University of Virginia Library

Ulysses makes his first entry in this book. It may be ask'd where properly is the beginning of the Action? It is not necessary that the beginning of the Action should be the beginning of the Poem; there is a natural and an artificial order, and Homer makes use of the latter. The Action of the Odyssey properly begins neither with the Poem, nor with the appearance of Ulysses here, but with the relation he makes of his departure from Troy in the ninth book. Bossu has very judiciously remark'd, that in the constitution of the fable, the Poet ought not to make the Departure of a Prince from his own country the foundation of his Poem, but his Return, and his stay in other places involuntary. For if the stay of Ulysses had been voluntary, he would have been guilty in some degree of all the disorders that happen'd during his absence. Thus in this book Ulysses first appears in a desolate Island, sitting in tears by the side of the Ocean, and looking upon it as the obstacle to his return.

This artificial order is of great use, it cuts off all languishing and un-entertaining incidents, and passes over those intervals of time that are void of action; it gives continuity to the story, and at first transports the Reader into the middle of the subject. In the beginning of the Odyssey, the Gods command Mercury to go down to the Island of Ogygia, and charge Calypso to dismiss Ulysses: one would think the Poem was to end in the compass of a few lines, the Poet beginning the action so near the end of the story; and we wonder how he finds matter to fill up his Poem, in the little space of time that intervenes between his first appearance and his re-establishment.

This book, as well as the first, opens with an Assembly of the Gods. This is done to give an importance to his Poem, and to prepare the mind of the Reader to expect every thing that is great and noble, when Heaven is engag'd in the care and protection of his Heroes. Both these Assemblies are placed very properly, so as not to interrupt the series of action: The first assembly of the Gods is only preparatory to introduce the action; and the second is no more than a bare transition from Telemachus to Ulysses; from the recital of the transactions in Ithaca, to what more immediately regards the person of Ulysses.

In the former council, both the Voyage of Telemachus and the Return of Ulysses were determin'd at the same time: The day of that assembly is the first day both of the principal action, which is the return of Ulysses) and of the incident, which is the voyage of Telemachus; with this difference, that the incident was immediately put in practice, by the descent of Minerva to Ithaca; and the execution of it takes up the four preceding books; whereas the principal action was only then prepared, and the execution deferr'd to the present book, where Mercury is actually sent to Calypso.

Eustathius therefore judges rightly when he says, that, in the first council, the safety alone of Ulysses was propos'd; but the means how to bring it about are here under consultation, which makes the necessity of the second council.

This passage is intricate: Why should Jupiter command Ulysses to return without the guidance either of man or God? Ulysses had been just declar'd the care of Heaven, why should he be thus suddenly abandon'd? Eustathius answers, that it is spoken solely with respect to the voyage which he immediately undertakes. This indeed shews a reason why this command is given; if he had been under the guidance of a God, the shipwreck (that great incident which brings about the whole Catastrophe of the Poem) must have been prevented by his power; and as for men, where were they to be procur'd in a desolate island? What confirms this opinion is, that during the whole shipwreck of Ulysses, there is no interposition of a Deity, nor even of Pallas, who used to be his constant guardian; the reason is, because this command of Jupiter forbids all assistance to Ulysses: Leucothea indeed assists him, but it is not till he is shipwreck'd. It appears further, that this interdiction respects only the voyage from Ogygia, because Jupiter orders that there shall be no assistance from man, ουτε θεων πομπη, ουτ' ανθρωπων; but Ulysses is transported from Phæacia to Ithaca, ανθρωπων πομπη, or by the assistance of the Phæacians, as Eustathius observes; and therefore what Jupiter here speaks has relation only to the present voyage. Dacier understands this to be meant of any visible assistance only: but this seems a collusion; for whether the Gods assist visibly or invisibly, the effects are the same; and a Deity unseen might have preserv'd Ulysses from storms, and directly guided him to his own country. But it was necessary for the design of Homer, that Ulysses should not sail directly home; if he had, there had been no room for the relation of his own adventures, and all those surprizing narrations he makes to the Phæacians: Homer therefore to bring about the shipwreck of Ulysses, withdraws the Gods.

The word in the original is σχεδιης; νηος, as Eustathius observes, is understood: It signifies, continues he, a small vessel made of one entire piece of wood, or a vessel about which little wood is used; it is deriv'd from σχεδον, from being αυτοσχεδιως συμπεπηχθαι, or its being compacted together with ease. Hesychius defines σχεδια to be, μικρα ναυς η ξυλα α συνδεουσι, και ουτω πλεουσι: that is, a small bark, or float of wood which sailors bind together, and immediately use in navigation. This observation appear'd to me very necessary, to take off an objection made upon a following passage in this book: the Critics have thought it incredible that Ulysses should without any assistance build such a vessel, as Homer describes; but if we remember what kind of a vessel it is, it may be reconcil'd to probability.

The Phæacians were the inhabitants of Scheria, sometimes call'd Drepanè, afterwards Corcyra, now Corfu, in the possession of the Venetians. But it may be ask'd in what these people resemble the Gods? they are describ'd as a most effeminate nation: whence then this God-like Quality? Eustathius answers, that is either from their undisturb'd felicity, or from their divine quality of general benevolence: he prefers the latter; but from the general character of the Phæacians, I should prefer the former. Homer frequently describes the Gods as αει ρεια ζωοντες, the Gods that live in endless ease: This is suitable to the Phæacians, as will appear more fully in the sequel of the Odyssey. Eustathius remarks, that the Poet here gives us in a few lines the heads of the eight succeeding books; and sure nothing can be a greater instance of Homer's art, than his building so noble an edifice upon so small a foundation: The plan is simple and unadorn'd, but he embellishes it with all the beauties in nature.

This is a noble description of Mercury; the verses are lofty and sonorous. Virgil has inserted them in his Æneis, lib. 4. 240.

What is here said of the rod of Mercury, is, as Eustathius observes, an Allegory: It is intended to shew the force of eloquence, which has a power to calm, or excite, to raise a passion, or compose it: Mercury is the God of Eloquence, and he may very properly be said θελγειν, και αγειρειν, to cool or inflame the passions, according to the allegorical sense of these expressions.

Eustathius remarks, that this is a very just allusion; had the Poet compar'd Mercury to an Eagle, tho' the comparison had been more noble, yet it had been less proper; a sea-fowl most properly represents the passage of a Deity over the seas; the comparison being adapted to the element.

Some ancient Critics mark'd the last verse τω ικελος, &c. with an Obelisk, a sign that it ought to be rejected: They thought that the word οχησατο did not sufficiently express the swiftness of the flight of Mercury; the word implies no more than he was carry'd: But this expression is applicable to any degree of swiftness; for where is the impropriety, if we say, Mercury was borne along the seas with the utmost rapidity? The word is most properly apply'd to a chariot, επι οχου, ο εστιν αρματος.

Homer here introduces an Episode of Calypso: and as every Incident ought to have some relation to the main design of the Poem, it may be ask'd what relation this bears to the other parts of it? A very essential one: The sufferings of Ulysses are the subject of the Odyssey; here we find him inclos'd in an Island: all his calamities arise from his absence from his own country: Calypso then who detains him is the cause of all his calamities. It is with great judgment that the Poet feigns him to be restrain'd by a Deity, rather than a mortal. It might have appear'd somewhat derogatory from the prudence and courage of Ulysses, not to have been able by art or strength to have freed himself from the power of a mortal: but by this conduct the Poet at once excuses his Heroe, and aggravates his misfortunes: he is detain'd involuntarily, but it is a Goddess who detains him, and it is no disgrace for a man not to be able to over-power a Deity.

Bossu observes, that the art of Disguise is part of the character of Ulysses: Now this is imply'd in the name of Calypso, which signifies concealment, or secret. The Poet makes his Heroe stay seven whole years with this Goddess; she taught him so well, that he afterwards lost no opportunities of putting her instructions in practice, and does nothing without disguise.

Virgil has borrow'd part of his description of Circe in the 7th book of the Æneis, from this of Calypso.

What I have here said shews likewise the necessity of this machine of Mercury: It is an establish'd rule of Horace,

Calypso was a Goddess, and consequently all human means were insufficient to deliver Ulysses. There was therefore a necessity to have recourse to the Gods.

It is impossible for a Painter to draw a more admirable rural Landskip: The bower of Calypso is the principal figure, surrounded with a shade of different trees: Green meadows adorn'd with flowers, beautiful fountains, and vines loaded with clusters of grapes, and birds hovering in the air, are seen in the liveliest colours in Homer's Poetry. But whoever observes the particular trees, plants, birds, &c. will find another beauty of propriety in this description, every part being adapted, and the whole scene drawn, agreeable to a country situate by the sea.

Eustathius endeavours to fix the season of the year when Ulysses departed from that Island; he concludes it to be in the latter end of Autumn, or the beginning of Winter; for Calypso is describ'd as making use of a fire, so is Arete in the sixth book, and Eumæus and Ulysses in other parts of the Odyssey. This gives us reason to conclude, that the Summer heats were past; and what makes it still more probable is, that a Vine is in this place said to be loaded with grapes, which plainly confines the season of the year to the Autumn.

Eustathius imagines, that the Poet describes Ulysses absent from Calypso, to the end that Calypso might lay a seeming obligation upon Ulysses, by appearing to dismiss him voluntarily: for Ulysses being absent, could not know that Mercury had commanded his departure; so that this favour appears to proceed from the sole kindness of the Goddess. Dacier dislikes this observation, and shews that decency requires the absence of Ulysses; if the Poet had describ'd him in the company of Calypso, it might have given suspicion of an amorous disposition, and he might seem content with his absence from his country: but the very nature of the Poem requires that he should be continually endeavouring to return to it: The Poet therefore with great judgment describes him agreeably to his character, his mind is entirely taken up with his misfortunes, and neglecting all the pleasures which a Goddess could confer, he entertains himself with his own melancholy reflections, sitting in solitude upon the sea-shores.

The love of Calypso to Ulysses might seem too bold a fiction, and contrary to all credibility, Ulysses being a mortal, she a Goddess: Homer therefore to soften the relation, brings in instances of the like passion, in Orion and Iäsion; and by this he fully justifies his own conduct, the Poet being at liberty to make use of any prevailing story, tho' it were all fable and fiction.

But why should the death of Orion be here ascrib'd to Diana; whereas in other places, she is said to exercise her power only over Women? The reason is, she slew him for offering violence to her chastity; for tho' Homer be silent about his crime, yet Horace relates it

Eustathius gives another reason why Aurora is said to be in love with Orion. He was a great hunter, as appears from the eleventh book of the Odyssey; and the morning or Aurora is most favourable to those diversions.

Ceres is here understood allegorically, to signify the earth; Iäsion was a great Husbandman, and consequently Ceres may easily be feign'd to be in love with him: The thunderbolt with which he is slain signifies the excess of heat, which frequently disappoints the hopes of the labourer. Eustathius.

Homer in this speech of Calypso shews very naturally how passion misguides the understanding. She views her own cause in the most advantageous, but false light, and thence concludes that Jupiter offers a piece of injustice in commanding the departure of Ulysses: She tells Mercury, that it is she who had preserv'd his life, who had entertain'd him with affection, and offer'd him immortality; and would Jupiter thus repay her tenderness to Ulysses? Would Jupiter force him from a place where nothing was wanting to his happiness, and expose him again to the like dangers from which she had preserv'd him? this was an act of cruelty. But on the contrary, she speaks not one word concerning the truth of the cause: viz. that she offer'd violence to the inclinations of Ulysses; that she made him miserable by detaining him, not only from his wife, but from his whole dominions; and never considers that Jupiter is just in delivering him from his captivity. This is a very lively, tho' unhappy picture of human nature, which is too apt to fall into error, and then endeavours to justify an error by a seeming reason. Dacier.

This passage has fallen under the severe censure of the Critics, they condemn it as an act of conjugal infidelity, and a breach of Morality in Ulysses: It would be sufficient to answer, that a Poet is not oblig'd to draw a perfect character in the person of his Heroe: perfection is not to be found in human life, and consequently ought not to be ascribed to it in Poetry: Neither Achilles nor Æneas are perfect characters: Æneas in particular is as guilty, with respect to Dido, in the desertion of her, (for Virgil tells us they were married, connubio jungam stabili) as Ulysses can be imagin'd to be by the most severe Critic, with respect to Calypso.

But those who have blam'd this passage, form their judgments from the morality of these ages, and not from the Theology of the Ancients: Polygamy was then allow'd, and even Concubinage, without being esteem'd any breach of conjugal fidelity: If this be not admitted, the heathen Gods are as guilty as the heathen Heroes, and Jupiter and Ulysses are equally criminals.

This very passage shews the sincere affection which Ulysses retain'd for his wife Penelope; even a Goddess cannot persuade him to forget her; his person is in the power of Calypso, but his heart is with Penelope. Tully had this book of Homer in his thought when he said of Ulysses, Vetulam suam prætulit immortalitati.

It may be ask'd what occasions this conduct in Ulysses? he has long been desirous to return to his country, why then is he melancholy at the proposal of it? This proceeds from his apprehensions of insincerity in Calypso: he had long been unable to obtain his dismission with the most urgent entreaties; this voluntary kindness therefore seems suspicious. He is ignorant that Jupiter had commanded his departure, and therefore fears lest his obstinate desire of leaving her should have provoked her to destroy him, under a shew of complying with his inclinations. This is an instance that Ulysses is not only wise in extricating himself from difficulties, but cautious in guarding against dangers.

The oath of Calypso is introduc'd with the utmost solemnity. Rapine allows it to be an instance of true sublimity. The Ancients attested all nature in their oaths, that all nature might conspire to punish their perjuries. Virgil has imitated this passage, but has not copy'd the full beauty of the original.

It is the remark of Grotius, that the like expression is found in Deuteronomy, Hear, oh ye heavens, the words that I speak, and let the earth hear the words of my mouth. Which may almost literally be render'd by this verse of Homer.

The Passion of Love is no where describ'd in all Homer, but in this passage between Calypso and Ulysses; and we find that the Poet is not unsuccessful in drawing the tender, as well as the fiercer passions. This seemingly-trifling circumstance is an instance of it; love delights to oblige, and the least offices receive a value from the person who performs them: This is the reason why Calypso serves Ulysses with her own hands; her Damsels attend her, but love make it a pleasure to her to attend Ulysses.

Calypso shews more fondness for Ulysses, than Ulysses for Calypso: Indeed Ulysses had been no less than seven years in the favour of that Goddess; it was a kind of matrimony, and husbands are not altogether so fond as lovers. But the true reason is, a more tender behaviour had been contrary to the character of Ulysses; it is necessary that his stay should be by constraint, that he should continually be endeavouring to return to his own country; and consequently to have discover'd too great a degree of satisfaction in any thing during his absence, had outrag'd his character. His return is the main hinge upon which the whole Odyssey turns, and therefore no pleasure, not even a Goddess, ought to divert him from it.

This is another instance of the tyranny of the passion of love: Calypso had receiv'd a command to dismiss Ulysses; Mercury had laid before her the fatal consequences of her refusal, and she had promis'd to send him away; but her Love here again prevails over her reason; she frames excuses still to detain him, and though she dares not keep him, she knows not how to part with him. This is a true picture of nature; Love this moment resolves, the next breaks these resolutions: She had promis'd to obey Jupiter, in not detaining Ulysses; but she endeavours to persuade Ulysses not to go away.

Ulysses shews great address in this answer to Calypso; he softens the severity of it, by first asking a favourable acceptance of what he is about to say; he calls her his ador'd Goddess, and places Penelope in every degree below the perfections of Calypso. As it is the nature of woman not to endure a rival, Ulysses assigns the desire of his return to another cause than the love of Penelope, and ascribes it solely to the love he bears his country. Eustathius.

This passage has fallen under censure, as outraging all probability: Rapine believes it to be impossible for one man alone to build so compleat a vessel in the compass of four days; and perhaps the same opinion might lead Bossu into a mistake, who allows twenty days to Ulysses in building it; he applies the word εικοσι, or twenty, to the days, which ought to be apply'd to the trees; δενδρεα is understood, for the Poet immediately after declares that the whole was compleated in the space of four days; neither is there any thing incredible in the description. I have observ'd already that this vessel is but Σχεδια, a Float, or Raft; 'tis true, Ulysses cuts down twenty trees to build it; this may seem too great a provision of materials for so small an undertaking: But why should we imagine these to be large trees? the description plainly shews the contrary, for it had been impossible to have fell'd twenty large trees in the space of four days, much more to have built a vessel proportionable to such materials: but the vessel was but small, and consequently such were the trees. Homer calls these dry trees; this is not inserted without reason, for green wood is unfit for Navigation.

Homer in this passage shews his skill in Mechanics; a shipwright could not have describ'd a vessel more exactly: but what is chiefly valuable, is the insight it gives us to what degree this art of shipbuilding was then arriv'd: We find likewise what use Navigators made of Astronomy in those ages; so that this passage deserves a double regard, as a fine piece of Poetry, and a valuable remain of Antiquity.

It is remarkable, that Calypso brings the tools to Ulysses at several times: this is another instance of the nature of Love; it seeks opportunities to be in the company of the belov'd person. Calypso is an instance of it: she frequently goes away, and frequently returns; she delays the time, by not bringing all the implements at once to Ulysses; so that tho' she cannot divert him from his resolutions of leaving her, yet she protracts his stay.

It may be necessary to make some observations in general upon this passage of Calypso and Ulysses. Mr. Dryden has been very severe upon it. “What are the tears, says he, of Calypso for being left, to the fury and death of Dido? Where is there the whole process of her passion, and all its violent effects to be found, in the languishing Episode of the Odysses?” Much may be said in vindication of Homer; there is a wide difference between the characters of Dido and Calypso, Calypso is a Goddess, and consequently not liable to the same passions, as an enrag'd woman: yet disappointed love being always an outrageous passion, Homer makes her break out into blasphemies against Jupiter and all the Gods. “But the same process of love is not found in Homer as in Virgil;” 'Tis true, and Homer had been very injudicious if he had inserted it. The time allows it not; it was necessary for Homer to describe the conclusion of Calypso's passion, not the beginning or process of it. It was necessary to carry on the main design of the Poem, viz. the Departure of Ulysses, in order to his re-establishment; and not amuse the Reader with the detail of a passion that was so far from contributing to the end of the Poem, that it was the greatest impediment to it. If the Poet had found an enlargement necessary to his design, had he attempted a full description of the passion, and then fail'd, Mr. Dryden's Criticism had been judicious. Virgil had a fair opportunity to expatiate, nay the occasion requir'd it, inasmuch as the love of Dido contributed to the design of the Poem; it brought about her assistance to Æneas, and the preservation of his companions: and consequently the copiousness of Virgil is as judicious as the conciseness of Homer. I allow Virgil's to be a masterpiece; perhaps no images are more happily drawn in all that Poet; but the passages in the two Authors are not similar, and consequently admit of no comparison: Would it not have been insufferable in Homer, to have stepp'd seven years backward, to describe the process of Calypso's passion, when the very nature of the Poem requires that Ulysses should immediately return to his own country? ought the action to be suspended for a fine description? But an opposite conduct was judicious in both the Poets, and therefore Virgil is commendable for giving us the whole process of a love-passion in Dido, Homer for only relating the conclusion of it in Calypso. I will only add that Virgil has borrow'd his Machinery from Homer, and that the departure of Æneas and Ulysses is brought about by the command of Jupiter, and the descent of Mercury.

It is remarkable, that Calypso brings the tools to Ulysses at several times: this is another instance of the nature of Love; it seeks opportunities to be in the company of the belov'd person. Calypso is an instance of it: she frequently goes away, and frequently returns; she delays the time, by not bringing all the implements at once to Ulysses; so that tho' she cannot divert him from his resolutions of leaving her, yet she protracts his stay.

It may be necessary to make some observations in general upon this passage of Calypso and Ulysses. Mr. Dryden has been very severe upon it. “What are the tears, says he, of Calypso for being left, to the fury and death of Dido? Where is there the whole process of her passion, and all its violent effects to be found, in the languishing Episode of the Odysses?” Much may be said in vindication of Homer; there is a wide difference between the characters of Dido and Calypso, Calypso is a Goddess, and consequently not liable to the same passions, as an enrag'd woman: yet disappointed love being always an outrageous passion, Homer makes her break out into blasphemies against Jupiter and all the Gods. “But the same process of love is not found in Homer as in Virgil;” 'Tis true, and Homer had been very injudicious if he had inserted it. The time allows it not; it was necessary for Homer to describe the conclusion of Calypso's passion, not the beginning or process of it. It was necessary to carry on the main design of the Poem, viz. the Departure of Ulysses, in order to his re-establishment; and not amuse the Reader with the detail of a passion that was so far from contributing to the end of the Poem, that it was the greatest impediment to it. If the Poet had found an enlargement necessary to his design, had he attempted a full description of the passion, and then fail'd, Mr. Dryden's Criticism had been judicious. Virgil had a fair opportunity to expatiate, nay the occasion requir'd it, inasmuch as the love of Dido contributed to the design of the Poem; it brought about her assistance to Æneas, and the preservation of his companions: and consequently the copiousness of Virgil is as judicious as the conciseness of Homer. I allow Virgil's to be a masterpiece; perhaps no images are more happily drawn in all that Poet; but the passages in the two Authors are not similar, and consequently admit of no comparison: Would it not have been insufferable in Homer, to have stepp'd seven years backward, to describe the process of Calypso's passion, when the very nature of the Poem requires that Ulysses should immediately return to his own country? ought the action to be suspended for a fine description? But an opposite conduct was judicious in both the Poets, and therefore Virgil is commendable for giving us the whole process of a love-passion in Dido, Homer for only relating the conclusion of it in Calypso. I will only add that Virgil has borrow'd his Machinery from Homer, and that the departure of Æneas and Ulysses is brought about by the command of Jupiter, and the descent of Mercury.

It is observable that the Poet passes over the parting of Calypso and Ulysses in silence; he leaves it to be imagin'd by the Reader, and prosecutes his main action. Nothing but a cold compliment could have proceeded from Ulysses, he being overjoy'd at the prospect of returning to his country: it was therefore judicious in Homer to omit the relation; and not draw Calypso in tears, and Ulysses in a transport of joy. Besides, it was necessary to shorten the Episode: the commands of Jupiter were immediately to be obey'd; and the story being now turn'd to Ulysses, it was requisite to put him immediately upon action, and describe him endeavouring to re-establish his own affairs, which is the whole design of the Odyssey.

It may seem incredible that one person should be able to manage a vessel seventeen days without any assistance; but Eustathius vindicates Homer by an instance that very much resembles this of Ulysses. A certain Pamphylian being taken prisoner, and carried to Tamiathis (afterwards Damietta) in Ægypt, continued there several years; but being continually desirous to return to his country, he pretends a skill in sea affairs; this succeeds, and he is immediately employ'd in Maritime business, and permitted the liberty to follow it according to his own inclination, without any inspection. He made use of this opportunity, and furnishing himself with a sail, and provisions for a long voyage, committed himself to the sea all alone; he cross'd that vast extent of waters that lies between Ægypt and Pamphylia, and arriv'd safely in his own country: In memory of this prodigious event he chang'd his name, and was called μονοναυτης, or the sole-sailor; and the family was not extinct in the days of Eustathius.

It may not be improper to observe, that this description of Ulysses sailing alone is a demonstration of the smallness of his vessel; for it is impossible that a large one could be managed by a single person. It is indeed said that twenty trees were taken down for the vessel, but this does not imply that all the trees were made use of, but only so much of them as was necessary to his purpose.

This expression gives a very lively idea of an Island of small extent, that is, of a form more long than large: Aristarchus, instead of ρινον, writes ερινον, or resembling a Fig; others tell us, that ρινον is used by the Illyrians to signify αχλυν, or a Mist; this likewise very well represents the first appearance of land to those that sail at a distance: it appears indistinct and confus'd, or as it is here express'd, like a Mist. Eustathius.

There is some difficulty in this passage. Strabo, as Eustathius observes, affirms that the expression of Neptune's seeing Ulysses from the mountains of Solymé, is to be taken in a general sense, and not to denote the Solymæan mountains in Pisidia; but other eastern mountains that bear the same appellation. In propriety, the Solymæans inhabit the summits of mount Taurus, from Lycia even to Pisidia; these were very distant from the passage of Neptune from the Æthiopians, and consequently could not be the mountains intended by Homer; we must therefore have recourse to the preceding assertion of Strabo, for a solution of the difficulty. Dacier endeavours to explain it another way: Who knows, says she, but that the name of Solymæan was antiently extended to all very elevated mountains? Bochart affirms, that the word Solymi is deriv'd from the Hebrew Selem, or Darkness; why then might not this be a general appellation? But this is all conjecture, and it is much more probable that such a name should be given to some mountains by way of distinction and emphatically, from some peculiar and extraordinary quality; than extend it to all very lofty mountains, which could only introduce confusion and error.

Plutarch in his Symposiacs relates a memorable story concerning Memmius, the Roman General: When he had sack'd the City Corinth, and made slaves of those who surviv'd the ruin of it, he commanded one of the youths of a liberal education to write down some sentence in his presence, according to his own inclinations. The youth immediately wrote this passage from Homer.

Memmius immediately burst into tears, and gave the youth and all his relations their liberty.

Virgil has translated this passage in the first book of his Æneis. The storm, and the behaviour of Æneas, are copy'd exactly from it. The storm, in both the Poets, is describ'd concisely, but the images are full of terror; Homer leads the way, and Virgil treads in his steps without any deviation. Ulysses falls into lamentation, so does Æneas: Ulysses wishes he had found a nobler death, so does Æneas: this discovers a bravery of spirit, they lament not that they are to die, but only the inglorious manner of it. This fully answers an objection that has been made both against Homer and Virgil, who have been blam'd for describing their Heroes with such an air of mean-spiritedness. Drowning was esteem'd by the Ancients an accursed death, as it depriv'd their bodies of the rites of Sepulture; it is therefore no wonder that this kind of death was greatly dreaded, since it barr'd their entrance into the happy regions of the dead for many hundreds of years.

These words have relation to an Action, no where describ'd in the Iliad or Odyssey. When Achilles was slain by the treachery of Paris, the Trojans made a sally to gain his body, but Ulysses carried it off upon his shoulders, while Ajax protected him with his shield. The war of Troy is not the subject of the Iliad, and therefore Homer relates not the death of Achilles; but, as Longinus remarks, he inserts many Actions in the Odyssey which are the sequel of the story of the Iliad. This conduct has a very happy effect; he aggrandizes the character of Ulysses by these short histories, and has found out the way to make him praise himself, without vanity.

It is not probable that Ulysses could escape so great a danger by his own strength alone; and therefore the Poet introduces Leucothea to assist in his preservation. But it may be ask'd, if this is not contradictory to the command of Jupiter in the beginning of this book? Ulysses is there forbid all assistance either from men or Gods; whence then is it that Leucothea preserves him? The former passage is to be understood to imply an interdiction only of all assistance 'till Ulysses was shipwreck'd; he was to suffer, not to die: Thus Pallas afterwards calms the storm; she may be imagin'd to have a power over the winds, as she is the daughter of Jupiter, who denotes the Air, according to the observation of Eustathius: Here Leucothea is very properly introduced to preserve Ulysses; she is a Sea-Goddess, and had been a mortal, and therefore interests her self in the cause of a mortal.

This passage may seem extraordinary, and the Poet be thought to preserve Ulysses by incredible means. What virtue could there be in this Scarf against the violence of storms? Eustathius very well answers this objection. It is evident that the belief of the power of Amulets or Charms prevailed in the times of Homer; thus Moly is used by Ulysses as a preservative against Fascination, and some charm may be supposed to be imply'd in the Zone or Cæstus of Venus. Thus Ulysses may be imagin'd to have worn a scarf, or cincture, as a preservative against the perils of the sea. They consecrated antiently Votiva, as tablets, &c. in the temples of their Gods: So Ulysses, wearing a Zone consecrated to Leucothea, may be said to receive it from the hands of that Goddess. Eustathius observes, that Leucothea did not appear in the form of a Bird, for then how should she speak, or how bring this cincture or scarf? The expression has relation only to the manner of her rising out of the sea, and descending into it; the Action, not the Person, is intended to be represented. Thus Minerva is said in the Odyssey, to fly away, ορνις ως ανοπαια, not in the form but with the swiftness of an Eagle. Most of the Translators have render'd this passage ridiculously, they describe her in the real form of a sea-fowl, tho' she speaks, and gives her Scarf. So the version of Hobbs:

Eustathius observes, that this passage is a lesson to instruct us, that second reflections are preferable to our first thoughts; and the Poet maintains the character of Ulysses by describing him thus doubtful and cautious. But is not Ulysses too incredulous, who will not believe a Goddess? and disobedient to her, by not committing himself to the seas? Leucothea does not confine Ulysses to an immediate compliance with her injunctions; she indeed commands him to forsake the Raft, but leaves the Time to his own discretion: And Ulysses might very justly be somewhat incredulous, when he knew that Neptune was his enemy, and contriving his destruction. The doubts therefore of Ulysses are the doubts of a wise man: But then, is not Ulysses describ'd with a greater degree of prudence, than the Goddess? she commands him to leave the Raft, he chuses to make use of it 'till he arrives nearer the shores. Eustathius directly ascribes more wisdom to Ulysses than to Leucothea. This may appear too partial; it is sufficient to observe, that the command of Leucothea was general and left the manner of the execution of it to his own prudence.

It may be thought incredible that any person should be able to contend so long with a violent storm, and at last survive it: It is allow'd that this could scarce be done by the natural strength of Ulysses; but the Poet has soften'd the narration, by ascribing his preservation to the cincture of Leucothea. The Poet likewise very judiciously removes Neptune, that Ulysses may not appear to be preserv'd against the power of that God; and to reconcile it entirely to credibility, he introduces Pallas, who calms the winds and composes the waves, to make way for his preservation.

This is a very beautiful comparison, and well adapted to the occasion. We mistake the intention of it, as Eustathius observes, if we imagine that Homer intended to compare the person of Ulysses to these children: It is introduc'd solely to express the joy which he conceives at the sight of land; if we look upon it in any other view, the resemblance is lost; for the children suffer not themselves, but Ulysses is in the utmost distress. These Images drawn from common life are particularly affecting; they have relation to every man as every man may possibly be in such circumstances: other Images may be more noble, and yet less pleasing; They may raise our admiration, but those engage our affections.

It was a prevailing opinion among the Ancients, that the Gods were the authors of all diseases incident to mankind. Hippocrates himself confesses that he had found some distempers, in which the hand of the Gods was manifest, θειον, as Dacier observes. In this place this assertion has a peculiar beauty, it shews that the malady was not contracted by any vice of the father, but inflicted by an evil Dæmon. Nothing is more evident, than that every person was suppos'd by the Ancients to have a good and a bad Dæmon attending him; what the Greeks call'd a Dæmon, the Romans named a Genius. I confess that this is no where directly affirm'd in Homer, but as Plutarch observes, it is plainly intimated. In the second book of the Iliad the word is used both in a good and bad sense; when Ulysses addresses himself to the Generals of the army, he says Δαιμονιε, in the better sense; and immediately afterwards he uses it to denote a coward,

This is a strong evidence, that the notion of good and bad Dæmons was believ'd in the days of Homer.

Ulysses in this place calls as it were a council in his own breast; considers his danger, and how to free himself from it. But it may be ask'd if it be probable that he should have leisure for such a consultation, in the time of such imminent danger? The answer is, that nothing could be more happily imagin'd, to exalt his character: He is drawn with a great presence of mind, in the most desperate circumstances; fear does not prevail over his reason; his wisdom dictates the means of his preservation; and his bravery of spirit supports him in the accomplishment of it.

The Poet is also very judicious in the management of the speech; it is concise, and therefore proper to the occasion, there being no leisure for prolixity; every Image is drawn from the situation of the place, and his present condition; he follows Nature, and Nature is the foundation of true Poetry.

It is very surprizing to see the prodigious variety with which Homer enlivens his Poetry: he rises or falls as his subject leads him, and finds allusions proper to represent an Heroe in battle, or a person in calamity. We have here an instance of it; he compares Ulysses to a Polypus; the similitude is suited to the element, and to the condition of the person. It is observable, that this is the only full description of a person shipwreck'd in all his Poems: he therefore gives a loose to his imagination, and enlarges upon it very copiously. There appears a surprizing fertility of invention thro' the whole of it: In what a variety of attitudes is Ulysses drawn, during the storm, and at his escape from it? his soliloquies in the turns of his condition, while he is sometimes almost out of danger, and then again involv'd in new difficulties, engage our hopes and fears. He ennobles the whole by his machinery, and Neptune, Pallas and Leucothea interest themselves in his safety or destruction. He has likewise chosen the most proper occasion for a copious description; there is leisure for it. The proposition of the Poem requires him to describe a man of sufferings in the person of Ulysses: he therefore no sooner introduces him, but he throws him into the utmost calamities, and describes them largely, to shew at once the greatness of his distress, and his wisdom and patience under it. In what are the sufferings of Æneas in Virgil comparable to these of Ulysses? Æneas suffers little personally in comparison of Ulysses, his incidents have less variety, and consequently less beauty. Homer draws his Images from Nature, but embellishes those Images with the utmost Art, and fruitfulness of invention.

This expression is bold, yet reconcileable to truth: Heav'n in reality has regard to the misery and affliction of good men, and at last delivers them from it. Res est sacra miser, as Dacier observes; and Seneca, in his dissertation on Providence, speaks to this purpose, Ecce spectaculum dignum ad quod respiciat, intentus operi suo, Deus! Ecce par Deo dignum, vir fortis cum malâ fortunâ compositus! Misery is not always a punishment, but sometimes a tryal: This is agreeable to true Theology.

Such passages as these are bold, yet beautiful. Poetry animates every thing, and turns Rivers into Gods. But what occasion is there for the intervention of this River-God to smooth the waters, when Pallas had already compos'd both the seas and the storms? The words in the original solve the objection, προσθε δε οι ποιληνην; or smooth'd the way before him, that is, his own current: the actions therefore are different; Pallas gives a general calmness to the Sea, the River-God to his own current.

Eustathius appears to me to give this passage a very forc'd interpretation; he imagines that the Poet, by saying that Ulysses bent his knees and arms, spoke philosophically, and intended to express that he contracted his limbs, that had been fatigued with the long extension in swimming, by a voluntary remission; lest they should grow stiff, and lose their natural faculty. But this is an impossibility: How could this be done, when he is speechless, fainting, without pulse and respiration? Undoubtedly Homer, as Dacier observes, means by the expression of εκαμψε γουνατα και χειρας, no more than that his limbs fail'd him, or he fainted. If the Action was voluntary, it implies that he intended to refresh them, for γονυ καμπτειν is generally used in that sense by Homer; if involuntarily, it signifies he fainted.

Homer is very happy in giving dignity to low Images. What can be more unpromising than this comparison, and what more successfully executed? Ulysses, in whom remains as it were but a spark of life, the vital heat being extinguish'd by the shipwreck, is very justly compar'd to a brand, that retains only some small remains of fire; the leaves that cover Ulysses, are represented by the embers, and the preservation of the fire all night, paints the revival of his spirits by the repose of the night; the expression,

is not added in vain; it gives, as Eustathius further observes, an air of credibility to the allusion, as if it had really been drawn from some particular observation; a person that lives in a desart being oblig'd to such circumstantial cares, where it is impossible to have a supply, for want of neighbours. Homer literally calls these remains the seeds of fire; Æschylus in his Prometheus calls a spark of fire πυρος πηγην, or a fountain of fire; less happily in my judgment, the ideas of fire and water being contradictory.

The Phæacians having a great share in the succeeding parts of the Odyssey, it may not be improper to enlarge upon their character. Homer has here describ'd them very distinctly: he is to make use of the Phæacians to convey Ulysses to his country, he therefore by this short character, gives the Reader such an Image of them, that he is not surpriz'd at their credulity and simplicity, in believing all those fabulous recitals which Ulysses makes in the Progress of the Poem. The place likewise in which he describes them is well chosen; it is before they enter upon Action, and by this method we know what to expect from them, and see how every action is naturally suited to their character.

Bossu observes that the Poet has inserted this verse with great judgment: Ulysses, says he, knew that the Phæacians were simple and credulous; and that they had all the qualities of a lazy people, who admire nothing so much as romantic adventures: he therefore pleases them, by recitals suited to their own humour: But even here the Poet is not unmindful of his more understanding Readers, and the truth intended to be taught by way of moral is, that a soft and effeminate life breaks the spirit, and renders it incapable of manly sentiments or actions.

Plutarch seems to understand this verse in a different manner; he quotes it in his dissertation upon Banishment, to shew that Nausithous made his people happy tho' he left his own country, and settled them far from the commerce of mankind, εκας ανδρων αλφησταων, without any particular view to the Phæacians, which was undoubtedly intended by Homer; those words being a kind of a Preface to their general character.

This Phæacia of the ancients is the Island now called Corfu. The Inhabitants of it were a Colony of the Hyperians: Eustathius remarks, that it has been a question whether Hyperia were a City or an Island; he judges it to be a City: it was infested by the Cyclops; but they had no shipping, as appears from the tenth of the Odyssey, and consequently if it had been an Island, they could not have molested the Phæacians; he therefore concludes it to be a City, afterwards call'd Camarina in Sicily.

Mr. Barnes has here added a verse that is not to be found in any other edition; and I have render'd it in the translation.

The Poet, as Eustathius observes, celebrates the beauty of these two attending Virgins to raise their characters, that they may not be esteem'd common servants, or the Poet thought extravagant when he compares Nausicaa and her damsels to Diana and her nymphs.

The judgment with which he introduces the vision is remarkable: In the Iliad, when he is to give an air of importance to his vision, he cloathes it in the likeness of Nestor, the wisest person of the Army; a man of less consideration had been unsuitable to the greatness of the occasion, which was to persuade Kings and Heroes. Here the Poet sends a vision to a young Lady, under the resemblance of a young Lady: he adapts the circumstances to the person, and describes the whole with an agreeable propriety.

Here is a remarkable custom of Antiquity. Eustathius observes, that it was usual for the bride to give changes of dress to the friends of the bridegroom at the celebration of the marriage, and Homer directly affirms it. Dacier quotes a passage in Judges concerning Sampson's giving changes of garments at his marriage feast, as an instance of the like custom amongst the Israelites; but I believe, if there was such a custom at all amongst them, it is not evident from the passage alledg'd: Nothing is plainer, than that Sampson had not given the garments, if his riddle had not been expounded: nay, instead of giving, he himself had receiv'd them, if it had not been interpreted. I am rather of opinion that what is said of Sampson, has relation to another custom amongst the Ancients, of proposing an Ænigma at festivals, and adjudging a reward to him that solv'd it. These the Greeks call'd γριφους συμποτικους; griphos convivales; Athenæus has a long dissertation about this practice in his tenth book, and gives a number of instances of the Ænigmatical propositions in use at Athens, and of the forfeitures and rewards upon the solution, and non-solution of them; and Eustathius in the tenth book of the Odyssey comes into the same opinion. So that if it was a custom amongst the Israelites as well as Greeks to give garments, (as it appears to be to give other gifts) this passage is no instance of it: It is indeed a proof that the Hebrews as well as Greeks had a custom of entertaining themselves at their festivals, with these griphi convivales: I therefore believe that these changes of garments were no more than rewards or forfeits, according to the success in the interpretation.

It is very probable that Quintilian had this verse in his view when he wrote Cultus magnificus addit hominibus, ut Græco versu testatum est, authoritatem. His words are almost a translation of it.

What I would chiefly observe is the propriety with which this commendation of dress is introduc'd; it is put into the mouth of a young Lady (for so Pallas appears to be) to whose character it is suitable to delight in Ornament. It likewise agrees very well with the description of the Phæacians, whose chief happiness consisted in dancing, dressing, singing, &c. Such a commendation of ornament would have been improper in the mouth of a Philosopher, but beautiful when spoken by a young Lady to Alcinous.

This passage has not escap'd the raillery of the Critics; Homer, say they, brings the Goddess of Wisdom down from heaven, only to advise Nausicaa to make haste to wash her cloaths against her wedding: what necessity is there for a conduct so extraordinary upon so trivial an occasion? Eustathius sufficiently answers the objection, by observing that the Poet very naturally brings about the safety of Ulysses by it; the action of the washing is the means, the protection of Ulysses the end of the descent of that Goddess; so that she is not introduced lightly, or without contributing to an important action: And it must be allow'd, that the means made use of are very natural; they grow out of the occasion, and at once give the fable a poetical turn, and an air of probability.

It has been further objected, that the Poet gives an unworthy employment to Nausicaa, the daughter of a King; but such Critics form their idea of ancient, from modern greatness: It wou'd be now a meanness to describe a person of Quality thus employ'd, because custom has made it the work of persons of low condition: It would be now thought dishonourable for a Lady of bright station to attend the flocks; yet we find in the most ancient history extant, that the daughters of Laban and Jethro, persons of power and distinction, were so employ'd, without any dishonour to their quality. In short, these passages are to be look'd upon as exact pictures of the old World, and consequently as valuable remains of Antiquity.

It would have been an impropriety to have render'd αμαξαν by the word chariot; Homer seems industriously to avoid αρμα, but constantly uses απηνη, or αμαξα; this car was drawn by mules; whereas, observes Eustathius, the chariot or αρμα was proper only for horses. The word Car takes in the Idea of any other vehicle, as well as of a Chariot.

This passage has undergone a very severe censure, as mean and ridiculous, chiefly from the expressions to her father afterwards, υψηλην, ευκυκλον: which being render'd, high, and round, disgrace the Author: No person, I believe, would ask a father to lend his high and round Car; nor has Homer said it: Eustathius observes, that ευκυκλος is the same as ευτροχος κυκλα λεγονται οι τροχον, or wheels; and that υπερτερια, is το επικειμενον τετραγωνον πλινθιον τω αξονι, or the quadrangular body of the Car that rests upon the axle of it; this fully answers the Criticism: Nausicaa describes the Car so particularly, to distinguish it from a Chariot, which had been improper for her purpose: The other part of the objection, concerning the roundness of the Car, is a mistake in the Critic; the word having relation to the wheels, and not to the body of it, which, as Eustathius observes, was quadrangular.

Lucretius has copy'd this fine passage, and equall'd, if not surpass'd the original.

The picture is the same in both Authors, but the colouring in my opinion is less beautiful in Homer than Lucretius: the three last lines in particular are fuller of ornament, and the very verses have an air of the serenity they were intended to paint.

This is another image of ancient life: We see a Queen amidst her attendants at work at the dawn of day: de nocte surrexit, & digiti ejus apprehenderant fusum. This is a practice as contrary to the manners of our ages, as the other of washing the robes: 'Tis the more remarkable in this Queen, because she liv'd amongst an idle effeminate people, that lov'd nothing but pleasures. Dacier.

It is not without reason that the Poet describes Nausicaa carrying the whole wardrobe of the family to the river: he inserts these circumstances so particularly, that she may be able to cloath Ulysses in the sequel of the story: he further observes the modesty and simplicity of these early times, when the whole dress of a King and his family (who reign'd over a people that delighted in dress) is without gold: for we see Nausicaa carries with her all the habits that were used at the greatest solemnities; which had they been wrought with gold could not have been washed. Eustathius.

This Image of Nausicaa riding in her Car to the river, has exercis'd the pencils of excellent Painters. Pausanias in his fifth book, which is the first of the Eliacs, speaks of a picture of two Virgins drawn by Mules, of which the one guides the reins, the other has her head cover'd with a veil: It is believ'd that it represents Nausicaa, the daughter of Alcinous, going with one of her virgins to the river. The words of Pausanias have caused some doubt with relation to the picture; he says, επι ημιονων, or upon Mules, but Homer describes her upon a Car; how then can Nausicaa be intended by the Painter? But Romulus Amasæus, who comments upon Pausanias, solves the difficulty, by observing that επι ημιονων does not signify upon Mules, but a Car drawn by Mules, by a figure frequent in all Authors. Pliny is also thus to be understood in his 35th book; Protogenes the Rhodian painted at Athens Paralus, and likewise Hemionida, who is said to represent Nausicaa; Hemionida is used (as Hermolaus Barbarus observes upon that passage) as a term of art to express a Virgin riding upon, or more properly drawn by Mules, or επι ημιονων. Spondanus.

It is evident, that the Ancients had basons, or cisterns, continually supply'd by the rivers for this business of washing; they were call'd, observes Eustathius, πλυνοι, or βοθροι; and were sometimes made of marble, other times of wood. Thus in the Iliad, book 22d,

The manner of washing was different from what is now in use: They trod them with their feet, Σειβον, ετριβον τοις ποσι.

It may be thought that these customs are of small importance, and of little concern to the present ages: It is true; but Time has stamp'd a value upon them: like ancient Medals, their intrinsic worth may be small, but yet they are valuable, because images of Antiquity.

Plutarch in his Symposiacs proposes this question, Why Nausicaa washes in the river, rather than the sea, tho' it was more high, more hot, and consequently more fit for the purpose than the river? Theon answers from Aristotle, that the sea-water has many gross, rough, and earthy particles in it, as appears from its saltness, whereas fresh water is more pure and unmixt, and consequently more subtle and penetrating, and fitter for use in washing. Themistocles dislikes this reason, and affirms that sea-water being more rough and earthy, than that of rivers, is therefore the most proper, for its cleansing quality; this appears from observation, for in washing, ashes, or some such substance are thrown into the fresh water to make it effectual, for those particles open the pores, and conduce to the effect of cleansing. The true reason then is, that there is an unctuous nature in sea water, (and Aristotle confesses all salt to be unctuous) which hinders it from cleansing: whereas river-water is pure, less mixt, and consequently more subtle and penetrating, and being free from all oily substance, is preferable and more effectual than sea-water.

This is a very beautiful comparison, (and when-ever I say any thing in commendation of Homer, I would always be understood to mean the original.) Virgil was sensible of it, and inserted it in his Poem,

It has given occasion for various Criticisms, with relation to the beauty of the two Authors. I will lay before the Reader what is said in behalf of Homer in Aulus Gellius, and the answer by Scaliger.

Gellius writes, that it was the opinion of Valerius Probus, that no passage has been more unhappily copy'd by Virgil, than this comparison. Homer very beautifully compares Nausicaa, a Virgin, sporting with her damsels in a solitary place, to Diana, a virgin Goddess, taking her diversion in a forest, in hunting with her rural Nymphs. Whereas Dido, a widow, is drawn by Virgil in the midst of a city, walking gravely with the Tyrian Princes, Instans operi, regnisque futuris, a circumstance that bears not the least resemblance to the sports of the Goddess. Homer represents Diana with her quiver at her shoulder, but at the same time he describes her as an huntress: Virgil gives her a quiver, but mentions nothing of her as an huntress, and consequently lays a needless burthen upon her shoulder. Homer excellently paints the fulness of joy which Latona felt at the sight of her daughter, γεγηθε δε τε φρενα Λητω; Virgil falls infinitely short of it in the word pertentant, which signifies a light joy that sinks not deep into the heart. Lastly, Virgil has omitted the strongest point and very flower of the comparison,

'Tis the last circumstance that compleats the comparison, as it distinguishes Nausicaa from her attendants, for which very purpose the allusion was introduced.

Scaliger (who never deserts Virgil in any difficulty) answers, that the persons, not the places, are intended to be represented by both Poets; otherwise Homer himself is blameable, for Nausicaa is not sporting on a mountain but a plain, and has neither bow nor quiver like Diana. Neither is there any weight in the objection concerning the gravity of the gait of Dido; for neither is Nausicaa describ'd in the act of hunting, but dancing: And as for the word pertentant, it is a metaphor taken from musicians and musical instruments: it denotes a strong degree of joy, per bears an intensive sense, and takes in the perfection of joy. As to the quiver, it was an ensign of the Goddess, as Αργψπρτοξος was of Apollo, and is apply'd to her upon all occasions indifferently, not only by Virgil, but more frequently by Homer. Lastly, ρεια δ' αριγνωτη &c. is superfluous, for the joy of Latona compleats the whole, and Homer has already said γεγηθε δε τε φρενα Λητω.

But still it must be allow'd, that there is a greater correspondence to the subject intended to be illustrated, in Homer than in Virgil. Diana sports; so does Nausicaa; Diana is a Virgin, so is Nausicaa; Diana is amongst her virgin Nymphs, Nausicaa among her virgin attendants: whereas in all these points there is the greatest dissimilitude between Dido and Diana: And no one I believe but Scaliger can think the verse above quoted superfluous, which indeed is the beauty and perfection of comparison. There may, perhaps, be a more rational objection made against this line in both Poets.

This verse has no relation to the principal subject, the expectation is fully satisfy'd without it, and it alludes to nothing that either precedes or follows it, and consequently may be judg'd superfluous.

This Play with the Ball was called φεννις, and εφετινδα, by the Ancients; and from the signification of the word, which is deception, we may learn the nature of the Play: The ball was thrown to some one of the players unexpectedly, and he as unexpectedly threw it to some other of the company to catch, from which surprize upon one another, it took the name of φεννις. It was a sport much in use amongst the Ancients, both men and women; it caus'd a variety of motions in throwing and running, and was therefore a very healthful exercise. The Lacedæmonians were remarkable for the use of it; Alexander the Great frequently exercised at it; and Sophocles wrote a Play, call'd Πλυντριας, or Lotrices; in which he represented Nausicaa sporting with her damsels at this play: It is not now extant.

Dionysidorus gives us a various reading, instead of σφαιραν επειτ' ερριψε, he writes it, παλλαν επειτ', which the Latins render πιλον, and Suidas countenances the alteration, for he writes that a damsel named Larissa, as she sported at this play, (πιλω, not σφαιρη) was drowned in the river Peneus.

What I would further observe is, the art of the Poet in carrying on the story: He proceeds from incident to incident very naturally, and makes the sports of these Virgins contribute to the principal design of the Poem, and promote the re-establishment of Ulysses, by discovering him advantageously to the Phæacians. He so judiciously interweaves these sports into the texture of the story, that there would be a chasm if they were taken away; and the sports of the Virgins are as much of a piece with the whole, as any of the labours of Ulysses.

The Poet reaps a further advantage from this conduct: it beautifies and enlivens the Poem with a pleasant and entertaining scene, and relieves the Reader's mind by taking it off from a continual representation of horrour and sufferings in the story of Ulysses. He himself seems here to take breath, and indulging his fancy, lets it run out into several beautiful comparisons, to prepare the Reader to hear with a better relish the long detail of the calamities of his Heroe, thro' the sequel of the Odyssey.

This soliloquy is well adapted to the circumstances of Ulysses, and short, as is requisite in all soliloquies.

Virgil has imitated it, and Scaliger in general prefers the copy to the original.

But it may perhaps be true, that Virgil here falls short of Homer: There is not that harmony of numbers, that variety of circumstances, and sentiments in the Latin, as appears in the Greek Poet; and above all, the whole passage has more force and energy by being put into the mouth of Ulysses, than when merely related by Virgil.

Dacier observes, that Abraham makes the very same reflections as Ulysses, upon his arrival at Gerar. Cogitavi mecum dicens, forsitan non est timor domini in loco isto, Gen. xx. 11. I thought, surely the fear of God is not in this place; which very well answers to και σφιν νοος εστι θεουδης.

This passage has given great offence to the Critics. The interview between Ulysses and Nausicaa, says Rapine, outrages all the rules of decency: She forgets her modesty, and betrays her virtue, by giving too long an audience: she yields too much to his complaints, and indulges her curiosity too far at the sight of a person in such circumstances. But perhaps Rapine is too severe; Homer has guarded every circumstance with as much caution as if he had been aware of the objection: He covers his loins with a broad foliage, (for Eustathius observes, that πτορθος signifies κλαδος πλατυς, or a broad branch) he makes Ulysses speak at a proper distance, and introduces Minerva to encourage her virgin modesty. Is there here any outrage of decency? Besides, what takes off this objection of immodesty in Nausicaa, is, that the sight of a naked man was not unusual in those ages; it was customary for Virgins of the highest quality to attend Heroes to the bath, and even to assist in bathing them, without any breach of modesty; as is evident from the conduct of Polycaste in the conclusion of the third book of the Odyssey, who bathes and perfumes Telemachus. If this be true, the other objections of Rapine about her yielding too much to his complaints, &c. are of no weight; but so many testimonies of her virtuous and compassionate disposition, which induces her to pity and relieve calamity. Yet it may seem that the other damsels had a different opinion of this interview, and that thro' modesty they ran away, while Nausicaa alone talks with Ulysses: But this only shews, not that she had less modesty, but more prudence, than her retinue. The damsels fled not out of modesty, but fear of an enemy: whereas Nausicaa wisely reflects that no such person could arrive there, the country being an Island; and from his appearance, she rightly concluded him to be a man in calamity. This Wisdom is the Pallas in the Allegory, which makes her to stay when the other damsels fly for want of equal reflection. Adam and Eve cover'd themselves after the same manner as Ulysses.

This is a very noble comparison, yet has not escap'd censure; it has been objected that it is improper for the occasion, as bearing images of too much terror, only to fright a few timorous Virgins, and that the Poet is unseasonably sublime. This is only true in Burlesque poetry, where the most noble images are frequently assembled to disgrace the subject, and to shew a ridiculous disproportion between the allusion and the principal subject; but the same reason will not hold in Epic Poetry, where the Poet raises a low circumstance into dignity by a sublime comparison. The simile is not introduced merely to shew the impression it made upon the Virgins, but paints Ulysses himself in very strong colours: Ulysses is fatigued with the tempests and waves; the Lion with winds and storms: it is hunger that drives the Lion upon his prey; an equal necessity compells Ulysses to go down to the Virgins: the Lion is described in all his terrors, Ulysses arms himself as going upon an unknown adventure; so that the comparison is very noble and very proper. This verse in particular has something horrible in the very run of it.

Dionysius Halicarn, in his observations upon the placing of words quotes it to this purpose; When Homer, says he, is to introduce a terrible or unusual Image, he rejects the more flowing and harmonious vowels, and makes choice of such mutes and consonants as load the syllables, and render the pronunciation difficult.

Pausanias writes in his Attics, that the famous Painter Polygnotus painted this subject in the gallery at Athens. Εγραψε δε και προς τω ποταμω ταις ομου πλυνουσαις εφισταμενον Οδυσσεα; he painted Ulysses approaching Nausicaa and her damsels, as they were washing at the river. This is the same Polygnotus who painted in the gallery called ποικιλη, the battle of Marathon gain'd by Miltiades over the Medes and Persians.

There never was a more agreeable and insinuating piece of flattery, than this address of Ulysses; and yet nothing mean appears in it, as is usual in almost all flattery. The only part that seems liable to any imputation, is that exaggeration at the beginning, of calling her a Goddess; yet this is propos'd with modesty and doubt, and hypothetically. Eustathius assigns two reasons why he resembles her to Diana, rather than to any other Deity; either because he found her and her damsels in a solitary place, such as Diana is suppos'd to frequent with her rural Nymphs; or perhaps Ulysses might have seen some statue or picture of that Goddess, to which Nausicaa bore a likeness. Virgil (who has imitated this passage) is more bold, when without any doubt or hesitation, before he knew Venus, he pronounces the person with whom he talks, O Dea, certè.

Ovid has copy'd this passage in his Metamorphosis, book the 4th.

Scaliger prefers Virgil's imitation to Homer;

See his reasons in the fifth book of his Poetics. But Scaliger brings a much heavier charge against Homer, as having stoll'n the verses from Musæus, and disgraced them by his alterations. The verses are as follow.

Scaliger imagines this Musæus to be the same mention'd by Virgil, in the Elysian fields,

But I believe it is now agreed, that all the works of the ancient Musæus are perish'd, and that the person who wrote these verses liv'd many centuries after Homer, and consequently borrow'd them from him. Scaliger calls them fine and lively in Musæus, but abject, unnervate, and unharmonious in Homer. But his prejudice against Homer is too apt to give a wrong biass to his judgment. Is the similitude of sound in ησιν ισην in the second verse of Musæus, harmonious? and is there not a tautology in the two last lines? Happy is the mother that bore thee, and most happy the womb that brought thee forth; as if the happy person in the former line, were not the same with the most happy in the latter! Whereas Homer still rises in his Images, and ends with a compliment very agreeable to a beautiful Woman.

But this is submitted to the Reader's better judgment.

In the original, there is a false construction, for after σφισι θυμορ' ιαινεται, Ulysses uses λευσσοντων, whereas it ought to be λευσουσι; but this disorder is not without its effect, it represents the modest confusion with which he addresses Nausicaa; he is struck with a religious awe at the sight of her, (for so σεβας properly signifies,) and consequently naturally falls into a confusion of expression: This is not a negligence, but a beauty. Eustath.

This allusion is introduced to image the stateliness, and exactness of shape in Nausicaa, to the mind of the Reader; and so Tully, as Spondanus observes, understands it. Cicero, 1. de legibus. Aut quod Homericus Ulysses Deli se proceram & terram palmam vidisse dixit, hodie monstrant candem. Pliny also mentions this Palm, lib. 14. cap. 44. Necnon palma Deli ab ejusdem Dei ætate conspicitur: The story of the Palm is this: “When Latona was in travail of Apollo in Delos, the earth that instant produced a large Palm, against which she rested in her labour.” Homer mentions it in his Hymns.

And also Callimachus.

And again.

This allusion is after the oriental manner. Thus in the Psalms, how frequently are persons compar'd to Cedars? and in the same Author, children are resembled to Olive branches.

This Palm was much celebrated by the Ancients, the superstion of the age had given it a religious veneration, and even in the times of Tully the natives esteem'd it immortal; (for so the above-mention'd words imply;) This gives weight and beauty to the address of Ulysses, and it could not but be very acceptable to a young Lady, to hear herself compar'd to the greatest wonder in the Creation.

Dionysius Halicarn. observes the particular beauty of these two verses.

When Homer, says he, would paint an elegance of beauty, or represent any agreeable object, he makes use of the smoothest vowels and most flowing semivowels, as in the lines last recited: He rejects harsh sounds, and a collision of rough words; but the lines flow along with a smooth harmony of letters and syllables, without any offence to the ear by asperity of sound.

There is some obscurity in this passage: Ulysses speaks in general, and does not specify what voyage he means. It may therefore be ask'd how is it to be understood? Eustathius answers, that the voyage of the Greeks to the Trojan expedition is intended by the Poet; for Lycophron writes, that the Greeks sail'd by Delos in their passage to Troy.

Homer passes over the voyage in this transient manner without a further explanation: Ulysses had no leisure to enlarge upon that story, but reserves it more advantageously for a future discovery before Alcinous and the Phæacian rulers. By this conduct he avoids a repetition, which must have been tedious to the reader, who would have found little appetite afterwards, if he had already been satisfied by a full discovery made to Nausicaa. The obscurity therefore arises from choice, not want of judgment.

The morality of this passage is excellent, and very well adapted to the present occasion. Ulysses had said,

Nausicaa makes use of this expression to pay her address to Ulysses, and at the same time teaches, conformably to truth, that the afflicted are not always the objects of divine hate: The Gods (adds she) bestow good and evil indifferently, and therefore we must not judge of men from their conditions, for good men are frequently wretched, and bad men happy. Nay sometimes affliction distinguishes a man of goodness, when he bears it with a greatness of spirit. Sophocles puts a very beautiful expression into the mouth of OEdipus, καλλος κακων, the beauty and ornament of calamities.

Longinus is of opinion, that when great Poets and Writers sink in their vigour, and cannot reach the Pathetic, they descend to the Moral. Hence he judges the Odyssey to be the work of Homer's declining years, and gives that as a reason of its morality: He speaks not this out of derogation to Homer, for he compares him to the Sun, which tho' it has not the same warmth as when in the Meridian, is always of the same bigness: This is no dishonour to the Odyssey; the most useful, if not the most beautiful circumstance is allow'd it, I mean Instruction; In the Odyssey Homer appears to be the better Man, in the Iliad the better Poet.

This I take to be the meaning of the word διερος, which Eustathius explains by ζων και ερρωμενος, vivus & valens; or, he shall not be long-liv'd. But it may be ask'd how this character of valour in destroying their enemies, can agree with the Phæacians, an effeminate, unwarlike nation? Eustathius answers, that the protection of the Gods is the best defence, and upon this Nausicaa relies. But then it is necessary that man should co-operate with the Gods; for it is in vain to rely upon the Gods for safety, if we our selves make not use of means proper for it: whereas the Phæacians were a people wholly given up to luxury and pleasures. The true reason then of Nausicaa's praise of the Phæacians may perhaps be drawn from that honourable partiality, and innate love which every person feels for his country. She knew no people greater than the Phæacians, and having ever liv'd in full security from enemies, she concludes that it is not in the power of enemies to disturb that security.

This is a very remarkable passage, full of such a pious generosity as the wisest teach, and the best practise. I am sensible it may be understood two ways; and in both, it bears an excellent instruction. The words are, the poor and stranger are from Jove, and a small gift is acceptable to them, or acceptable to Jupiter, Διι φελη. I have chosen the latter, in conformity to the eastern way of thinking: He that hath pity upon the poor lendeth unto the Lord, as it is expressed in the Proverbs.

This place seems contradictory to the practice of Antiquity, and other passages in the Odyssey: Nothing is more frequent than for Heroes to make use of the ministry of damsels in bathing, as appears from Polycaste and Telemachus, &c. Whence is it then that Ulysses commands the attendants of Nausicaa to withdraw while he bathes? Spondanus is of opinion, that the Poet intended to condemn an indecent custom of those ages solemnly by the mouth of so wise a person as Ulysses: but there is no other instance in all his works to confirm that conjecture. I am at a loss to give a better reason, unless the difference of the places might make an alteration in the action. It is possible that in baths prepared for publick use, there might be some convenience to defend the person who bath'd in some degree from observation, which might be wanting in an open river, so that the action might be more indecent in the one instance than in the other, and consequently occasion these words of Ulysses: But this is a conjecture, and submitted as such to the Reader's better judgment.

It may be ask'd why Ulysses prefers the river-waters in washing, to the waters of the sea, in the Odyssey; whereas in the tenth book of the Iliad, after the death of Dolon, Diomed and Ulysses prefer the sea-waters to those of the river? There is a different reason for this different regimen: In the Iliad, Ulysses was fatigued, and sweated with the labours of the night, and in such a case the sea-waters being more rough are more purifying and corroborating: But here Ulysses comes from the seas, and (as Plutarch in his Symposiacs observes upon this passage,) the more subtle and light particles exhale by the heat of the sun, but the rough and saline stick to the body, 'till wash'd away by fresh waters.

Poetry delights in the Marvellous, and ennobles the most ordinary subjects by dressing them with poetical ornaments, and giving them an adventitious dignity. The foundation of this fiction, of Ulysses receiving beauty from Pallas, is only this: The shipwreck and sufferings of Ulysses had changed his face and features, and his long fasting given him a pale and sorrowful aspect; but being bath'd, perfum'd, and dress'd in robes, he appears another man, full of life and beauty. This sudden change gave Homer the hint to improve it into a miracle; and he ascribes it to Minerva, to give a dignity to his Poetry. He further embellishes the description by a very happy comparison. Virgil has imitated it.

Scaliger, in the fifth book of his Poetics, prefers Virgil before Homer; and perhaps his opinion is just: Manus he says is more elegant than vir; and addunt ebori decus, than χαριεντα δε εργα τελειει. Os humerosque Deo similis, carries a nobler idea than Homer's μειζονα και πασσονα; and above all,

is inexpressibly beautiful.

It is said that this image is made by the assistance of Vulcan and Minerva: Why by two Deities? Eustathius answers, the first rudiments and formation of it in the fire is proper to Vulcan, and Minerva is the president of arts; Minerva gives the Artificer Wisdom in designing, and Vulcan skill in labouring and finishing the work.

This little circumstance, Eustathius observes is not without its effect; the Poet withdraws Ulysses, to give Nausicaa an opportunity to speak freely in his praise without a breach of modesty: She speaks apart to her damsels, and by this conduct, Ulysses neither hears his own commendation, which is a pain to all worthy spirits, nor does Nausicaa betray an indecent sensibility, because she speaks only to her own sex and attendants.

This passage has been censur'd as an outrage against Modesty and Credibility; Is it probable that a young Princess should fall in love with a stranger at the first sight? and if she really falls in love, is it not an indecent passion? I will lay before the Reader the observations of Plutarch upon it. “If Nausicaa, upon casting her eyes upon this stranger, and feeling such a passion for him as Calypso felt, talks thus out of wantonness, her conduct is blameable; but if perceiving his wisdom by his prudent address, she wishes for such an husband, rather than a person of her own country, who had no better qualifications than singing, dancing and dressing, she is to be commended.” This discovers no weakness, but prudence, and a true judgment. She deserves to be imitated by the fair sex, who ought to prefer a good understanding, before a fine coat, and a man of worth, before a good dancer.

Besides, it may be offer'd in vindication of Nausicaa, that she had in the morning been assured by a vision from Heaven, that her nuptials were at hand; this might induce her to believe that Ulysses was the person intended by the vision for her husband; and his good sense and prudent behaviour, as Dacier observes, might make her wish it, without any imputation of immodesty.

This passage is not without its difficulty: But the Scholiast upon Dionysius Perigetes gives us a full explication of it. Δυο λιμενας εχει η φαιακις, τον μεν Αλκινοου, τον δε Ψ(λλου, διο, φησι Καλλιμαχος αμφιδυμος φαιαξ. The Island of Phæacia has two ports, the one called the port of Alcinous, the other of Hyllus; thus Callimachus calls it the place of two ports. And Apollonius for the same reason calls it αμφιλαφης, or the place which is enter'd by two ports. Dacier.

It is very judicious in the Poet to let us thus fully into the character of the Phæacians, before he comes to show what relation they have to the story of the Odyssey: He describes Alcinous and the people of better rank, as persons of great hospitality and humanity, this gives an air of probability to the free and benevolent reception which Ulysses found: He describes the vulgar as excellent navigators; and he does this not only because they are Islanders; but, as Eustathius observes, to prepare the way for the return of Ulysses, who was to be restored by their conduct to his country, even against the inclination of Neptune, the God of the Ocean. But it may be ask'd, is not Homer inconsistent with himself, when he paints the Phæacians as men of the utmost humanity, and immediately after calls them a proud unpolish'd race; and given up to censoriousness? It is easy to reconcile the seeming contradiction, by applying the character of humanity to the higher rank of the nation, and the other to the vulgar and the mariners. I believe the same character holds good to this day amongst any people who are much addicted to sea-affairs; they contract a roughness, by being secluded from the more general converse of mankind, and consequently are strangers to that affability, which is the effect of a more enlarg'd conversation. But what is it that inclines the Phæacians to be censorious? It is to be remember'd, that they are every where describ'd as a people abandon'd to idleness; To idleness therefore that part of their character is to be imputed. When the thoughts are not employed upon things, it is usual to turn them upon persons: A good man has not the inclination, an industrious man not the leisure, to be censorious, so that censure is the property of idleness. This I take to be the moral, intended to be drawn from the character of the Phæacians.

This is an instance of the great art of Homer, in saying every thing properly. Nausicaa had conceiv'd a great esteem for Ulysses, and she had an inclination to let him know it; but modesty forbad her to reveal it openly: How then shall Ulysses know the value she has for his person, consistently with the modesty of Nausicaa? Homer with great address puts her compliments into the mouth of the Phæacians, and by this method she speaks her own sentiments, as the sentiments of the Phæacians: Nausicaa, as it were, is withdrawn, and a whole nation introduced for a more general praise of Ulysses.

Eustathius remarks, that the compliments of Nausicaa answer the compliments made to her by Ulysses: he resembled her to Diana, he him to the Gods. But it may be ask'd, are not both these extravagancies? and is it not beyond all credibility that Nausicaa should be thought a Goddess, or Ulysses a God? In these ages it would be judg'd extravagant, but it is to be remember'd that in the days of Homer every grove, river, fountain, and oak-tree were thought to have their peculiar Deities; this makes such relations as these more reconcilable, if not to truth, at least to the opinions of Antiquity, which is sufficient for Poetry.

This is an admirable picture of ancient female life among the Orientals; the Virgins were very retir'd, and never appear'd amongst men but upon extraordinary occasions, and then always in the presence of the father or mother: But when they were married, says Eustathius, they had more liberty. Thus Helen converses freely with Telemachus and Pisistratus, and Penelope sometimes with the suitors. Nausicaa delivers her judgment sententiously, to give it more weight; what can be more modest than these expressions? And yet they have been greatly traduc'd by Monsieur Perrault, a French Critic; he translates the passage so as to imply that “Nausicaa disapproves of a Virgin's lying with a man without the permission of her father, before marriage;” ανδρασι μισγεσθαι led him into this mistake, which is sometimes used in such a signification, but here it only means Conversation: if the word μισγεσθαι signified more than keeping company, it would be more ridiculous, as Boileau observes upon Longinus, than Perrault makes it: for it is join'd to ανδρασι, and then it would infer that Nausicaa disapproves of a young woman's lying with several men before she was married, without the licence of her father. The passage, continues Boileau, is full of honour and decency: Nausicaa has a design to introduce Ulysses to her father, she tells him she goes before to prepare the way for his reception, but that she must not be seen to enter the city in his company, for fear of giving offence, which a modest woman ought not to give: A virtuous woman is obliged not only to avoid immodesty, but the appearance of it; and for her part she could not approve of a young woman keeping company with men without the permission of her father or mother, before she was married. Thus the indecency is not in Homer, but the Critic: it is indeed in Homer an excellent lecture of Modesty and Morality.

Eustathius and Dacier are both of opinion, that Nausicaa had conceiv'd a passion for Ulysses: I think this passage is an evidence that she rather admir'd and esteem'd, than lov'd him; for it is contrary to the nature of that passion to give directions for the departure of the person belov'd, but rather to invent excuses to prolong his stay. 'Tis true Nausicaa had wish'd in the foregoing parts of this book, that she might have Ulysses for her husband, or such an husband as Ulysses: but this only shews that she admir'd his accomplishments, nor could she have added such a spouse as he, at all, if her affections had been engag'd and fix'd upon Ulysses only. This likewise takes off the objection of a too great fondness in Nausicaa; for it might have appeared too great a fondness to have fall'n in love at the first with an absolute stranger.

This little circumstance, seemingly of small importance, is not without its beauty. It is natural for a daughter to apply to the mother, rather than the father: Women are likewise generally of a compassionate nature, and therefore the Poet first interests the Queen in the cause of Ulysses. At the same time he gives a pattern of conjugal affection, in the union between Arete and Alcinous.

We see the Ancients held a subordination amongst the Deities, and tho' different in inclinations, yet they act in harmony: One God resists not another Deity. This is more fully explain'd, as Eustathius observes, by Euripides, in his Hippolytus; where Diana says, it is not the custom of the Gods to resist one the other, when they take vengeance even upon the favourites of other Deities. The late tempest that Neptune had rais'd for the destruction of Ulysses, was an instance of Neptune's implacable anger: this makes Minerva take such measures as to avoid an open opposition, and yet consult the safety of Ulysses: She descends, but it is secretly.

This book opens with the Introduction of Ulysses to Alcinous; every step the Poet takes carries on the main design of the Poem, with a progress so natural, that each incident seems really to have happen'd, and not to be invention. Thus Nausicaa accidentally meets Ulysses, and introduces him to Alcinous her father, who lands him in Ithaca: It is possible this might be true History; the Poet might build upon a real foundation, and only adorn the truth with the ornaments of Poetry. It is to be wish'd, that a faithful History of the Trojan war, and the voyages of Ulysses had been transmitted to posterity; it would have been the best comment upon the Iliad and Odyssey. We are not to look upon the Poems of Homer as meer romances, but as true stories, heighten'd and beautify'd by Poetry: Thus the Iliad is built upon a real dissention, that happen'd in a real war between Greece and Troy; and the Odyssey upon the real voyages of Ulysses, and the disorders that happen'd thro' his absence in his own country. Nay, it is not impossible but that many of those incidents that seem most extravagant in Homer, might have an appearing truth, and be justify'd by the opinions, and mistaken credulity of those ages. What is there in all Homer more seemingly extravagant, than the story of the race of the Cyclops, with one broad eye in their foreheads? and yet, as Sir Walter Raleigh very judiciously conjectures, this may be built upon a seeming truth: They were a people of Sicily remarkable for savageness and cruelty, and perhaps might in their wars make use of a headpiece or vizor, which had but one sight in it, and this might give occasion to sailors who coasted those shores to mistake the single sight of the vizor, for a broad eye in the forehead, especially when they before look'd upon them as monsters for their barbarity. I doubt not but we lose many beauties in Homer for want of a real history, and think him extravagant, when he only complies with the opinions of former ages. I thought it necessary to make this observation, as a general vindication of Homer; especially in this place, immediately before he enters upon the relation of those stories which have been thought most to outrage credibility: if then we look upon the Odyssey as all fiction, we consider it unworthily; it ought to be read as a story founded upon truth, but adorn'd with the embellishments of Poetry, to convey instruction with pleasure the more effectually.

Eustathius remarks, that the Phæacians were people of great commerce, and that it was customary in those ages to exchange slaves in traffic; or perhaps Eurymedusa might be a captive, pyracy then being honourable, and such seizures of cattle or slaves frequent. The passage concerning the brothers of Nausicaa has not escaped the censure of the Criticks; Homer in the original calls them like Gods, and yet in the same breath gives them the employment of slaves, they unyoke the Mules, and carry into the Palace the burthens they brought. A twofold answer may be given to this objection, and this conduct might proceed from the general custom of the age, which made such actions reputable; or from the particular love the brothers bore their sister, which might induce them to act thus, as an instance of it.

It may be ask'd what occasion there is to make Ulysses invisible? Eustathius answers, not only to preserve him from insults as he was a stranger, but that he might raise a greater surprize in Alcinous by his sudden appearance. But, adds he, the whole is an allegory; and Ulysses wisely chusing the evening to enter unobserv'd, gave occasion to the Poet to bring in the goddess of wisdom to make him invisible.

Virgil has borrow'd this passage from Homer, and Venus renders Æneas invisible in the same manner as Minerva Ulysses. (Scaliger compares the two Authors, and prefers Virgil infinitely before Homer, in the fifth book of his Poetics.

Scaliger says the verses are more sonorous than Homer's, and that it was more necessary to make Æneas invisible than Ulysses, he being amongst a perfidious nation. But was not the danger as great from the rudeness of the Phæacians, as from the perfidiousness of the Carthaginians? Besides, Virgil does not mention the perfidiousness of the Carthaginians; so that it is the reason of Scaliger, not Virgil: and whether the verses be more sonorous, is submitted to the ear of the Reader. He is chiefly delighted with

Qui solus versus, says he, deterreat Græcos ab ea sententiâ, quâ suum contendunt præferendum. He allows Κερτομεοι τ' επεεσσι, &c. to be a tolerable smooth verse, Commodus & rasilis, but yet far inferior to this of Virgil.

It is but justice to lay the verses of Homer before the Reader.

I determine not which author has the greater beauty, but undoubtedly Homer is more happy in the occasion of the fiction than Virgil; Homer drew his description from the wisdom of Ulysses in entering the town in the evening, he was really invisible to the Phæacians, and Homer only heighten'd the truth by Poetry; but Virgil is more bold, and has no such circumstance to justify his relation; for Æneas went into Carthage in the open day.

It may be ask'd why Minerva does not appear as a Goddess, but in a borrow'd form? The Poet has already told us, that she dreaded the wrath of Neptune; one Deity could not openly oppose another Deity, and therefore she acts thus invisibly.

This circumstance is not inserted without a good effect: It could not but greatly encourage Ulysses to understand that he was arriv'd amongst a people that excell'd in navigation; this gave him a prospect of being speedily convey'd to his own country, by the assistance of a nation so expert in maritime affairs. Eustathius.

Scaliger in his Poeticks calls this an impertinent repetition, and commends Virgil for not imitating it, for Homer dwells upon it no less than three times; and indeed one would almost imagine that Virgil was of the same opinion, for he has follow'd the turn of this whole passage, and omitted this repetition: yet he treads almost step by step in the path of Homer, and Æneas and Ulysses are drawn in the same colours;

Homer poetically inserts the Topography of this city of the Phæacians: Tho' they were an unwarlike nation, yet they understand the art of fortification; their city is surrounded with a strong wall, and that wall guarded with palisades. But whence this caution, since Homer tells us in the preceding book, that they were in no danger of an enemy? It might arise from their very fears, which naturally suggest to cowards, that they cannot be too safe; this would make them practise the art of Fortification more assiduously than a more brave people, who usually put more confidence in valour than in walls, as was the practice of the Spartans.

As Deities ought not to be introduced without a necessity, so, when introduced, they ought to be employed in acts of importance, and worthy of their divinity: It may be ask'd if Homer observes this rule in this Episode, where a Goddess seems to appear only to direct Ulysses to the Palace of Alcinous, which, as he himself tells us, a child could have done? But the chief design of Minerva was to advise Ulysses in his present exigencies: and (as Eustathius remarks) she opens her speech to him with great and noble sentiments. She informs him how to win the favour of Alcinous, upon which depends the whole happiness of her Heroe; and by which she brings about his re-establishment in his kingdom, the aim of the whole Odyssey. Virgil makes use of the same method in his Æneis, and Venus there executes the same office for her son, as Minerva for her favourite, in some degree as a Guide, but chiefly as a Counsellor.

This passage is worthy of observation, as it discovers to us the time when the race of the ancient Giants perish'd; this Eurymedon was grandfather to Nausithous, the father of Alcinous; so that the Giants were extirpated forty or fifty years before the war of Troy. This exactly agrees with ancient story, which informs us, that Hercules and Theseus purg'd the earth from those monsters. Plutarch in his life of Theseus tells us, that they were men of great strength, and public robbers, one of whom was called the Bender of Pines. Now Theseus stole away Helen in her infancy, and consequently these Giants were destroy'd some years before the Trojan expedition. Dacier, Plutarch.

It is observable that this Arete was both wife and niece to Alcinous, an instance that the Græcians married with such near relations: The same appears from Demosthenes and other Greek Orators. But what then is the notion of incest amongst the Ancients? The collateral branch was not thought incestuous, for Juno was the wife and sister of Jupiter. Brothers likewise married their brother's wives, as Deiphobus Helen, after the death of Paris: the same was practis'd amongst the Jews, and consequently being permitted by Moses was not incestuous. So that the only incest was in the ascending, not collateral or descending branch; as when parents and children married; thus when Myrrha lay with her father, and Lot with his daughters, this was accounted incest. The reason is very evident, a child cannot pay the duty of a child to a parent, and at the same time of a wife or husband; nor can a father act with the authority of a father towards a person who is at once his wife and daughter. The relations interfere, and introduce confusion, where the law of nature and reason requires regularity.

This office of Arete has been look'd upon as somewhat extraordinary, that she should decide the quarrels of the subjects, a province more proper for Alcinous; and therefore the Ancients endeavour'd to soften it by different readings; and instead of οισιν τ' ευφροεησι, they inserted ησιν τ' ευφρονεοισι, or she decides amongst women. Eustathius in the text reads it in a third way, ησεν τ' ευφροσυνησι, or by her wisdom. Spondanus believes, that the Queen had a share in the government of the Phæacians; but Eustathius thinks the Poet intended to set the character of Arete in a fair point of light, she bearing the chief part in this book, and a great share in the sequel of the Odyssey: by this method he introduces her to the best advantage, and makes her a person of importance, and worthy to have a place in heroic Poetry; and indeed he has given her a very amiable character.

The Poet here opens a very agreeable scene, and describes the beauty of the Palace and Gardens of Alcinous. Diodorus Siculus adapts this passage to the Island Taprobane, Justin Martin to Paradise; Του Παραδεισου δε εικονα τον Αλκινοου κηπον σωζειν. He transcribes this whole passage into his Apology, but with some variation from the common Editions, for instead of

he reads

perhaps more elegantly. Eustathius observes that Homer suits his Poetry to the things he relates, for in the whole Iliad there is not a description of this nature, nor an opportunity to introduce it in a Poem that represents nothing but objects of terror and blood. The Poet himself seems to go a little out of the way to bring it into the Odyssey; for it has no necessary connection with the Poem, nor would it be less perfect if it had been omitted: but as Mercury, when he survey'd the bower of Calypso, ravish'd with the beauty of it, stood a while in a still admiration, so Homer, delighted with the scenes he draws, stands still a few moments, and suspends the story of the Poem, to enjoy the beauties of these gardens of Alcinous. But even here he shews his judgment, in not letting his fancy run out into a long description: He concludes the whole in the compass of twenty verses, and resumes the thread of his story. Rapine, I confess, censures this description of the gardens: he calls it Puerile and too light for Eloquence, that it is spun out to too great a length, and is somewhat affected, has no due coherence with, nor bears a just proportion to the whole, by reason of its being too glittering. This is spoken with too great severity: it is necessary to relieve the mind of the reader sometimes with gayer scenes, that it may proceed with a fresh appetite to the succeeding entertainment: In short, if it be a fault, it is a beautiful fault; and Homer may be said here, as he was upon another occasion by St. Augustin, to be dulcissimè vanus. The admiration of the gold and silver is no blemish to Ulysses: for, as Eustathius remarks, it proceeds not out of avarice, but from the beauty of the work, and usefulness and magnificence of the buildings. The whole description, continues he, suits the character of the Phæacians, a proud, luxurious people, delighted with shew and ostentation.

We have already seen that dogs were kept as a piece of state, from the instance of those that attended Telemachus: Here Alcinous has images of dogs in gold, for the ornament of his palace; Homer animates them in his Poetry; but to soften the description, he introduces Vulcan, and ascribes the Wonder to the power of a God. If we take the poetical dress away, the truth is, that these dogs were form'd with such excellent art, that they seem'd to be alive, and Homer by a liberty allowable to Poetry describes them as really having that life, which they only have in appearance. In the Iliad he speaks of living Tripods with greater boldness. Eustathius recites another opinion of some of the Ancients, who thought these Κυνες not to be animals, but a kind of large nails (ν(/λους) or iron pins, made use of in buildings, and to this day the name is retain'd by builders, as Dogs of iron, &c. It is certain the words will bear this interpretation, but the former is more after the spirit of Homer, and more noble in Poetry. Besides, if the latter were intended, it would be absurd to ascribe a work of so little importance to a Deity.

The Poet does not say of what materials these thrones were made, whether of gold or silver, to avoid the imputation of being thought fabulous in his description; it being almost incredible, remarks Eustathius, that such quantities of gold and silver could be in the possession of such a King as Alcinous; tho', if we consider that his people were greatly given to navigation, the relation may come within the bounds of credibility.

This is a remarkable piece of grandeur: Lamps, as appears from the 18th of the Odyssey, were not at this time known to the Grecians, but only Torches; these were held by Images in the shape of beautiful youths, and those Images were of gold. Lucretius has translated these verses.

It is admirable to observe with what propriety Homer adapts his Poetry to the characters of his persons: Nestor is a wise man; when he is first seen in the Odyssey, it is at a sacrifice, and there is not the least appearance of pomp or luxury in his palace or entertainments. The Phæacians are of an opposite character, and the Poet describes them consistently with it; they are all along a proud, idle, effeminate people; tho' such a pompous description would have ill suited the wise Nestor, it excellently agrees with the vain Alcinous.

There is some obscurity in this short allusion, and some refer it to the work, others to the damsels employ'd in work: Eustathius is of the opinion that it alludes to the damsels, and expresses the quick and continued motion of their hands: I have follow'd this interpretation, and think that Homer intended to illustrate that quick and intermingled motion, by comparing them to the branches of a Poplar agitated by winds, all at once in motion, some bending this, some that way. The other interpretations are more forc'd, and less intelligible.

This passage is not without difficulty: some of the ancients understood it to signify the thickness and closeness of the texture, which was so compactly wrought that Oil could not penetrate it; others thought it expressed the smoothness and softness of it, as if Oil seem'd to flow from it; or lastly, that it shone with such a glossy colour as look'd like Oil. Dacier renders the verse according to the opinion first recited.

Any of these interpretations make the passage intelligible, (tho' I think the description does better without it.) It is left to the judgment of the Reader which to prefer; they are all to be found in Eustathius.

We may gather from what Homer here relates concerning the skill of these Phæacian damsels, that they were fam'd for these works of curiosity: The Corcyrians were much given to traffic, and perhaps they might bring slaves from the Sidonians, who instructed them in these manufactures. Dacier.

This famous Garden of Alcinous contains no more than four acres of ground, which in those times of simplicity was thought a large one even for a Prince. It is laid out, as Eustathius observes, into three parts: a grove for fruits and shade, a vineyard, and an allotment for olives and herbs. It is water'd with two fountains, the one supplies the palace and town, the other the garden and the flowers. But it may be ask'd what reality there is in the relation, and whether any trees bear fruit all the year in this Island? Eustathius observes, that experience teaches the contrary, and that it is only true of the greatest part of the year; Homer, adds he, disguises the true situation of the Phæacians, and here describes it as one of the happy Islands; at once to enrich his Poetry, and to avoid a discovery of his Poetical exaggeration. The relation is true of other places, if Pliny and Theophrastus deserve credit, as Dacier observes; thus the Citron bears during the whole year fruits and flowers. Arbos ipsa omnibus horis pomifera, aliis cadentibus, aliis maturescentibus, aliis vero subnascentibus. The same is related of other trees by Pliny: Novnsque fructus in his cum Annotino pendet; he affirms the like of the Pine, habet fructum maturescentum, habet proximo anno ad maturitatem venturum, ac deinde tertio, &c. So that what Homer relates is in it self true, tho' not entirely of Phæacia. Or perhaps it might be only intended for a more beautiful and poetical manner of describing the constant succession of one after another in a fertile climate.

Aristotle apply'd this Hemistic scoffingly to the sycophants of Athens: he was about to leave that city upon its rejoicing at the death of Socrates; and, quoting this verse, he said he would not live in a place where

alluding to the derivation of the word Sycophant.

To understand this passage aright, it is necessary to know the manner of ordering the vintage amongst the Greeks: First, they carried all the grapes they gather'd into an house for a season; afterwards they exposed them ten days to the sun, and let them lye abroad as many nights in the freshness of the air; then they kept them five days in cool shades, and on the sixth they trod them, and put the wine into vessels: This we learn from Hesiod: εργων, verse 227.

Homer distinguishes the whole into three orders: First, the grapes that have already been expos'd to the sun are trod; the second order is of the grapes that are exposed, while the others are treading; and the third, of those that are ripe to be gather'd, while the others are thus ordering. Homer himself thus explains it, by saying, that while some vines were loaded with black and mature grapes, others were green, or but just turning to blackness. Homer undoubtedly founds this poetical relation upon observing some vines that bore fruit thrice annually. Pliny affirms this to be true, lib. 16. cap. 27. Vites quidem & triferæ sunt, quas ob id insanas vocant, quoniam in iis aliæ maturescunt, aliæ turgescunt, aliæ florent.

I have already explain'd from Athenæus this custom of offering to Mercury at the conclusion of entertainments: he was thought by the Ancients to preside over sleep: dat somnos adimitque, according to Horace, as Dacier observes: In following ages this practice was alter'd, and they offer'd not to Mercury, but to Jove the Perfecter, or to Ζευς τελειος

If this whole story of the veil of air had been told simply and nakedly, it would imply no more than that Ulysses arriv'd without being discover'd; and the breaking of the veil denotes his first coming into sight, in the presence of the Queen. But Homer steps out of the vulgar road of an Historian, and cloaths it with a sublimity worthy of heroic Poetry. In the same manner Virgil discovers his Æneas to Dido;

Scaliger prefers these verses to those of Homer, and perhaps with good reason; he calls the last part of the second verse a divine addition; and indeed it is far more beautiful than the θεσφατος αης of Homer.

Minerva commanded Ulysses to supplicate the Queen: Why then does he exceed the directions of the Goddess, and not only address himself to Alcinous, but to the rest of the assembly? Spondanus answers, that Ulysses adapts himself to the present circumstances, and seeing the King and other Peers in the same assembly, he thought it improper not to take notice of them: he therefore addresses himself to all, that he may make all his friends. But then does not Minerva give improper directions? and is not Ulysses more wise than the Goddess of Wisdom? The true reason therefore may perhaps be, that Ulysses really complies with the injunctions of the Goddess: she commands him to address himself to the Queen; and he does so: this I take to mean chiefly or primarily, but not exclusively to the King: If the passage be thus understood, it solves the objection.

Ulysses here speaks very concisely; and he may seem to break abruptly into the subject of his petition, without letting the audience either into the knowledge of his condition or person. Was this a proper method to prevail over an assembly of strangers? But his gesture spoke for him, he threw himself into the posture of a suppliant, and the persons of all suppliants were esteem'd to be sacred: He declar'd himself to be a man in calamity, and reserves his story to be told more at large, when the surprize of the Phæacians at the sudden appearance of a stranger was over: this conciseness therefore is not blameable, but rather an instance of Homer's judgment, who knows when to be short, and when to be copious.

This was the custom of Suppliants: they betook themselves to the hearth as sacred, and a place of refuge. It was particularly in the protection of Vesta: Thus Tully, lib. 2. de Naturâ Deorum; Nomen Vestæ sumptum est a Græcis, ea est enim quæ illis εστια dicitur, jusque ejus ad aras, & focos pertines. Apollonius likewise, as Spondanus observes, takes notice of this custom of Suppliants.

That is, they betook themselves to the hearth, and there sate mute, which is the custom of all unhappy suppliants. If it was a custom, as Apollonius observes, to sit mute, this gives another reason why Ulysses used but few words in his supplication: he had greatly outrag'd a practice that was establish'd as sacred amongst the Greeks, and had not acted in the character of a Suppliant, if he had launch'd out into a long oration.

This was the most sure and effectual way of supplication; thus when Themistocles fled to Admetus King of the Molossians, he placed himself before the hearth, and was receiv'd, tho' that King had formerly vow'd his destruction. Plutarch indeed calls it an unusual way of supplication, but that proceeded from his carrying a child in his arms to move the greater compassion, not from his throwing himself into the protection of the Household-Gods.

The expression in the original, as Dacier observes, is remarkable: Echeneus an old man, who knew many ancient, and great variety of things; he was wise by long experience, and by being conversant in ancient story: The Author of the book of Wisdom speaks almost in the same expressions: Scit præterita & de futuris æstimat.

Plutarch in his Symposiacs discusses a question, whether the Master of the feast should place his guests, or let them seat themselves promiscuously: He there commends this conduct of Alcinous, as an instance of a courteous disposition and great humanity, who gave a place of dignity to a stranger and suppliant.

We have already seen that the whole assembly was about to pour libations to Mercury, whence is it then that they now offer to Jupiter? Eustathius observes, it was because of the arrival of this stranger, and Jupiter presides over all strangers, and is frequently stil'd Ζευς ζενιος and Ζευς εστεουχος.

There is some intricacy in this passage, and much labor has been used to explain it. Some would have it to imply, that “we are as nearly ally'd to the Gods, as the Cyclops and Giants, who are descended from them; and if the Gods frequently appear to these Giants who defy them; how much more may it be expected by the Phæacians to enjoy that favour, who reverence and adore them?” Eustathius explains it after another method; Alcinous had conceiv'd a fix'd hatred against the race of the Cyclops, who had expell'd the Phæacians from their country, and forc'd them to seek a new habitation; he here expresses that hatred, and says, that the Phæacians resemble the Gods as much in goodness, as the Cyclops and Giants one the other in impiety: He illustrates it, by shewing that the expression has the same import as if we should say that Socrates comes as near to Plato in virtue, as Anytus and Melitus to one another in wickedness; and indeed the construction will be easy, by understanding 'Αλληλοις in the second verse.

I have already spoken of the presence of the Gods at the sacrifices, in a former note upon the Odyssey: This frequent intercourse of the Gods was agreeable to the Theology of the Ancients; but why then is Alcinous surpriz'd at the appearance of Ulysses, whom he looks upon as a God, if such favours were frequent? Spondanus replies, that it is the unusualness of the time, not the appearance, that surprizes Alcinous; the Gods appear'd either at their sacrifices, or in their journeys, and therefore he looks upon this visit as a thing extraordinary.

It is very necessary to recall frequently to the reader's mind the desire Ulysses has to reach his own country; and to shew that he is absent not by choice, but necessity, all the disorders in his kingdoms happen by reason of his absence: it is therefore necessary to set the desire of his return in the strongest point of light, that he may not seem accessary to those disorders, by being absent when it was in his power to return. It is observable that Ulysses does not here make any mention of Penelope, whom he scarce ever omits in other places, as one of the chief inducements to wish for his country; the reason of his silence, says Eustathius, is, because he is unwilling to abate the favour of Alcinous, by a discovery that would shew it was impossible for him to marry his daughter; such a discovery might make the King proceed more cooly towards his transportation; whereas it would afterwards be less dangerous, when he has had an opportunity fully to engage him in his favour.

Æneas in Virgil speaks to Venus after the same manner, as Ulysses to Arete.

Scaliger observes that Virgil so far exceeds the verses of Homer, that they will not even bear a comparison; he is superior almost in every word: for instance; he renders διηνεκεως, by primâ ab origine, and adds the word vacet beautifully; and still more beautifully he translates πολλα κηδεα, annales nostrorum audire laborum; and lastly he paraphrases the word αργαλεον by a most harmonious line,

which excellently describes the multitude of the sufferings of Æneas, which could not be comprehended in the relation of a whole day.

I will not deny but that Virgil excels Homer in this and many other passages which he borrows from him: but then is it a just conclusion to infer, after the manner of Scaliger, that Virgil is a better Poet than Homer? To conclude from particulars to generals is a false way of arguing. It is as if in a comparison of two persons, a man should from single features give a superiority of beauty, which is only to be gather'd from the symmetry of the whole body.

Homer here gives a summary of the subject of the two preceding books: this recapitulation cannot indeed be avoided, because it is necessary to let Alcinous into his story, and this cannot be done without a repetition; but generally all repetitions are tedious: The Reader is offended when that is related which he knows already, he receives no new instruction to entertain his judgment, nor any new descriptions to excite his curiosity, and by these means the very soul of Poetry is extinguish'd, and it becomes unspirited and lifeless. When therefore repetitions are absolutely necessary, they ought always to be short; and I may appeal to the Reader if he is not tir'd with many in Homer, especially when made in the very same words? Here indeed Ulysses tells his story but in part; the Queen ask'd him who he was, but he passes over this without any reply, and reserves the greatest part of his story to a time of more leisure, that he may discover himself to a better advantage before the whole Peerage of the Phæacians. I do not always condemn even the verbal repetitions of Homer, sometimes as in embassies they may be necessary, because every word is stamp'd with authority, and perhaps they might be customary in Homer's times; if they were not, he had too fruitful an invention not to have varied his thoughts and expressions. Bossu observes, that with respect to repetitions Virgil is more exact than Homer; for instance, in the first book of the Æneis, when Æneas is repeating his sufferings to Venus, she interrupts him to give him comfort;

and in the third book, where good manners oblig'd this Heroe to relate his story at the request of Andromache, the Poet prevents it by introducing Helenus, who hinders the repetition.

Homer has the secret art of introducing the best instructions, in the midst of the plainest narrations. He has describ'd the unworthy passion of the Goddess Calypso, and the indecent advances she made to detain him from his country. It is possible this relation might make some impressions upon the mind of the Reader, inconsistent with exact Morality; What antidote then does Homer administer to expell this poison? He does not content himself with setting the chastity of Penelope in opposition to the loose desires of Calypso, and shewing the great advantage the Mortal has over the Goddess; but he here discovers the fountain from whence this weakness rises, by saying, that neither man nor Gods frequented this Island: on one hand the absence of the Gods, and on the other the infrequency of objects made her yield at the sight of the first that appears. Every object is dangerous in solitude, especially, as Homer expresses it, if we have no commerce with the Gods. Dacier.

Dacier, from Eustathius, assigns the reason of the refusal of Ulysses to comply with the proffers of Calypso, to forsake his wife and country: It was, because he knew that women in love promise more than they either can, or intend to perform. An insinuation, that he would have comply'd if he had thought the Goddess would, or could, have perform'd her promises. But this is contrary to the character of Ulysses, whose greatest Glory it is, not to have listen'd even to a Goddess. In this view he ceases to be an Heroe, and his return is no longer a virtue, but he returns only because he found not a temptation sufficient to keep him from his country.

In the preceding line Ulysses speaks of Nausicaa, yet immediately changes the words into the Masculine gender, for grammatically it ought to be νεωτερην αντιασασαν. Homer makes this alteration to pay the greater compliment to Nausicaa, and he intends to express by it, that neither woman nor man of her years could be expected to have such remarkable discretion.

Such sentences being very frequent in the Odyssey; it may not be improper to observe, of what beauty a sentence is in Epic Poetry. A Sentence may be defin'd, a moral instruction couch'd in few words. Rapine asserts, that sentences are more proper in Dramatic than Heroic Poetry: for Narration is the essential character of it, and it ought to be one continued thread of discourse, simple and natural, without an affectation of figures, or moral reflections: that energy which some pretend to collect and inclose within a small compass of words, is wont extremely to weaken the rest of the discourse, and give it a forc'd air: it seems to jut out of the structure of the Poem, and to be independent of it: he blames Homer for scattering his sentences too plentifully thro' his Poesy, and calls it an affectation and imperfection.

These objections would undoubtedly be of weight, if the sentences were so introduc'd as to break the thread of narration, as Rapine rightly observes. But is this the case with relation to Homer? He puts them into the mouth of the Actors themselves, and the narration goes on without the least interruption: It is not the Poet who speaks, nor does he suspend the narration to make a refin'd reflection, or give us a sentence of Morality. Is his Poetry the worse, because he makes his agents speak weightily and sententiously? It is true, sentences used without moderation are absurd in Epic Poetry; they give it a seriousness that is more becoming the gravity of Philosophers, than the Spirit and Majesty of Poetry. Bossu judiciously observes, that such thoughts have in their very nature a certain kind of calm Wisdom that is contrary to the passions; but says he, sentences make a Poem useful, and it seems natural to imagine, that the more a work is embellish'd with them, the more it deserves that general approbation which Horace promises to those who have the art to mix the profitable with the pleasant. In short, sentences are not only allowable but beautiful in Heroic Poetry, if they are introduc'd with propriety, and without affectation.

This is directly contrary to what is before asserted in the preceding book, where Nausicaa forbids Ulysses to attend her, to avoid suspicion and slander: Is not Ulysses then guilty of falshood, and is not falshood beneath the character of a Heroe? Eustathius confesses that Ulysses is guilty φανερως ψενδεται, and he adds, that a wise man may do so sometimes opportunely. Οπες αν ποιησει εν καιρω ο σοφος. I fear this concession of the Bishop's would not pass for good casuistry in these ages. Spondanus is of the same opinion as Eustathius; Vir prudens certo loco & tempore mendaciis officiosissimis uti novit. Dacier confesses that he somewhat disguises the truth. It will be difficult to vindicate Ulysses from the imputation, if the notions of truth and falshood were as strict in former, as in these ages: but we must not measure by this standard: It is certain that anciently Lying was reckon'd no crime by a whole nation; and it still bears a dispute, An omne falsi-loquium sit mendacium? Some Casuists allow of the officiosum mendacium, and such is this of Ulysses, entirely complemental and officious.

The Ancients observe, that Alcinous very artfully inserts this proposition to Ulysses, to prove his veracity. If he had embraced it without hesitation, he would have concluded him an impostor; for it is not conceivable that he should reject all the temptations to marriage made him by Calypso a Goddess, and yet immediately embrace this offer of Alcinous to marry his daughter. But if we take the passage in another sense, and believe that Alcinous spoke sincerely without any secret suspicions, yet his conduct is justifiable. It has I confess appear'd shocking, that Alcinous, a King, should at the very first interview offer his daughter to a stranger, who might be a vagrant and impostor: But examples are frequent in Antiquity of marriages thus concluded between strangers, and with as little hesitation: Thus Bellerophon, Tydeus, and Polinyces were married. Great personages regarded not riches, but were only sollicitous to procure worthy Husbands for their daughters, and birth and virtue were the best recommendations.

It is observable that in the original there is a Chasm, an Infinitive mood without any thing to govern it; we must therefore supply the word εθελοις to make it right construction.

Eubæa, as Eustathius observes, is really far distant from Corcyra, the country of the Phæacians: But Alcinous still makes it more distant, by placing it in another part of the world, and describing it as one of the fortunate Islands; for in the fourth book Rhadamanthus is said to inhabit the Elysian fields. Alcinous therefore endeavours to have it believ'd that his Isle is near those fields, by asserting that Rhadamanthus made use of Phæacian vessels in his voyage to Tityus, Eustathius further adds, that Rhadamanthus was a Prince of great justice, and Tityus a person of great impiety, and that he made this voyage to bring him over to more virtuous dispositions.

If Homer had given the true situation of Corcyra as it really lies opposite to Epirus, yet the Hyperbole of sailing thence to Eubæa and returning in the same day, had been utterly an impossibility; for in sailing thither they must pass the Ionian and Icarian seas, and double the Peloponnesus. But the fiction is yet more extravagant, by the Poet's placing it still more distant near the Fortunate Islands. But what is impossible for vessels to effect, that are as swift as birds, and can sail with the rapidity of a thought?

But then is the Poet justifiable for relating such incredible amplifications? It may be answer'd, if he had put these extravagancies into the mouth of Ulysses, he had been unpardonable, but they suit well with the character of Alcinous: They let Ulysses into his disposition, and he appears to be ignorant, credulous, and ostentatious. This was necessary, that Ulysses might know how to adapt himself to his humour, and engage his assistance; and this he actually brings about by raising his wonder and esteem by stories, that could not fail to please such an ignorant and credulous person as Alcinous.

Dacier adds, that the Phæacians were so puff'd up with their constant felicity and the protection of the Gods, that they thought nothing impossible; upon this opinion all these Hyperboles are founded: And this agrees too well with human nature; the more happy men are, the more high and extravagantly they talk, and are too apt to entertain themselves with wild Chimæra's which have no existence but in the Imagination.

The moral then of these fables of Alcinous is, that a constant series of happiness intoxicates the mind, and that moderation is often learn'd in the school of adversity.

It is observable, that Ulysses makes no reply directly to the obliging proposition which the King made concerning his daughter. A refusal might have been disadvantageous to his present circumstances, yet an answer is imply'd in this prayer, which shews the impatience he has to return to his country, and the gratitude he feels for his promises to effect it: and consequently it discovers that he has no intentions of settling with his daughter amongst the Phæacians. Dacier.

It may seem somewhat extraordinary, that Alcinous and his Queen who have been describ'd as patterns of conjugal happiness should sleep in distinct beds. Jupiter and Juno, as Dacier observes from the first of the Iliad, have the same bed. Perhaps the Poet design'd to shew the luxury and false delicacy of those too happy Phæacians, who liv'd in such softness that they shunn'd every thing that might prove troublesome or incommodious.

This book takes up no longer time than the evening of the thirty second day.

It may seem somewhat extraordinary, that Alcinous and his Queen who have been describ'd as patterns of conjugal happiness should sleep in distinct beds. Jupiter and Juno, as Dacier observes from the first of the Iliad, have the same bed. Perhaps the Poet design'd to shew the luxury and false delicacy of those too happy Phæacians, who liv'd in such softness that they shunn'd every thing that might prove troublesome or incommodious.

This book takes up no longer time than the evening of the thirty second day.