike: Before him Perseus stood,
The vase extending to receive the blood.
The King himself initiates to the Pow'r;
Scatters with quiv'ring hand the sacred flour,
And the stream sprinkles: From the curling brows
The hair collected in the fire he throws.
Soon as due vows on ev'ry part were pay'd,
And sacred wheat upon the victim lay'd,
Strong Thrasymed discharg'd the speeding blow
Full on his neck, and cut the nerves in two.

133

Down sunk the heavy beast: the females round
Maids, wives, and matrons, mix a shrilling sound.
Nor scorn'd the Queen the holy choir to join,
(The first-born she, of old Clymenus' line;
In youth by Nestor lov'd, of spotless fame,
And lov'd in age, Eurydice her name)
From earth they rear him, struggling now with death;
And Nestor's Youngest stops the vents of breath.
The soul for ever flies: on all sides round
Streams the black blood, and smokes upon the ground.
The beast they then divide, and dis-unite
The ribs and limbs, observant of the rite:

134

On these, in double cawls involv'd with art,
The choicest morsels lay from ev'ry part.
The sacred Sage before his altar stands,
Turns the burnt-off'ring with his holy hands,
And pours the wine, and bids the flames aspire:
The youth with instruments surround the fire.
The thighs now sacrific'd, and entrails drest,
Th'assistants part, transfix, and broil the rest.
While these officious tend the rites divine,
The last fair branch of the Nestorean line
Sweet Polycaste, took the pleasing toil
To bathe the Prince, and pour the fragrant oil.

135

O'er his fair limbs a flow'ry vest he threw,
And issu'd, like a God, to mortal view.
His former seat beside the King he found,
(His people's Father with his peers around)
All plac'd at ease the holy banquet join,
And in the dazling goblet laughs the wine.
The rage of thirst and hunger now supprest,
The Monarch turns him to his royal guest;
And for the promis'd journey bids prepare
The smooth-hair'd horses, and the rapid car,
Observant of his word. The word scarce spoke,
The sons obey, and join them to the yoke.
Then bread and wine a ready handmaid brings,
And presents, such as suit the state of Kings.
The glitt'ring seat Telemachus ascends;
His faithful guide Pisistratus attends:

136

With hasty hand the ruling reins he drew:
He lash'd the coursers, and the coursers flew.
Beneath the bounding yoke alike they held
Their equal pace, and smoak'd along the field.
The tow'rs of Pylos sink, its views decay,
Fields after fields fly back, till close of day:
Then sunk the Sun, and darken'd all the way.
To Pheræ now, Diocleus' stately seat,
(Of Alpheus' race) the weary youths retreat.
His house affords the hospitable rite,
And pleas'd they sleep (the blessing of the night.)
But when Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
With rosy lustre purpled o'er the lawn;

137

Again they mount, their journey to renew,
And from the sounding portico they flew.
Along the waving fields their way they hold,
The fields receding as the chariot roll'd:
Then slowly sunk the ruddy globe of light,
And o'er the shaded landscape rush'd the night.
 

The scene is now remov'd from Ithaca to Pylos, and with it a new vein of Poetry is opened: Instead of the riots of the Suitors, we are entertain'd with the wisdom and piety of Nestor. This and the following book are a kind of Supplement to the Iliad; the nature of Epic Poetry requires that something should be left to the imagination of the Reader, nor is the picture to be entirely drawn at full length. Homer therefore, to satisfy our curiosity, gives an account of the fortunes of those great men, who made so noble a figure at the siege of Troy. This conduct also shews his art: Variety gives life and delight; and it is much more necessary in Epic than in Comic or Tragic Poetry sometimes to shift the Scenes, to diversify and embellish the story. But as on the stage the Poet ought not to step at once from one part of the world to a too remote country, (for this destroys credibility, and the auditor cannot fancy himself this minute here, and the next a thousand miles distant) so in Epic Poetry, every removal must be within the degrees of probability. We have here a very easy transition; the Poet carries his Heroe no further than he really might sail in the compass of time he allots for his voyage. If he had still dwelt upon the disorders of the Suitors without interruption, he must grow tiresome; but he artfully breaks the thread of their story with beautiful incidents and Episodes, and reserves the further recital of their disorders for the end of his Poem: By this method we sit down with fresh appetite to the entertainment, and rise at last not cloy'd, but satisfied.

The original calls Heaven πολυχαλκον, or brazen; the reason of it arises either from the Palaces of the Gods being built of brass by Vulcan; or rather the word implies no more than the Stability of Heaven, which for the same reason is in other places call'd σιδηρειον, or fram'd of iron. Eustathius.

It may be ask'd why the Poet is so very particular as to mention that the Pylians were divided into nine assemblies; and may it not seem a circumstance of no importance? Eustathius answers from the Antients, that there were nine cities subject to the power of Nestor: five in Pylos, the rest in Bœotia; the Poet therefore allots one Bank or Theatre to every city, which consisted of 500 men, the whole number amounting to 4500: These cities furnish'd the like complement of men to Nestor for the war at Troy: He sail'd in ninety vessels, and allowing fifty men to each vessel, they amount to that number. Hence it appears that this was a national sacrifice, every city furnish'd nine bulls, and by consequence the whole nation were partakers of it.

Tis was a very solemn sacrifice of the Pylians; How comes it then to pass, that Homer passes it over in one line? Eustathius answers, that the occasion disallows a longer description, and Homer knows when to speak, and when to be silent. He chuses to carry on the adventures of Telemachus, rather than amuse himself in descriptions that contribute nothing to the story; he finds a time of more leisure in the latter part of this book, and there he describes it at length.

They taste the entrails; that is, every person eat a small portion of the sacrifice, and by this method every person became partaker of it.

There is nothing in Homer that shews where this sacrifice was offer'd, whether in a Temple, or in the open air. But Eustathius tells us from Strabo, that it was in the Temple of Samian Neptune, εν ιερω Σαμιου ποσειδωνος.

This sentiment is truly noble, and as nobly expressed: the simplicity of the diction corresponds with that of the thought. Homer in many places testifies the utmost abhorrence of a Lye. This verse is twice repeated in the present book, as well as in some others; and nothing can be stronger in the same view than that of Achilles in the 9th Iliad,

Who dares think one thing, and another tell,
My heart detests him as the gates of hell.

There is some obscurity in the Greek expression, and the ancient Critics have made it more obscure by their false interpretations; they imagine that the Poet only meant to say that Telemachus was the legitimate son of Penelope and Ulysses.

Eustathius.

Dacier very justly condemns this explication, as unworthy of Homer; and gives us a more plain and natural interpretation: viz. “You were not born in despight of the Gods, that is, you are well made, and of a good presence, you have good inclinations, and in a word, your birth is happy.” She explains τραφεμεν after the same manner: “You were not educated in despight of “the Gods;” that is, “the Gods have blessed your education:” This explication seems to be just, and answers perfectly the design of Minerva; which was to give a decent assurance to Telemachus. You are a person, says the Goddess, of a good presence, and happy education, why then should you be ashamed to appear before Nestor?

It is with pleasure that I read such passages in an Author of so great antiquity, as are pictures of the simplicity of those heroic ages: It is the remark of Eustathius, that Pisistratus the son of a King does not seat these strangers upon purple Tapestry, or any other costly furniture, but upon the skins of beasts, that had nothing to recommend them but their softness; being spread upon the sand of the sea shores.

This whole passage pleases me extremely; there is a spirit of true Devotion, Morality and good Sense in it; and the decency of behaviour between Nestor and Telemachus is describ'd very happily: Nestor shews great benevolence to Telemachus; Telemachus great reverence to Nestor: the modesty of the one, and the humanity of the other, are worthy of our observation. We see the same picture of Nestor in the Odyssey that was drawn of him in the Iliads, with this only difference, that there he was a Counsellor of War, here he is painted in softer colours, ruling his people in peace, and diffusing a spirit of piety thro' his whole territories. He had now surviv'd the war of Troy almost ten years; and the Gods reward the old age of this wise and religious Prince with peace and happiness.

Since Minerva here mentions the name of Telemachus in her prayer; how comes it to pass, that Nestor is at a loss to know Telemachus? Minerva sat close by Nestor; he must therefore be suppos'd to hear the prayer; and yet in the following lines he enquires who these strangers are? We can scarce imagine Nestor ignorant that the son of Ulysses was named Telemachus, there being so strict a friendship between Nestor and Ulysses. Perhaps therefore Minerva pray'd in secret mentally; or perhaps Nestor might not take notice of what was not addrest immediately to him, and consequently make enquiry about it for the greater certainty.

If we form our images of persons and actions in ancient times, from the images of persons and actions in modern ages, we shall fall into great mistakes: Thus in the present passage, if we annex the same idea of Pyracy, as it was practis'd three thousand years past, to Pyracy as it is practis'd in our ages; what can be a greater affront than this enquiry of Nestor? But, says Eustathius, Pyracy was formerly not only accounted lawful, but honourable. I doubt not but Thucydides had this passage in view, when he says, that the ancient Poets introduce men enquiring of those who frequent the sea, if they be Pyrates, as a thing no way ignominious. Thucydides tells us in the same place, that all those who liv'd on the sea-coast, or in the Islands, maintain'd themselves by frequent inroads upon unfortify'd towns, and if such pyracies were nobly perform'd, they were accounted glorious. Herodotus also writes, that many of the ancients, especially about Thrace, thought it ignominious to live by labouring the ground, but to live by pyracy and plunder was esteem'd a life of honour. Eustathius.

Eustathius observes the modesty of Nestor: Telemachus had ascrib'd the fall of Troy in a great measure to Nestor; but Nestor speaks not in particular of himself, but is content with his share of glory in common with other warriors; he speaks in the plural number, and joins all the Greeks as in the war, so in the glory of it. Nestor mentions the sufferings of the Greeks by sea, as well as by land, during the siege of Troy: To understand this, it is necessary to remember, that the Greeks made many expeditions against other places during the war, both by sea and land, as appears from many passages in the Iliads, particularly from what Achilles says in the ninth book.

I have observ'd, that the Poet inserts into the Odyssey several incidents that happen'd after the fall of Troy, and by that method agreeably diversifies his Poetry, and satisfies the curiosity of the Reader. Eustathius remarks here, that he gives a title of honour to all the Heroes he mentions, except only to Achilles. Achilles had been the occasion of the sufferings and death of many of the Greeks by his anger, and obstinacy in refusing to obey Agamemnon; therefore while Nestor is lamenting the calamities of the Greeks, he passes over Achilles without any honourable mention, who had so greatly added to their sufferings. But I think this remark chimerical: one may as well say Achilles needed no Epithet to distinguish him.

It is with pleasure I see the old man dwell upon the praise of Antilochus: The father enlarges upon the fame of the son; he gives him four epithets of glory; and while Ajax is only praised as a warrior, Antilochus is great and good, excellent in the standing fight, or swift to pursue an enemy. Longinus has observ'd upon the beauty of this passage.

Nestor speaks of Ulysses as an inseparable friend; and it shews an excellent disposition in them both, to be rivals, and yet without envy. But the art of Nestor is remarkable, he first gives the character to Ulysses of being superior in wisdom to all the Greeks; and yet at last he finds a way secretly to set himself on a level with him, if not above him: We ever, says he, thought the same thoughts, and were ever of the same sentiments: which tho' it may imply that they were of equal wisdom; yet there is room left for it to signify, that Ulysses always assented to the wisdom of Nestor. Eust.

There is a remarkable difference between βουλη and αγορα. The former denotes a select number of men assembled in council; the latter a public assembly where all the people were present. Eustathius.

Nestor in modesty conceals the reason of the anger of the Goddess; out of respect to Ajax the Locrian who was then dead: The crime of Ajax was the violation of Cassandra even in the temple of Minerva before her image. But why should the Goddess be angry at others for the crime of Ajax? this is because they omitted to punish the offender. If Ajax was criminal in offending, others are criminal for not punishing the offence.

Eustathius.

The crime of Ajax is mention'd in Virgil. Æn. 1.

------ Pallasnè exurere classem
Argivum, atque ipsos potuit submergere ponto,
Unius ob noxam, & furias Ajacis Oilei? &c.
Could angry Pallas with revengeful spleen
The Grecian navy burn, and drown the men?
She for the fault of one offending foe,
The bolts of Jove himself presum'd to throw.
Dryd.

Virgil borrow'd the description of the punishment of Ajax from the fourth of the Odyssey.

It may seem at first view, that the Poet affirms the night to be an improper season to convene a Council. This is not his meaning; In the Iliad, there are several councils by night; nay εν νυκτι βουλη is used proverbially to express the best concerted councils. What therefore Nestor here condemns is the calling not a select, but public assembly of the soldiers in the night, when they are in no danger of an enemy, and when they are apt to fly into insolence thro' wine, and the joy of victory. The night is then undoubtedly an ill chosen season: because the licence of the soldier cannot be so well restrain'd by night as by day. Eustathius.

It may be ask'd why Nestor condemns so solemnly this Heroe, calling him Νηπιος, when he describes him in so pious an action? this is not because the Gods are implacable, for as Homer himself writes, Στρεπτοι δε και θεοι αυτοι; but because he vainly imagin'd that they would so soon be appeas'd, without any justice done upon the offender: Θεον ραδιως παλιντροπον are the words of Eustathius.

It is with great address that Nestor relates the return of Ulysses to Agamemnon; he ascribes it not directly to Ulysses, but to his associates in the voyage; he mollifies it, in complaisance to Telemachus. But Nestor, according to Dacier, conceals the true reason of his return; it was not to please Agamemnon, but out of fear of the Goddess Minerva, whose statue he had taken by force from Troy: to appease that Goddess, he returns to join in sacrifice with Agamemnon. Eustathius.

It may be ask'd how Nestor attain'd this knowledge of the evils which the Gods were preparing? Eustathius ascribes it to his great Wisdom, which gave him an insight into futurity. Dacier with more reason tells us, that Nestor knew that Minerva had been offended, and might consequently apprehend a punishment was to be inflicted for the offence.

Eustathius observes from the Antients, that the Poet with great judgment suspends, and breaks off this relation of Nestor; by this method he has an opportunity to carry Telemachus to other countries, and insert into his Poem the story of Menelaus and Helen: This method likewise gives an air of probability to what he writes; the Poet seems afraid to deceive, and when he sends Telemachus to other parts for better intelligence, he seems to consult truth and exactness.

The son of Achilles was nam'd Neoptolemus, by others Pyrrhus; his story is this: When he had reach'd Thessaly with the Myrmidons of Achilles, by the advice of Thetis he set fire to his vessels; and being warn'd by Helenus, from the oracles, to fix his habitation where he found a house whose foundations were iron, whose walls were wood, and whose roof was wool; he took his journey on foot, and coming to a certain lake of Epirus, he found some persons fixing their spears with the points downwards into the earth, and covering the tops of them with their cloaks, and after this manner making their tents: he look'd upon the Oracle as fulfill'd, and dwelt there. Afterwards having a son by Andromache the wife of Hector, he nam'd him Molossus, from whom the region took the name of Molossia. From this country are the Molossi canes, mention'd by Virgil. Eustathius.

Nestor introduces the mention of Ægysthus very artfully; it is to raise an emulation in Telemachus to revenge Ulysses, as Orestes had Agamemnon; it has the intended effect, and we find that Telemachus dwells upon his story with a virtuous envy; yet at the same time with great modesty: Eustathius gives a different reading in

------ εσσομενοισι πυθεσθαι,

or,

------ εσσομενοισιν αοιδην.

both the expressions are used in Homer, the preference is therefore submitted to the Reader.

The words in the original are, following the voice of some God, that is, some Oracle: Homer does not confine the expression either to a good or bad sense, but the context plainly shews, that they must be understood in a bad sense; namely to imply, that the people had recourse to pretended Oracles to justify their rebellion. This is evident from what follows, where Nestor encourages Telemachus to expect that Ulysses may punish them for their crimes, αποτισεται ελθων— if there had been no crime, there ought to be no punishment.

The Poet shews his great judgment in preparing the Reader for the destruction of the Suitors: that great Catastrophe is manag'd by few hands, and it might seem incredible that so few could destroy so many: the Poet therefore, to give an air of truth to his action, frequently inculcates the assistance of Pallas, which must at least shew, that such a great exploit is not impossible to be executed by stratagems and valour: It is by art, not strength, that Ulysses conquers.

All Greece in arms.

This is spoken in a general sense, and comprehends not only the subjects of Ulysses, or even the Pylians and Spartans, but implies that all the Greeks would rise in the cause of Ulysses. What the Suitors had spoken scoffingly in the preceding book, viz. that Telemachus was sailing to Pyle or Sparta for supplies, appears in this not to be impracticable; so that it was choice and not necessity that determin'd the Poet to make use of no such easy expedients for the destruction of the Suitors.

Eustathius

It may be added, that the very nature of Epic Poetry, and of the Odyssey in particular, requires such a conduct: In the Iliad Achilles is the chief agent, and performs almost all the great actions; Æneas is painted after the same manner by Virgil; the one kills Hector, the other Turnus, both which are the decisive actions: It was equally necessary to exalt the character of Ulysses, by bringing him into difficulties from which he is personally to extricate himself: This the Poet sufficiently brings about by refusing all the easy methods for his re-establishment, because the more difficult ways are most conducive to the honour of his Heroe: Thus as Achilles and Æneas kill Hector and Turnus with their own hands, so the Suitors fall chiefly by the hand of Ulysses. It is necessary for the Heroe of the Poem to execute the decisive action, for by this method the Poet compleats his character, his own greatness surmounts all difficulties, and he goes off the stage with the utmost advantage, by leaving a noble character upon the mind of the spectators.

It may be ask'd how an expression so near blasphemy, as Eustathius observes, could escape a person of such piety as Telemachus? 'Tis true, the Poet makes Minerva herself correct it; but yet the objection remains, viz. how could Telemachus speak it? I think since the Poet himself condemns it, we may give it up as an indecency in Telemachus; it is natural for men in despair (and that was the condition of Telemachus) to use a vehemence of expression, and this might transport Telemachus beyond the bounds of prudence. The only possible way that occurs to me to take off the impiety, is to have recourse to Destiny: It was the opinion of the Ancients, that the Gods could not alter Destiny: and then Telemachus may mean no more, than that it was decreed by the Destinies that Ulysses shall return no more, so the Gods themselves could not restore him.

Thus in the 15th of the Metamorphosis, Venus in vain applies to the Gods to preserve Julius Cæsar.

------ Superosque movet, qui rumpere quanquam
Ferrea non possunt veterum decreta sororum, &c

And a little lower Jupiter says to Venus,

------ Sola insuperabile fatam,
Nata, movere paras?

Nothing can be better imagin'd to encourage Telemachus, than what the Poet here delivers: She sets Agamemnon in opposition to Ulysses: Agamemnon made a speedy voyage to his country, and there fell by treachery; Ulysses has long been absent, but yet is happier than Agamemnon: the Gods perhaps reserve him for better fortunes, at least nothing can be concluded from his long absence, and this is sufficient to teach Telemachus not to despair. Eustathius.

What Minerva here says justifies the remark I made, that what Telemachus seem'd to have spoken rashly, may be soften'd, if not vindicated, by having recourse to Destiny: It is evident from this passage, that Destiny was superior to the power of the Gods; otherwise Minerva speaks as blasphemously as Telemachus: For what difference is there between saying, that the Gods cannot preserve even these they love from death, and saying that the Gods could not save Ulysses? Why therefore may not the words of Telemachus be thought to have a respect to Destiny?

I am of opinion, that the Poet had something further in view by putting these words into the mouth of Minerva: The words of Telemachus, if taken grossly, might appear shocking to so pious a person as Nestor, and make an ill impression upon him to the disadvantage of Telemachus; Minerva therefore artfully explains it, and softens the horrour of it by reconciling it to the Theology of those ages.

Telemachus here puts several questions, as it were in a breath, to Nestor: and Platarch observes upon this passage, that he who enquires any thing of an old man, tho' the old man himself has no concern in the story, wins his heart at once; and incites a person, who is upon all occasions very willing to discourse. He introduces this as an instance of the art Telemachus uses, in adapting himself by his questions to the temper of the person with whom he converses: He puts together, continues he, several questions upon several subjects, which is more judicious than to confine his answer to a single interrogatory, and by that method deprive Nestor of one of the most pleasant enjoyments of old age, I mean the pleasure of talking. Plutarch. Symposiac.

The Poet here tells us that Nestor was now in his fourth generation: Ovid took the word γενεα to signify an hundred years; but then Nestor must have been above three hundred years old. Others with more probability understand it to signify a generation, or such a portion of time in which any race of men flourish together, which is computed to be about thirty years. I refer the Reader to the Note upon the 33d verse in the first book of the Iliad, for the particular age of Nestor. According to that computation, he must now be about ninety five years of age.

Telemachus does not ask this question out of curiosity, but with great judgment; he knows there were designs against his life, as well as there had been against Agamemnon; he therefore asks it, that he may learn how to defeat them; chiefly to instruct himself how best to assist his father upon his return, by aiding him in escaping the snares of the Suitors. Dacier.

Homer thro' the whole Odyssey speaks much in honour of the Art which he himself loved, and in which he so eminently excell'd: From these and other passages we may learn the state of Poetry in those ages: “Poets (says Eustathius) were rank'd in the class of Philosophers; and the Ancients made use of them as Præceptors in Music and Morality.” Strabo quotes this very passage as an instance of the excellence of Poetry in forming the soul to worthy actions: Ægysthus could not debauch Clytemnestra, 'till he banish'd the Poet, who was her guide and instructor.

Various are the conjectures of the Ancients about the name of the Bard here celebrated: Some, says Eustathius, tell us, it was Chariades, some Demodocus, some Glaucus, &c. but I pass them over, because they are conjectures.

There were many degrees of these αοιδοι; some were αοιδοι θρηνων, others αοιδοι περι γαμους: But such Bards as are here mention'd were of an higher station, and retain'd as instructors by Kings and Princes.

I cannot omit one remark of Eustathius: he tells us, that some persons write that these αοιδοι had their names from hence, ως αιδοια μη εχοντες; exactly resembling the modern Italian singers: Madam Dacier is not to be forgiven for passing over a remark of such importance; If this be true, it makes a great difference between the ancient and modern Poets, and is the only advantage I know we have over them.

There is a fine moral couch'd in the story of the Bard and Clytemnestra; it admirably paints the advantage we draw from wise companions for the improvement of our Virtues: Clytemnestra was chaste because her instructor was wise: His wisdom was an insuperable guard to her modesty. It was long before she yielded; virtue and honour had a long contest: but she no sooner yielded to adultery, but she assisted in the murder of her husband; from whence we may draw another moral, that one vice betrays us into another; and when once the fences of honour are thrown down, we become a prey to every passion. Dacier.

Here is a surprizing mixture of religion and impiety: Ægysthus, upon the accomplishment of so great a crime as adultery, returns thanks to the Gods by oblations, as if they had assisted him in the execution of it. Nestor dwells upon it at large, to shew that Ægysthus greatly aggravated his guilt by such a piece of impious devotion. Dacier.

Homer calls the darts of Apollo αγανα, or gentle; to signify that those who dye thus suddenly, die without pain.

Eustathius.

Dacier complains that some Critics think Homer worthy of blame for enlarging upon so mean a person as a pilot. It is a sufficient answer to observe, that arts were in high esteem in those times, and men that were eminent in them were in great honour. Neither were arts then confin'd as in these ages to mean personages: no less a person than Ulysses builds a vessel in the sequel of the Odyssey; so that this is a false piece of delicacy. If Homer be culpable, so is Virgil; he gives the genealogy of Palinurus, as well as Homer of Phrontes. Virgil's description is censur'd as too long, Homer concludes his in seven lines; and lastly, Virgil's Episode has been judg'd by the Critics to be an unnecessary ornament, and to contribute nothing to the Poem: Homer relates the death of Phrontis, to introduce the dispersion of the fleet of Menelaus; the fleet might well be scatter'd, when it wanted so excellent a pilot.

Homer does not amuse us by relating what became of these companions of Menelaus; he omits this judiciously, and follows the thread of his story: Menelaus is the person whom the Poet has in view; he therefore passes over the story of his companions, to carry on the fable of the Poem by leading us directly to Menelaus.

In the original it is, The wind and water carry'd them to Ægyptus. Homer by Ægyptus means the river Nile, and then it is always used in the masculine gender; the region about it took its name from the river Ægyptus, this is always used in the feminine gender; but the country had not receiv'd that name in the days of Homer.

Eustathius.

What Dacier adds to this observation, may assist in determining the dispute concerning the priority of Homer and Hesiod: Hesiod makes mention of the river Nilus; if therefore it be true that Ægyptus had not been called by the name of Nilus in the times of Homer, it is a demonstration that Hesiod was posterior to Homer; otherwise he could not have been acquainted with any other name but that of Ægyptus.

There is a different reading in this place: instead of απ' Αθηναων, some write απο Φωκηων; for Orestes was educated by Strophius King of Phocis, and father of Pylades: The Ancients reconcile the difference, by saying that Orestes might be sent from Phocis to Athens for his education, and returning thence to his own country, might revenge the death of his father Agamemnon; so that although he was first bred up in Phocis, he was afterwards a sojourner in Athens. Eustathius.

It must be confest, that Nestor greatly exaggerates this description: Homer himself tells us, that a ship may sail in five days from Crete to Ægypt; wherefore then this Hyperbole of Nestor? It might perhaps be to deter Telemachus from a design of sailing to Crete, and he through his inexperience might believe the description. It may be added, that what Nestor speaks concerning the flight of birds, may be only said to shew the great distance of that sea: Nay, by a favourable interpretation it may be reconcil'd to truth; the meaning then must be this: Should a person observe that sea a whole year, he would not see one bird flying over it, both because of the vastness and dreadfulness of it; and perhaps the whole of this might arise from the observation, that this sea is not frequented by birds. This is wholly and almost literally taken from Eustathius; and if we add to this the ignorance of the sea and sea-affairs in those ages, we shall the less wonder to hear so wise a man as Nestor describing it with so much terror; Navigation is now greatly improv'd, and the Moderns sail further in a month, than the Ancients could in a year; their whole art consisting chiefly in coasting along the shores, and consequently they made but little way.

Various are the reasons which Eustathius reports concerning this oblation of the tongues at the conclusion of the sacrifice. It was to purge themselves from any evil words they might have utter'd; or because the tongue was reckon'd the best part of the sacrifice, and so reserv'd for the completion of it; or they offer'd the tongue to the Gods, as witnesses to what they had spoken. I omit the rest as superfluous. They had a custom of offering the tongues to Mercury, because they believed him the giver of Eloquence. Dacier expatiates upon this custom. The people, says she, might fear, lest thro' wine and the joy of the festival they might have utter'd some words unbecoming the sanctity of the occasion: by this sacrifice of the tongues, they signify'd that they purged away whatever they had spoken amiss during the festival; and ask'd in particular pardon of Mercury, who presided over discourse, to the end they might not carry home any uncleanness which might stop the blessings expected from the sacrifice.

Eustathius shews the difference between εορται, festivals, and θυσιαι, or sacrifices: in the former it was customary to spend the whole night in wine and rejoicing: In the latter, this was reckon'd an unlawful custom, thro' the fear of falling into any indecencies thro' wine. He likewise gives another reason of this injunction, by telling us that it was the custom to offer sacrifices to the celestial Powers in the day, and even to finish them about the setting of the sun; and that those who dealt in incantations perform'd their sacrifices to the infernal powers by night, and finish'd them before sun-rising. Either of these reasons sufficiently explains the words of the Goddess; and the former carries in it an excellent moral, that particular care should be taken in our acts of devotion, not to turn religion into impiety.

This passage gives us a full insight into the manners of these hospitable ages; they not only kept a treasury for bowls or vases of gold or silver, to give as ξεινηια, or gifts of hospitality, but also a wardrobe of various habits and rich furniture, to lodge and bestow upon strangers. Eustathius relates, that Tellias of Agrigentum was a person of so great hospitality, that five hundred horsemen coming to his house in the winter season, he entertain'd them, and gave every man a cloak and a tunic. This laudable custom prevailed, and still prevails, in the eastern countries: it was the practice of Abraham of old, and is at this day of the Turks, as we may learn from their Caravansaries, erected for the reception of travellers. And yet Dacier observes, that a French Critic has shew'd so ill a taste as to ridicule this passage. “Telemachus (says that Author) being entertain'd by Nestor, intimates his intention of returning to lodge on ship-board with his companions: but Nestor detains him, by asking if he thought he had not quilts or coverlets to give him a Night's lodging; Upon this Telemachus goes to bed in a resounding gallery, and Nestor in a bed which his wife made ready for him.” The noblest things are most liable to burlesque, by perverting their meaning; as some pictures, by varying the position, represent a man or a monster. He is very severe upon the resounding gallery, which in truth means no more than very lofty or elevated, and by consequence very noble and magnificent.

The Poet makes a double use of these words of the Goddess; she gives an air of probability to her excuse, why she should not be press'd to stay; and at the same time Homer avoids the absurdity of introducing that Goddess at Sparta, Menelaus and Helen are celebrating the nuptials of their son and daughter: Minerva is a Virgin Deity, and consequently an enemy to all nuptial ceremonies.

Eustathius.

But it may be necessary to observe who these Caucons are: we find in the tenth book the Caucons mention'd as auxiliaries to Troy: There Dolon says

The Carians, Caucons, the Pelasgian host,
And Leleges encamp along the coast.

Are these Caucons the same with those here mention'd? Eustathius informs us, that there was a people of Triphyly, between Elis and Pylos, named Caucons: But Strabo says, that the whole race is now extinct, and that these here mention'd are of Dymæa, and take their name from the river Caucon: whereas those in the Iliad are Paphlagonians: they were a wandring nation, and consequently might be the same people originally, and retain the same name in different countries.

It may be ask'd why Nestor is in such a surprize at the discovery of the Goddess: It is evident from the Iliad, that he had been no stranger to such intercourses of the Deities; nay, in this very book Nestor tells us, that Ulysses enjoy'd almost the constant presence of Minerva; insomuch that Sophocles, the great imitator of Homer, relates, that he knew the Goddess by her voice, without seeing her. Eustathius answers, that the wonder of Nestor arose not from the discovery of that Deity, but that she should accompany so young a person as Telemachus: After her departure, the old man stood amaz'd, and look'd upon that Heroe as some very extraordinary person, whom in such early years the Goddess of War and Wisdom had vouchsafed to attend. This interpretation agrees perfectly with what Nestor speaks to Telemachus.

I will take this opportunity to obviate an objection that may be made against all interposition of the Gods in assisting the Heroes of the Odyssey: It has been thought by some Critics a disparagement to them to stand in continual need of such supernatural succour: If two persons were engaged in combat, and a third person should immediately step in to the assistance of one of the parties, and kill the adversary, would it not reflect upon the valour of his friend who was so weak as to want such assistance? Why, for instance, should Jupiter help Æneas to kill Turnus? Was not he brave enough to fight, and strong enough to conquer his enemy by his own prowess? and would not Turnus have kill'd Æneas with the same assistance? It is therefore a disparagement to the actors, thus continually to supply the defects of a Heroe, by the power of a Deity.

But this is a false way of arguing, and from hence it might be inferr'd, that the love and favour of a Deity serves only to make those whom he assists, and those who depend upon such assistance, appear weak, impotent, cowardly, and unworthy to be conquerors. Can any doubt arise whether the love and favour of a God be a disparagement or honour to those whom he favours? According to these Critics, we should find the character of a perfect Heroe in an impious Mezentius, who acknowledges no God but his own arm and his own sword: 'Tis true, the objection would be just, if the Heroe himself perform'd nothing of the action; or if when he were almost conquer'd by the superior valour of his enemy, he ow'd his life and victory to Gods and Miracles: But the Heroe always behaves himself in all his actions, as if he were to gain success without the assistance of the Deity; and the presence of the Gods is so order'd, that we may retrench every thing that is miraculous, without making any alteration in the action or character of the human personages. Thus in the instance of Æneas and Turnus, tho' Jupiter favours Æneas, yet Æneas is painted in stronger colours of fortitude, he appears superior, as a man unassisted, and able to conquer Turnus; and consequently the favour of Jupiter makes no alteration in the action or character of Æneas.

There is likewise a wide difference between the assistance of a Man, and of a God: The actions of men belong only to the performers of those actions; but when a Deity assists us by inspiring us with strength and courage, the actions we perform are really our own, and the more he favours us, the more glory he gives us: so that the assistance of man eclipses, but the assistance of a God exalts, our glory. Thus, for instance, when Achilles is pursuing Hector, he charges the Greeks to keep off from Hector; their assistance might lessen his glory: but when Pallas offers her assistance, he immediately embraces it as an Honour, and boasts of it as such to Hector. I have been large upon this objection, because the Reader ought to carry it in his memory thro' the whole Poem, and apply it to every action, in which any share is ascribed to any Deity. See Bossu more at large concerning this objection.

We have here an ancient custom recorded by the Poet; a King places himself before the gate of his Palace upon a seat of marble, worn smooth by long use, says Eustathius, or perhaps smooth'd exquisitely by the hand of the workman. What I would chiefly observe is, that they placed themselves thus in public for the dispatch of justice: We read in the scripture of Judges sitting in the gate; and that this procedure of Nestor was for that purpose is probable from the expression, He sat in the seat where Neleus [μηστωρ, or Consiliarius,] used to sit, (which seems to express his wisdom in the discharge of justice.) Nestor is also describ'd as bearing his sceptre in his hand, which was never used but upon some act of regality, in the dispatch of justice, or other solemn occasions. Perhaps, says Dacier, these seats or thrones might be consecrated with oil, to draw a reverence to the seats of Justice as by an act of religion; but I rather judge (adds she) that no more is meant than to express the shining of these thrones, they being undoubtedly made of marble.

Would I indulge my fancy in a conjecture, I might suppose that the famous tyrant Pisistratus was descended, or borrow'd his name from this son of Nestor. Herodotus informs us, as Eustathius observes, that all the Pisistrati were originally Pylians. If this be true, we have a very strong evidence that Homer is not all fiction, but that he celebrates the great men of those ages with reality, and only embellishes the true story with the ornaments of Poetry.

The Author of the Parallel quotes this passage to prove that Homer was ignorant of the Mechanic arts: We have here, says he, a Gilder with his anvil and hammer; but what occasion has he for an anvil and hammer in the art of a Gilder? Boileau has excellently vindicated Homer from this objection, in his reflections upon Longinus; This Gilder was a Gold-beater: Nestor, we see, furnish'd the gold, end he beat it into leaves, so that he had occasion to make use of his anvil and hammer; the anvil was portable, because the work was not laborious. Our modern travellers assure us, that it is at this day the practice in the eastern regions, as in Persia, &c. for the artists in metals to carry about with them the whole implements of trade, to the house of the persons where they find employment; it is therefore a full vindication of Homer, to observe that the gold this artist used in gilding, was nothing but-gold beat into fine leaves.

It may be ask'd in what sense Minerva can be said to come to the sacrifice? Eustathius answers, that the Ancients finding the inclinations of men to be bent incontinently upon pleasures, to oblige them to use them moderately, distinguish'd times, ordain'd sacrifices, and representing the Gods in the forms of men, brought them to use those pleasures with discretion; they taught them that the Gods came down to their libations and sacrifices, to induce them to govern their conversation with reverence and modesty: Thus Jupiter and the other Gods in the Iliads, and Neptune in the Odyssey, are said to feast with the Æthiopians.

If I might be pardon'd a conjecture, I would suppose, that Minerva may in another sense be said to come to the sacrifice; I mean by her image or statue: and what may seem to confirm this opinion, is what Diodorus relates in his third book concerning the above-mention'd Æthiopians; they carry'd about the statues of Jupiter and the other Gods twelve days, during which time the Gods were said to be gone to the Æthiopians: and if the Gods may be said to come to the Æthiopians by their statues: why may not the same be said of Minerva, from the introduction of her statue among the Pylians? So that the appearance of the Goddess may possibly mean the appearance of her statue.

Nestor here makes use only of the ministry of his sons; the reason of it is, because it was reckon'd honourable to serve in the performance of sacrifice, this being in some sense an attending upon the Gods: or because it was the practice of those ages for great persons to do those offices with their own hands, which in the latter have been perform'd by servants.

Eustathius reports a saying of Antigonus, who observing his son behaving himself imperiously to his subjects, “Know'st thou not, “says he, that Royalty itself is but illustrious servitude!” an intimation that he himself was but a servant of the public, and therefore should use his servants with moderation.

But the true reason of Nestor's assisting in the sacrifice is, because Kings anciently had the inspection of religion, and Priesthood was join'd to Royalty, according to that of Virgil,

Rex Anins, rex idem hominum Phœbique sacerdos.

I have kept the meaning of the word in the original, which signifies prayers made with loud cries, ολολυξαν. ολολυγη, says Hesychius, is, φωνη γυναικων ην ποιουνται εν τοις ιεροις ευχομεναι, the voice of women, which they make at sacrifices in their prayers. But there is still something in it more to the present purpose; the Scholiast upon Æschylus remarks, that this word is not used properly but when apply'd to the prayers offer'd to Minerva; for Minerva is the only Goddess to whom prayers are made with loud cries, she being the Goddess of War; to other Deities they offer prayer with thanksgiving; και γαρ μονη τη Αθηνα δαιμονι ουση πολεμικη ολολυζουσι, τοις δ' αλλοις Θεοις παιωνιζουσι.

Thus also in the sixth book of the Iliads, verse 301.

Αι δ' ολολυγη πασαι Αθηνη χειρας ανεσχον.
They fill the dome with supplicating cries.

And in the present passage in the Odyssey,

------ αι δ' ολολυξαν
Θυγατερες τε, νυοι τε, &c.
Dacier.

It is very necessary to say something about this practice of women bathing and anointing men; it frequently occurs thro' the whole Odyssey, and is so contrary to the usage of the moderns, as to give offence to modesty; neither is this done by women of inferior quality, but we have here a young Princess, bathing, anointing, and cloathing the naked Telemachus. Eustathius indeed tells us, it was undoubtedly by her father's command: but if it was a piece of immodesty, it does not solve the objection, whoever commanded it. I confess it would be immodest in these ages of the world, and the only excuse that occurs to me is, to say that Custom establish'd it. It is in manners, in some degree, as in dress; if a fashion never so indecent prevails, yet no person is ridiculous, because it is fashionable: so in manners, if a practice prevails universally, tho' not reconcilable to real modesty, yet no person can be said to be immodest who comes into it, because it is agreeable to the custom of the times and countries.

I shall lay together what I have further to observe on the conclusion of this book: It is remarkable, that the Poet does not amuse himself in describing the present he receiv'd from Nestor, or the provisions for the journey, or even the journey it self at large; he dispatches the whole in a few lines very judiciously; he carries his Heroe directly to Menelaus, who is to furnish many incidents that contribute to the design of the Poem, and passes over other matters as unnecessary.

We have here likewise a piece of poetical Geography, and learn that it is exactly two days journey from Pyle to Lacedæmon.

This book takes up three days; the first is spent in the enquiries Telemachus makes of Nestor concerning Ulysses; the two last in the morning sacrifice at Pylos, and in the journey of Telemachus to Lacedæmon; so that five days have now pass'd since the opening of the Poem. I have said nothing about the sacrifice, tho' it be the most exact description of the sacrifices as practis'd by the Ancients, perhaps extant in any Author; I refer to the observations upon the first book of the Iliad.

I would here remark that the three first books are written with the utmost simplicity, there has been no room for such exalted strokes of Poetry as are to be found in the Iliad, or in the future parts of the Odyssey: But this is not owing to the decay of genius in Homer, as some Critics have affirm'd, (who look upon the Odyssey as bearing marks of his declining years,) but to the nature of the subject. The characters of Achilles and Ulysses are both very great, but very different. The Iliad consists of battles, and a continual commotion; the Odyssey in Patience and Wisdom: and consequently the style of the two Poems must be as different as the characters of the two Heroes. A noble fountain of Poetry opens in the next book, and flows with an uninterrupted course almost thro' the whole Odyssey.