University of Virginia Library


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THE TWENTY-FIRST BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

This Book is entirely different from all the foregoing: Tho' it be a Battel, it is entirely of a new and surprizing kind, diversify'd with a vast Variety of Imagery and Description. The Scene is totally chang'd, he paints the Combate of his Hero with the Rivers, and describes a Battel amidst an Inundation. It is observable that tho' the whole War of the Iliad was upon the Banks of these Rivers, Homer has artfully left out the Machinery of River-Gods in all the other Battels, to aggrandize this of his Hero. There is no Book of the Poem that has more force of Imagination, or in which the great and inexhausted Invention of our Author is more powerfully exerted. After this Description of an Inundation, there follows a very beautiful Contrast in that of the Drought: The Part of Achilles is admirably sustain'd, and the new Strokes which Homer gives to his Picture are such as are deriv'd from the very source of his Character, and finish the entire Draught of this Hero.

How far all that appears wonderful or extravagant in this Episode, may be reconcil'd to Probability, Truth, and natural Reason, will be consider'd in a distinct Note on that Head: The Reader may find it on V. 447.


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The ARGUMENT.

The Battel in the River Scamander.

The Trojans fly before Achilles, some towards the Town, others to the River Scamander: He falls upon the latter with great slaughter, takes twelve captives alive, to sacrifice to the Manes of Patroclus; and kills Lycaon and Asteropæus. Scamander attacks him with all his waves; Neptune and Pallas assist the Hero; Simois joins Scamander; at length Vulcan, by the instigation of Juno, almost dries up the River. This Combate ended, the other Gods engage each other. Meanwhile Achilles continues the slaughter, drives the rest into Troy; Agenor only makes a stand, and is convey'd away in a cloud by Apollo; who (to delude Achilles) takes upon him Agenor's shape, and while he pursues him in that disguise, gives the Trojans an opportunity of retiring into their City.

The same Day continues. The Scene is on the Banks, and in the Stream, of Scamander.


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And now to Xanthus' gliding Stream they drove,

Verse 2. Xanthus, immortal Progeny of Jove.] The River is here said to be the Son of Jupiter, on account of its being supply'd with Waters that fall from Jupiter, that is, from Heaven. Eustathius.

Xanthus, Immortal Progeny of Jove.

The River here divides the scatt'ring Train.
Part to the Town fly diverse o'er the Plain,
Where late their Troops triumphant bore the Fight,
Now chac'd, and trembling in ignoble flight:
(These with a gather'd Mist Saturnia shrouds,
And rolls behind the Rout a Heap of Clouds)
Part plunge into the Stream: Old Xanthus roars,
The flashing Billows beat the whiten'd Shores:

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With Cries promiscuous all the Banks resound,
And here, and there, in Eddies whirling round,
The flouncing Steeds and shrieking Warriors drown'd

Verse 14. As the scorch'd Locusts, &c.] Eustathius observes that several Countries have been much infested with Armies of Locusts; and that, to prevent their destroying the Fruits of the Earth, the Countrymen by kindling large Fires drove them from their Fields; the Locusts to avoid the intense Heat were forc'd to cast themselves into the Water. From this Observation the Poet draws his Allusion which is very much to the Honour of Achilles, since it represents the Trojans with respect to him as no more than so many Insects.

The same Commentator takes notice, that because the Island of Cyprus in particular was us'd to practise this Method with the Locusts, some Authors have conjectur'd that Homer was of that Country; but if this were a sufficient Reason for such a Supposition, he might be said to be born in almost all the Countries of the World, since he draws his Observations from the Customs of them all.

We may hence account for the innumerable Armies of these Locusts, mention'd among the Plagues of Ægypt, without having recourse to an immediate Creation, as some good Men have imagin'd, whereas the Miracle indeed consists in the wonderful manner of bringing them upon the Ægyptians: I have often observ'd with Pleasure the Similitude which many of Homer's Expressions bear with the holy Scriptures, and that the oldest Writer in the World except Moses often speaks in the Idiom of Moses: Thus as the Locusts in Exodus are said to be driven into the Seas, so in Homer they are forc'd into a River.

As the scorch'd Locusts from their Fields retire,

While fast behind them runs the Blaze of Fire;
Driv'n from the Land before the smoky Cloud,
The clust'ring Legions rush into the Flood:
So plung'd in Xanthus by Achilles' Force,
Roars the resounding Surge with Men and Horse.
His bloody Lance the Hero casts aside,
(Which spreading Tam'risks on the Margin hide)
Then like a God, the rapid Billows braves,
Arm'd with his Sword, high-brandish'd o'er the Waves;
Now down he plunges, now he whirls it round,
Deep groan the Waters with the dying Sound;
Repeated Wounds the red'ning River dy'd,
And the warm Purple circled on the Tyde.
Swift thro' the foamy Flood the Trojans fly,
And close in Rocks or winding Caverns lye.

Verse 30. So the huge Dolphin, &c.] It is observable with what Justness the Author diversifies his Comparisons, according to the different Scenes and Elements he is engag'd in: Achilles has been hitherto on the Land, and compar'd to Land Animals, a Lyon, &c. Now he is in the Water, the Poet derives his Images from thence, and likens him to a Dolphin. Eustathius.

So the huge Dolphin tempesting the Main,

In Shoals before him fly the scaly Train,

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Confus'dly heap'd, they seek their immost Caves,
Or pant and heave beneath the floating Waves.

Verse 34. Now tir'd with Slaughter.] This is admirably well suited to the Character of Achilles, his Rage bears him headlong on the Enemy, he kills all that oppose him, and stops not till Nature itself could not keep pace with his Anger; he had determin'd to reserve twelve noble Youths to sacrifice them to the Manes of Patroclus, but his Resentment gives him no time to think of them, till the hurry of his Passion abates, and he is tir'd with Slaughter: Without this Circumstance, I think an Objection might naturally be rais'd, that in the time of a Pursuit Achilles gave the Enemy too much Leisure to escape, while he busy'd himself with tying these Prisoners: Tho' it is not absolutely necessary to suppose he did this with his own Hands.

Now tir'd with Slaughter, from the Trojan Band

Verse 35. Twelve chosen Youths.] This piece of Cruelty in Achilles has appear'd shocking to many, and indeed is what I think can only be excus'd by considering the ferocious and vindictive Spirit of this Hero. 'Tis however certain that the Cruelties exercis'd on Enemies in War were authoriz'd by the military Laws of those Times; nay Religion itself became a Sanction to them. It is not only the fierce Achilles, but the pious and religious Æneas, whose very Character is Virtue and Compassion, that reserves several young unfortunate Captives taken in Battel, to sacrifice them to the Manes of his favourite Hero.

Æn. 10. V. 517.
------ Sulmone creatos
Quattuor hic juvenes, totidem quos educat Ufens
Viventes rapit; inferias quos immolet umbris,
Captivoque rogi perfundat sanguine flammas.

And

Æn. 11. V. 81.
Vinxerat & post terga manus, quos mitteret umbris,
Inferias, cæso sparsuros sanguine flammam.

And (what is very particular) the Latin Poet expresses no Disapprobation of the Action, which the Grecian does in plain terms, speaking of this in Iliad 23. V. 176.

------ Κακα δε φρεσι μηδετο εεργα.
Twelve chosen Youths he drags alive to Land;

With their rich Belts their Captive Arms constrains,
(Late their proud Ornaments, but now their Chains.)
These his Attendants to the Ships convey'd,
Sad Victims! destin'd to Patroclus' Shade.
Then, as once more he plung'd amid the Flood,

Verse 41. The young Lycaon , &c.] Homer has a wonderful Art and Judgment in contriving such Incidents as set the characteristick Qualities of his Heroes in the highest point of Light. There is hardly any in the whole Iliad more proper to move Pity than this Circumstance of Lycaon, or to raise Terror, than this View of Achilles. It is also the finest Picture of them both imaginable: We see the different Attitude of their Persons, and the different Passions which appear'd in their Countenances: At first Achilles stands erect, with Surprize in his Looks, at the Sight of one whom he thought it impossible to find there; while Lycaon is in the Posture of a Suppliant, with Looks that plead for Compassion; with one Hand holding the Hero's Lance, and his Knee with the other: Afterwards, when at his Death he lets go the Spear and places himself on his Knees, with his Arms extended, to receive the mortal Wound; how lively and how strongly is this painted? I believe every one perceives the Beauty of this Passage, and allows that Poetry (at least in Homer) is truly a speaking Picture.

The young Lycaon in his Passage stood;

The Son of Priam, whom the Hero's Hand
But late made captive in his Father's Land,
(As on a Fig-tree Top, his sounding Steel
Lopp'd the green Arms to spoke a Chariot Wheel)
To Lemnos' Isle he sold the Royal Slave,
Where Jason's Son the Price demanded gave;
But kind Eëtion touching on the Shore,
The ransom'd Prince to fair Arisbe bore.
Ten Days were past, since in his Father's Reign
He felt the Sweets of Liberty again;
The next, that God whom Men in vain withstand,
Gives the same Youth to the same conqu'ring Hand;

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Now never to return! and doom'd to go
A sadder Journey to the Shades below.
His well-known Face when great Achilles ey'd,
(The Helm and Vizor he had cast aside
With wild Affright, and dropt upon the Field
His useless Lance and unavailing Shield.)
As trembling, panting, from the Stream he fled,
And knock'd his fault'ring Knees, the Hero said.
Ye mighty Gods! what Wonders strike my View:
Is it in vain our conqu'ring Arms subdue?
Sure I shall see yon' Heaps of Trojans kill'd
Rise from the Shades, and brave me on the Field:
As now the Captive, whom so late I bound
And sold to Lemnos, stalks on Trojan Ground!
Not him the Seas unmeasur'd Deeps detain,
That barr such numbers from their native Plain:
Lo! he returns! Try then, my flying spear!
Try, if the Grave can hold the Wanderer;
If Earth at length this active Prince can seize,
Earth, whose strong Grasp has held down Hercules.
Thus while he spake, the Trojan pale with Fears
Approach'd, and sought his Knees with suppliant Tears

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Loth as he was to yield his youthful Breath,
And his Soul shiv'ring at th'Approach of Death.
Achilles rais'd the Spear, prepar'd to wound;
He kiss'd his Feet, extended on the Ground:
And while above the Spear suspended stood,
Longing to dip its thristy Point in Blood;
One Hand embrac'd them close, one stopt the Dart;
While thus these melting Words attempt his Heart.

Verse 84, &c. The Speeches of Lycaon and Achilles .]

It is impossible for any thing to be better imagin'd than these two Speeches; that of Lycaon is moving and compassionate, that of Achilles haughty and dreadful; the one pleads with the utmost Tenderness, the other denies with the utmost Sternness: One would think it impossible to amass so many moving Arguments in so few Words as those of Lycaon: He forgets no Circumstance to soften his Enemy's Anger, he flatters the Memory of Patroclus, is afraid of being thought too nearly related to Hector, and would willingly put himself upon him as a Suppliant, and consequently as an inviolable person: But Achilles is immoveable, his Resentment makes him deaf to Entreaties, and it must be remember'd that Anger, not Mercy, is his Character.

I must confess I could have wish'd Achilles had spared him: There are so many Circumstances that speak in his Favour, that he deserv'd his Life, had he not ask'd it in Terms a little too abject.

There is an Air of Greatness in the Conclusion of the Speech of Achilles, which strikes me very much: He speaks very unconcernedly of his own Death, and upbraids his Enemy for asking Life so earnestly, a Life that was of so much less Importance than his own.

Thy well-known Captive, great Achilles! see,

Once more Lycaon trembling at thy Knee;
Some Pity to a Suppliant's Name afford,
Who shar'd the Gifts of Ceres at thy Board,
Whom late thy conqu'ring Arm to Lemnos bore,
Far from his Father, Friends, and native Shore;
A hundred Oxen were his Price that Day,
Now Sums immense thy Mercy shall repay.
Scarce respited from Woes I yet appear,
And scarce twelve morning Suns have seen me here;
Lo! Jove again submits me to thy Hands,
Again, her Victim cruel Fate demands!
I sprung from Priam, and Laothöe fair,
(Old Alte's Daughter, and Lelegia's Heir;

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Who held in Pedasus his fam'd Abode,
And rul'd the Fields where silver Satnio flow'd)
Two Sons (alas, unhappy Sons) she bore,
For ah! one Spear shall drink each Brother's Gore,
And I succeed to slaughter'd Polydore.
How from that Arm of Terror shall I fly?
Some Dæmon urges! 'tis my Doom to die!
If ever yet soft Pity touch'd thy mind,
Ah! think not me too much of Hector's Kind:
Not the same Mother gave thy Suppliant Breath,
With his, who wrought thy lov'd Patroclus' Death.
These Words, attended with a Show'r of Tears,
The Youth addrest to unrelenting Ears:
Talk not of Life, or Ransom, (he replies)
Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies:
In vain a single Trojan sues for Grace;
But least, the Sons of Priam's hateful Race.
Die then, my Friend! what boots it to deplore?
The great, the good Patroclus is no more!
He, far thy Better, was fore-doom'd to die,
“And thou, dost thou, bewail Mortality?

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See'st thou not me, whom Nature's Gifts adorn,
Sprung from a Hero, from a Goddess born;

Verse 122.

The Day shall come------
When by the Spear, the Arrow, or the Dart.

This is not spoken at random, but with an Air of Superiority; when Achilles says he shall fall by an Arrow, a Dart or a Spear, he insinuates that no Man will have the Courage to approach him in a close Fight, or engage him Hand to Hand. Eustathius.

The Day shall come (which nothing can avert)

When by the Spear, the Arrow, or the Dart,
By Night, or Day, by Force or by Design,
Impending Death and certain Fate are mine.
Die then—He said; and as the Word he spoke
The fainting Stripling sunk, before the Stroke;
His Hand forgot its Grasp, and left the Spear;
While all his trembling Frame confest his Fear.
Sudden, Achilles his broad Sword display'd,
And buried in his Neck the reeking Blade.
Prone fell the Youth; and panting on the Land,
The gushing Purple dy'd the thirsty Sand:
The Victor to the Stream the Carcass gave,
And thus insults him, floating on the Wave
Lie there, Lycaon! let the Fish surround
Thy bloated Corse, and suck thy goary Wound:
There no sad Mother shall thy Fun'rals weep,
But swift Scamander roll thee to the Deep,
Whose ev'ry Wave some wat'ry Monster brings,
To feast unpunish'd on the Fat of Kings.

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So perish Troy, and all the Trojan Line!
Such Ruin theirs, and such Compassion mine.
What boots ye now Scamander's worship'd Stream,
His earthly Honours, and immortal Name;
In vain your immolated Bulls are slain,

Verse 147. Your living Coursers glut his Gulphs in vain.] It was an ancient Custom to cast living Horses into the Sea, and into Rivers, to honour, as it were, by these Victims, the Rapidity of their Streams. This Practice continued a long time, and History supplies us with Examples of it: Aurelius Victor says of Pompey the younger, Cùm mari feliciter uteretur, Neptuni se filium confessus est, eumque bobus auratis & equo placavit. He offer'd Oxen in Sacrifice, and threw a living Horse into the Sea, as appears from Dion; which is perfectly conformable to this of Homer. Eustath. Dacier.

Your living Coursers glut his Gulphs in vain:

Thus he rewards you, with this bitter Fate;
Thus, till the Grecian Vengeance is compleat;
Thus is aton'd Patroclus honour'd Shade,
And the short Absence of Achilles paid.
These boastful Words provoke the raging God;

Verse 153. With Fury swells the violated Flood.] The Poet has been preparing us for the Episode of the River Xanthus ever since the Beginning of the last Book; and here he gives us an account why the River wars upon Achilles: It is not only because he is a River of Troas, but, as Eustathius remarks, because it is in defence of a Man that was descended from a Brother-River God: He was angry too with Achilles on another account, because he had choak'd up his Current with the Bodies of his Countreymen, the Trojans.

With Fury swells the violated Flood.

What Means divine may yet the Pow'r employ,
To check Achilles, and to rescue Troy?
Meanwhile the Hero springs in Arms, to dare
The great Asteropeus to mortal War;
The Son of Pelagon, whose lofty Line
Flows from the Source of Axius, Stream divine!
(Fair Peribæa's Love the God had crown'd,
With all his refluent Waters circled round)
On him Achilles rush'd: He fearless stood,
And shook two Spears, advancing from the Flood;

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The Flood impell'd him, on Pelides' Head
T'avenge his Waters choak'd with Heaps of Dead.
Near as they drew, Achilles thus began.
What art thou, boldest of the Race of Man?
Who, or from whence? Unhappy is the Sire,
Whose Son encounters our resistless Ire.
O Son of Peleus! what avails to trace
(Reply'd the Warrior) our illustrious Race?

Verse 172. From rich Pæonia's—&c.] In the Catalogue Pyræchmes is said to be Commander of the Pæonians, where they are describ'd as Bow-Men; but here they are said to be arm'd with Spears, and to have Asteropæus for their General. Eustathius tells us, some Criticks asserted that this Line in the Cat. V. 355.

Πηλεγονος θ' [illeg.](ος περιδεξιος Αστεροπαιος.

followed

Αυταρ Πυραιχμης αγε Παιονας αγκυλοτοξους.

but I see no reason for such an Assertion. Homer has expressly told us in this Speech that it was but ten Days since he came to the Aid of Troy; he might be made General of the Pæonians upon the Death of Pyræchmes, who was kill'd in the sixteenth Book. Why also might not the Pæonians, as well as Teucer, excel in the Management both of the Bow and the Spear?

From rich Pæonia's Vallies I command

Arm'd with protended Spears, my native Band;
Now shines the tenth bright Morning since I came
In aid of Ilion to the Fields of Fame:
Axius, who swells with all the neighb'ring Rills,
And wide around the floated Region fills,
Begot my Sire, whose Spear such Glory won:
Now lift thy Arm, and try that Hero's Son!
Threat'ning he said: The hostile Chiefs advance;
At once Asteropeus discharg'd each Lance,
(For both his dext'rous Hands the Lance cou'd wield)
One struck, but pierc'd not the Vulcanian Shield;
One raz'd Achilles Hand; the spouting Blood
Spun forth, in Earth the fasten'd Weapon stood.

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Like Lightning next the Pelian Jav'lin flies;
Its erring Fury hiss'd along the Skies;
Deep in the swelling Bank was driv'n the Spear,

Verse 189.

Deep in the swelling Bank was driv'n the Spear,
Ev'n to the middle earth'd------

]

It was impossible for the Poet to give us a greater Idea of the Strength of Achilles than he has by this Circumstance: His Spear peirc'd so deep into the Ground, that another Hero of great Strength could not disengage it by repeated Efforts; but immediately after, Achilles draws it with the utmost Ease: How prodigious was the Force of that Arm that could drive at one throw a Spear half way into the Earth, and then with a touch release it?

Ev'n to the middle earth'd; and quiver'd there.

Then from his side the Sword Pelides drew,
And on his Foe with doubled Fury flew.
The Foe thrice tugg'd, and shook the rooted Wood;
Repulsive of his Might the Weapon stood:
The fourth, he tries to break the Spear in vain;
Bent as he stands, he tumbles to the Plain;
His Belly open'd with a ghastly Wound,
The reeking Entrails pour upon the Ground.
Beneath the Hero's Feet he panting lies,
And his Eye darkens, and his Spirit flies:
While the proud Victor thus triumphing said,
His radiant Armour tearing from the Dead:
So ends thy Glory! Such the Fate they prove
Who strive presumptuous with the Sons of Jove.
Sprung from a River didst thou boast thy Line,
But great Saturnius is the Source of mine.
How durst thou vaunt thy wat'ry Progeny?
Of Peleus, Æacus, and Jove, am I;

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The Race of these superior far to those,
As he that thunders to the Stream that flows.
What Rivers can, Scamander might have shown;
But Jove he dreads, nor wars against his Son.
Ev'n Achelöus might contend in vain,
And all the roaring Billows of the Main.
Th'Eternal Ocean, from whose Fountains flow
The Seas, the Rivers, and the Springs below,
The thund'ring Voice of Jove abhors to hear,
And in his deep Abysses shakes with Fear.
He said; then from the Bank his Jav'lin tore,
And left the breathless Warrior in his Gore.
The floating Tydes the bloody Carcass lave,
And beat against it, Wave succeeding Wave;
Till roll'd between the Banks, it lies the Food
Of curling Eels, and Fishes of the Flood.
All scatter'd round the Stream (their Mightiest slain)
Th'amaz'd Pæonians scour along the Plain:
He vents his Fury on the flying Crew,
Thrasius, Astypylus, and Mnesus slew;
Mydon, Thersilochus, with Ænius fell;
And Numbers more his Lance had plung'd to Hell;

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But from the Bottom of his Gulphs profound,
Scamander spoke; the Shores return'd the Sound.
O first of Mortals! (for the Gods are thine)
In Valour matchless, and in Force divine!
If Jove have giv'n thee every Trojan Head,
'Tis not on me thy Rage should heap the Dead.
See! my choak'd Streams no more their Course can keep,
Nor roll their wonted Tribute to the Deep.
Turn then, Impetuous! from our injur'd Flood;
Content, thy Slaughters could amaze a God.
In human Form confess'd before his Eyes
The River thus; and thus the Chief replies.
O sacred Stream! thy Word we shall obey;
But not till Troy the destin'd Vengeance pay,
Not till within her Tow'rs the perjur'd Train
Shall pant, and tremble at our Arms again;
Not till proud Hector, Guardian of her Wall,
Or stain this Lance, or see Achilles fall.
He said; and drove with Fury on the Foe.
Then to the Godhead of the silver Bow
The yellow Flood began: O Son of Jove!
Was not the Mandate of the Sire above

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Full and express? that Phœbus should employ
His sacred Arrows in defence of Troy,
And make her conquer, till Hyperion's Fall
In awful Darkness hide the Face of all?
He spoke in vain—The Chief without Dismay
Ploughs thro' the boiling Surge his desp'rate Way.
Then rising in his Rage above the Shores,
From all his Deeps the bellowing River roars,
Huge Heaps of Slain disgorges on the Coast,
And round the Banks the ghastly Dead are tost.
While all before, the Billows rang'd on high.
(A wat'ry Bulwark) screen the Bands who fly.

Verse 264. Now bursting on his Head, &c.] There is a great Beauty in the Versification of this whole Passage in Homer: Some of the Verses run hoarse, full, and sonorous, like the Torrent they describe; others by their broken Cadences, and sudden Stops, image the Difficulty, Labour, and Interruption of the Hero's March against it. The fall of the Elm, the tearing up of the Bank, the rushing of the Branches in the Water, are all put into such Words, that almost every Letter corresponds in its Sound, and echoes to the Sense of each particular.

Now bursting on his Head with thund'ring Sound,

The falling Deluge whelms the Hero round:
His loaded Shield bends to the rushing Tide;
His Feet, upborn, scarce the strong Flood divide,
Slidd'ring, and stagg'ring. On the Border stood
A spreading Elm, that overhung the Flood;
He seiz'd a bending Bough, his Steps to stay;
The Plant uprooted to his Weight gave way,
Heaving the Bank, and undermining all;
Loud flash the Waters to the rushing Fall

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Of the thick Foliage. The large Trunk display'd

Verse 275. Bridg'd the rough Flood across—] If we had no other account of the River Xanthus but this, it were alone sufficient to shew that the Current could not be very wide; for the Poet here says that the Elm stretch'd from Bank to Bank, and as it were made a Bridge over it: The Suddenness of this Inundation perfectly well agrees with a narrow River.

Bridg'd the rough Flood across: The Hero stay'd

On this his Weight, and rais'd upon his Hand,

Verse 277. Leap'd from the Chanel.] Eustathius recites a Criticism on this Verse, in the Original the Word Λιμνη signifies Stagnum, Palus, a standing-Water; now this is certainly contrary to the Idea of a River, which always implies a Current: To solve this, says that Author, some have suppos'd that the Tree which lay a-cross the River stopp'd the flow of the Waters, and forc'd them to spread as it were into a Pool. Others, dissatisfy'd with this Solution, think that a Mistake is crept into the Text, and that instead of εκ Λιμνης, should be inserted εκ δινης. But I do not see the Necessity of having recourse to either of these Solutions; for why may not the Word Λιμην signify here the Chanel of the River, as it evidently does in the 317th Verse? And nothing being more common than to substitute a part for the whole, why may not the Chanel be suppos'd to imply the whole River?

Leap'd from the Chanel, and regain'd the Land.

Then blacken'd the wild Waves; the Murmur rose;
The God pursues, a huger Billow throws,
And bursts the Bank, ambitious to destroy
The Man whose Fury is the Fate of Troy.
He, like the warlike Eagle speeds his Pace,
(Swiftest and strongest of th'aerial Race)
Far as a Spear can fly, Achilles springs
At every Bound; His clanging Armour rings:
Now here, now there, he turns on ev'ry side,
And winds his Course before the following Tide;
The Waves flow after, wheresoe'er he wheels,
And gather fast, and murmur at his Heels.

Verse 290. As when a Peasant to his Garden brings, &c.] This changing of the Character is very beautiful: No Poet ever knew, like Homer, to pass from the vehement and the nervous, to the gentle and the agreeable; such Transitions, when properly made, give a singular Pleasure, as when in Musick a Master passes from the rough to the tender. Demetrius Phalereus, who only praises this Comparison for its Clearness, has not sufficiently recommended its Beauty and Value. Virgil has transfer'd it into his first Book of the Georgicks. V. 106.

Deinde satis fluvium inducit, rivosque sequentes:
Et cùm exustus ager morientibus æstuat herbis,
Ecce supercilio clivosi tramitis undam
Elicit: Illa cadens raucum per levia murmur
Saxa ciet, scatebrisq; arentia temperat arva.
Dacier.
So when a Peasant to his Garden brings

Soft Rills of Water from the bubbling Springs,
And calls the Floods from high, to bless his Bow'rs
And feed with pregnant Streams the Plants and Flow'rs;
Soon as he clears whate'er their passage staid,
And marks their future Current with his Spade,

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Swift o'er the rolling Pebbles, down the Hills
Louder and louder purl the falling Rills,
Before him scatt'ring, they prevent his pains,
And shine in mazy Wand'rings o'er the Plains.
Still flies Achilles, but before his eyes
Still swift Scamander rolls where'er he flies:
Not all his Speed escapes the rapid Floods;
The first of Men, but not a Match for Gods.
Oft' as he turn'd the Torrent to oppose,
And bravely try if all the Pow'rs were Foes;
So oft' the Surge, in wat'ry Mountains spread,
Beats on his Back, or bursts upon his Head.
Yet dauntless still the adverse Flood he braves,
And still indignant bounds above the Waves.
Tir'd by the Tides, his Knees relax with Toil;
Wash'd from beneath him, slides the slimy Soil;
When thus (his Eyes on Heav'ns Expansion thrown)
Forth bursts the Hero with an angry Groan.
Is there no God Achilles to befriend,
No Pow'r t'avert his miserable End?
Prevent, oh Jove! this ignominious Date,
And make my future Life the Sport of Fate.

260

Of all Heav'ns Oracles believ'd in vain,
But most of Thetis, must her Son complain;
By Phœbus' Darts she prophesy'd my Fall,
In glorious Arms before the Trojan Wall.

Verse 321. Oh had I dy'd in Fields of Battel warm! &c.] Nothing is more agreeable than this Wish to the heroick Character of Achilles: Glory is his prevailing Passion; he grieves not that he must die, but that he should die unlike a Man of Honour. Virgil has made use of the same Thought in the same Circumstance, where Æneas is in danger of being drowned, Æn. 1. V. 98.

------ O terq; quaterque beati,
Queis ante ora patrum Trojæ sub mœnibus altis
Contigit oppetere! O Danaum fortissime gentis
Tydide, mene Iliacis occumbere campis
Non potuisse? tuâque animam hanc effundere dextrâ!

Lucan, in the fifth Book of his Pharsalia, representing Cæsar in the same Circumstance, has (I think) yet farther the Character of Ambition, and a boundless Thirst of Glory, in his Hero; when, after he has repin'd in the same manner with Achilles, he acquiesces at last in the Reflection of the Glory he had already acquired,

------ Licet ingentes abruperit actus
Festinata dies fatis, sat magna peregi.
Arctoas domui gentes: inimica subegi
Arma manu: vidit Magnum mihi Roma secundum.

And only wishes that his obscure Fate might be conceal'd, in the view that all the World might still fear and expect him.

------ Lacerum retinete cadaver
Fluctibus in mediis; desint mihi busta, rogusque,
Dum metuar semper, terrâque expecter ab omni.
Oh! had I dy'd in Fields of Battel warm,

Stretch'd like a Hero, by a Hero's Arm!
Might Hector's Spear this dauntless Bosom rend,
And my swift Soul o'ertake my slaughter'd Friend!
Ah no! Achilles meets a shameful Fate,
Oh how unworthy of the Brave and Great!
Like some vile Swain, whom, on a rainy Day,
Crossing a Ford, the Torrent sweeps away,
An unregarded Carcase to the Sea.
Neptune and Pallas haste to his Relief,
And thus in human Form address the Chief:
The Pow'r of Ocean first. Forbear thy Fear,
O Son of Peleus! Lo thy Gods appear!
Behold! from Jove descending to thy Aid,
Propitious Neptune, and the blue-ey'd Maid.
Stay, and the furious Flood shall cease to rave;
Tis not thy Fate to glut his angry Wave.

261

But thou, the Counsel Heav'n suggests, attend!
Nor breathe from Combate, nor thy Sword suspend,
Till Troy receive her flying Sons, till all
Her routed Squadrons pant behind their Wall:
Hector alone shall stand his fatal Chance,
And Hector's Blood shall smoke upon thy Lance.
Thine is the Glory doom'd. Thus spake the Gods;
Then swift ascended to the bright Abodes.
Stung with new Ardor, thus by Heav'n impell'd,
He springs impetuous, and invades the Field:
O'er all th'expanded Plain the Waters spread;
Heav'd on the bounding Billows, danc'd the Dead,
Floating midst scatter'd Arms; while Casques of Gold
And turn'd up Bucklers glitter'd as they roll'd.
High o'er the surging Tide, by Leaps and Bounds,
He wades, and mounts; the parted Wave resounds.
Not a whole River stops the Hero's Course,
While Pallas fills him with immortal Force.
With equal Rage, indignant Xanthus roars,
And lifts his Billows, and o'erwhelms his Shores
Then thus to Simois: Haste, my Brother Flood!
And check this Mortal that controuls a God:

262

Our bravest Heroes else shall quit the Fight,
And Ilion tumble from her tow'ry Height.
Call then thy subject Streams, and bid them roar,
From all thy Fountains swell thy wat'ry Store,
With broken Rocks, and with a Load of Dead,
Charge the black Surge, and pour it on his Head.
Mark how resistless thro' the Floods he goes,
And boldly bids the warring Gods be Foes!
But nor that Force, nor Form divine to Sight
Shall ought avail him, if our Rage unite:
Whelm'd under our dark Gulphs those Arms shall lie
That blaze so dreadful in each Trojan Eye;
And deep beneath a sandy Mountain hurl'd
Immers'd remain this Terror of the World.
Such pond'rous Ruin shall confound the Place,
No Greek shall e'er his perish'd Relicks grace,
No Hand his Bones shall gather, or inhume;
These his cold Rites, and this his wat'ry Tomb.
He said; and on the Chief descends amain,
Increas'd with Gore, and swelling with the Slain.
Then murm'ring from his Beds, he boils, he raves.
And a Foam whitens on the purple Waves

263

At ev'ry Step, before Achilles stood
The crimson Surge, and delug'd him with Blood.
Fear touch'd the Queen of Heav'n: She saw dismay'd,
She call'd aloud, and summon'd Vulcan's Aid.
Rise to the War! th'insulting Flood requires
Thy wasteful Arm: Assemble all thy Fires!
While to their aid, by our Command enjoin'd,
Rush the swift Eastern and the Western Wind:
These from old Ocean at my Word shall blow,
Pour the red Torrent on the wat'ry Foe,
Corses and Arms to one bright Ruin turn,
And hissing Rivers to their bottoms burn.
Go, mighty in thy Rage! display thy Pow'r,
Drink the whole Flood, the crackling Trees devour,
Scorch all the Banks! and (till our Voice reclaim)
Exert th'unweary'd Furies of the Flame!
The Pow'r Ignipotent her Word obeys:
Wide o'er the Plain he pours the boundless Blaze;
At once consumes the Dead, and dries the Soil;
And the shrunk Waters in their Chanel boil:
As when Autumnal Boreas sweeps the Sky,
And instant, blows the water'd Garden dry:

264

So look'd the Field, so whiten'd was the Ground,

Verse 406. While Vulcan breath'd the fiery Blast around.] It is in the Original, V. 355.

Πνοιη τειρομενοι πολυμητιος Ηφαιστοιο.

The Epithet given to Vulcan in this Verse (as well as in the 367th) Ηφαιστοιο πολυφρονος, has no sort of Allusion to the Action describ'd: For what has his Wisdom or Knowledge to do with burning up the River Xanthus? This is usual in our Author, and much exclaim'd against by his modern Antagonists, whom Mr. Boileau very well answers. “It is not so strange in Homer to give these Epithets to Persons upon occasions which can have no reference to them; the same is frequent in modern Languages, in which we call a Man by the Name of Saint, when we speak of any Action of his that has not the least regard to his Sanctity: As when we say, for example, that St. Paul held the Garments of those who stoned St. Stephen.

While Vulcan breath'd the fiery Blast around.

Swift on the sedgy Reeds the Ruin preys;
Along the Margin winds the running Blaze:
The Trees in flaming rows to Ashes turn,
The flow'ry Lotos, and the Tam'risk burn,
Broad Elm, and Cypress rising in a Spire;
The wat'ry Willows hiss before the Fire.
Now glow the Waves, the Fishes pant for Breath,
The Eels lie twisting in the Pangs of Death:
Now flounce aloft, now dive the scaly Fry,
Or gasping, turn their Bellies to the Sky.
At length the River rear'd his languid Head,
And thus short-panting, to the God he said.
O Vulcan, oh! what Pow'r resists thy Might?
I faint, I sink, unequal to the Fight—
I yield—Let Ilion fall; if Fate decree—
Ah—bend no more thy fiery Arms on me!
He ceas'd; wide Conflagration blazing round;
The bubbling Waters yield a hissing Sound.

Verse 425. As when the Flames beneath a Caldron rise.] It is impossible to render literally such Passages with any tolerable Beauty. These Ideas can never be made to shine in English, some Particularities cannot be preserv'd; but the Greek Language gives them Lustre, the Words are noble and musical,

Ως δε λεβης ζει ενδον επειγομενος περι πολλω
Κνισον μελδομενος απαλοτρεφεος σιαλοιο,
Παντοθεν αμβολαδην, υπο δε ξυλα καγκανα κειται.

All therefore that can be expected from a Translator is to preserve the Meaning of the Simile, and embellish it with some Words of Affinity that carry nothing low in the Sense or Sound.

As when the Flames beneath a Caldron rise,

To melt the Fat of some rich Sacrifice,

265

Amid the fierce Embrace of circling Fires
The Waters foam, the heavy Smoak aspires:
So boils th'imprison'd Flood, forbid to flow,
And choak'd with Vapours, feels his Bottom glow.
To Juno then, Imperial Queen of Air,
The burning River sends his earnest Pray'r.
Ah why, Saturnia! must thy Son engage
Me, only me, with all his wastfull Rage?
On other Gods his dreadful Arm employ,
For mightier Gods assert the Cause of Troy.
Submissive I desist, if thou command,
But ah! withdraw this all-destroying Hand.
Hear then my solemn Oath, to yield to Fate
Unaided Ilion, and her destin'd State,
Till Greece shall gird her with destructive Flame,
And in one Ruin sink the Trojan Name.
His warm Intreaty touch'd Saturnia's Ear;
She bade th'Ignipotent his Rage forbear,
Recall the Flame, nor in a mortal cause
Infest a God: Th'obedient Flame withdraws:
Again, the branching Streams begin to spread,

Verse 447. And soft re-murmur in their native bed.] Here ends the Episode of the River-Fight; and I must here lay before the Reader my Thoughts upon the whole of it: Which appears to be in part an Allegory, and in part a true History. Nothing can give a better Idea of Homer's manner of enlivening his inanimate Machines, and of making the plainest and simplest Incidents noble and poetical, than to consider the whole Passage in the common historical Sense, which I suppose to be no more than this. There happen'd a great Overflow of the River Xanthus during the Seige, which very much incommoded the Assailants: This gave occasion for the Fiction of an Engagement between Achilles and the River-God: Xanthus calling Simois to assist him, implies that these two neighbouring Rivers join'd in the Inundation: Pallas and Neptune relieve Achilles; that is, Pallas, or the Wisdom of Achilles, found some means to divert the Waters, and turn them into the Sea; wherefore Neptune, the God of it, is feign'd to assist him. Jupiter and Juno (by which are understood the aerial Regions) consent to aid Achilles; this may signify, that after this great Flood their happen'd a warm, dry, windy Season, which asswaged the Waters, and dried the Ground: And what makes this in a manner plain, is, that Juno (which signifies the Air) promises to send the North and West Winds to distress the River. Xanthus being consum'd by Vulcan, that is dried up with Heat, prays to Juno to relieve him: What is this, but that the Drought having almost drunk up his Streams, he has recourse to the Air for Rains to resupply his Current? Or perhaps the whole may signify no more, than that Achilles being on the farther side of the River, plung'd himself in to pursue the Enemy; that in this Adventure he run the risk of being drown'd; that to save himself he laid hold on a fallen Tree, which serv'd to keep him afloat; that he was still carried down the Stream to the Place where was the Confluence of the two Rivers, which is express'd by the one calling the other to his Aid; and that when he came nearer the Sea [Neptune] he found means by his Prudence (Pallas) to save himself from his Danger.

If the Reader still should think the Fiction of Rivers speaking and fighting is too bold, the Objection will vanish by considering how much the Heathen Mythology authorizes the Representation of Rivers as Persons: Nay even in old Historians nothing is more common than Stories of Rapes committed by River-Gods: And the Fiction was no way unpresidented, after one of the same nature so well known, as the Engagement between Hercules and the River Achelous.

And soft re-murmur in their wonted Bed.


266

While these by Juno's Will the Strife resign,
The warring Gods in fierce Contention join:
Re-kindling Rage each heavenly Breast alarms;
With horrid Clangor shock th'ætherial Arms:
Heav'n in loud Thunder bids the Trumpet sound;
And wide beneath them groans the rending Ground.
Jove, as his Sport, the dreadful Scene descries,

Verse 455. Jove as his Sport, the dreadful Scene descries, And views contending Gods with careless Eyes.] I was at a loss for the reason why Jupiter is said to smile at the Discord of the Gods, till I found it in Eustathius; Jupiter, says he, who is the Lord of Nature, is well pleased with the War of the Gods, that is of Earth, Sea, and Air, &c. because the Harmony of all Beings arises from that Discord: Thus Earth is opposite to Water, Air to Earth, and Water to them all; and yet from this Opposition arises that discordant Concord by which all Nature subsists. Thus Heat and Cold, moist and dry, are in a continual War, yet upon this depends the Fertility of the Earth, and the Beauty of the Creation. So that Jupiter who according to the Greeks is the Soul of all, may well be said to smile at this Contention.

And views contending Gods with careless Eyes.

Verse 456. The Power of Battels, &c.] The Combate of Mars and Pallas is plainly allegorical: Justice and Wisdom demanded that an end should be put to this terrible War: the God of War opposes this, but is worsted. Eustathius says that this holds forth the Opposition of Rage and Wisdom; and no sooner has our Reason subdued one Temptation, but another succeeds to reinforce it, thus Venus succours Mars. The Poet seems farther to insinuate, that Reason when it resists a Temptation vigorously, easily overcomes it: So it is with the utmost Facility that Pallas conquers both Mars and Venus. He adds, that Pallas retreated from Mars in order to conquer him; this shews us that the best way to subdue a Temptation is to retreat from it.

The Pow'r of Battels lifts his brazen Spear,

And first assaults the radiant Queen of War,
What mov'd thy Madness, thus to disunite
Æthereal Minds, and mix all Heav'n in Fight?
What wonder this, when in thy frantick Mood
Thou drov'st a Mortal to insult a God;
Thy impious Hand Tydides' Jav'lin bore,
And madly bath'd it in celestial Gore.
He spoke, and smote the loud-resounding Shield,
Which bears Jove's Thunder on its dreadful Field;
The Adamantine Ægis of her Sire,
That turns the glancing Bolt, and forked Fire.
Then heav'd the Goddess in her mighty Hand

Verse 469. Then heav'd the Goddess in her mighty Hand A Stone, &c.] The Poet has describ'd many of his Heroes in former parts of his Poem, as throwing Stones of enormous Bulk and Weight; but here he rises in his Image: He is describing a Goddess, and has found a way to make that Action excel all human Strength, and be equal to a Deity.

Virgil has imitated this Passage in his twelfth Book, and apply'd it to Turnus; but I can't help thinking that the action in a Mortal is somewhat extravagantly imagined: What principally renders it so, is an Addition of two Lines to this Simile which he borrows from another part of Homer, only with this difference, that whereas Homer says no two Men could raise such a Stone, Virgil extends it to twelve.

------ Saxum circumspicit ingens,
Saxum, antiquum, ingens, campo quod forte jacebat,
Limes agro positus, litem ut discerneret arvis.

(There is a Beauty in the Repetition of Saxum ingens, in the second Line; it makes us dwell upon the Image, and gives us Leisure to consider the Vastness of the Stone:) The other two Lines are as follow,

Vix illud, lecti bis sex cervice subirent,
Qualia nunc hominum producit corpora tellus.

May I be allowed to think, they are not so well introduced in Virgil? For it is just after Turnus is describ'd as weaken'd and oppress'd with his Fears and ill Omens; it exceeds Probability; and Turnus, methinks, looks more like a Knight-Errant in a Romance, than an Hero in an Epick Poem.

A Stone, the Limit of the neighb'ring Land,


267

There fix'd from eldest times; black, craggy, vast:
This, at the heav'nly Homicide she cast.
Thund'ring he falls; a Mass of monstrous Size,
And sev'n broad Acres covers as he lies.
The stunning Stroke his stubborn Nerves unbound;
Loud o'er the Fields his ringing Arms resound:
The scornful Dame her Conquest views with Smiles,
And glorying thus, the prostrate God reviles.
Hast thou not yet, insatiate Fury! known,
How far Minerva's Force transcends thy own?
Juno, whom thou rebellious dar'st withstand,
Corrects thy Folly thus by Pallas' Hand;
Thus meets thy broken Faith with just Disgrace,
And partial Aid to Troy's perfidious Race.
The Goddess spoke, and turn'd her Eyes away
That beaming round, diffus'd celestial Day.
Jove's Cyprian Daughter stooping on the Land,
Lent to the wounded God her tender Hand:
Slowly he rises, scarcely breathes with Pain,
And propt on her fair Arm, forsakes the Plain.
This the bright Empress of the Heav'ns survey'd,
And scoffing, thus, to War's victorious Maid.

268

Lo, what an Aid on Mars's Side is seen!
The Smiles and Love's unconquerable Queen!
Mark with what Insolence, in open view,
She moves: Let Pallas, if she dares, pursue.
Minerva smiling heard, the Pair o'ertook,
And slightly on her Breast the Wanton strook:
She, unresisting, fell; (her Spirits fled)
On Earth together lay the Lovers spread.
And like these Hero's, be the Fate of all
(Minerva cries) who guard the Trojan Wall!
To Grecian Gods such let the Phrygian be,
So dread, so fierce, as Venus is to me;
Then from the lowest Stone shall Troy be mov'd—
Thus she, and Juno with a Smile approv'd.
Meantime, to mix in more than mortal Fight,

Verse 508. The God of Ocean, and the God of Light.] The Interview between Neptune and Apollo is very judiciously in this place enlarged upon by our Author. The Poem now draws to a Conclusion, the Trojans are to be punish'd for their Perjury and Violence: Homer accordingly with a poetical Justice sums up the Evidence against them, and represents the very Founder of Troy as an injurious person. There have been several References to this Story since the Beginning of the Poem, but he forbore to give it at large till near the end of it; that it might be fresh upon the Memory, and shew, the Trojans deserve the Punishment they are about to suffer.

Eustathius gives the reason why Apollo assists the Trojans, tho' he had been equally with Neptune affronted by Laomedon: This proceeded from the Honours which Apollo receiv'd from the Posterity of Laomedon; Troy paid him no less Worship than Cilla, or Tenedos; and by these means won him over to a Forgiveness: But Neptune still was slighted, and consequently continued an Enemy to the whole Race.

The same Author gives us various Opinions why Neptune is said to have built the Trojan Wall, and to have been defrauded of his Wages: Some say that Laomedon sacrilegiously took away the Treasures out of the Temples of Apollo and Neptune, to carry on the Fortifications: From whence it was fabled that Neptune and Apollo built the Walls. Others will have it, that two of the Workmen dedicated their Wages to Apollo and Neptune; and that Laomedon detained them: So that he might in some sense be said to defraud the Deities themselves, by with-holding what was dedicated to their Temples.

The reason why Apollo is said to have kept the Herds of Laomedon is not so clear: Eustathius observes that all Plagues first seize upon the four-footed Creation, and are suppos'd to arise from this Deity: Thus Apollo in the first Book sends the Plague into the Grecian Army: The Ancients therefore made him to preside over Cattel, that by preserving them from the Plague, Mankind might be safe from infectious Diseases. Others tell us, that this Employment is ascrib'd to Apollo, because he signifies the Sun: Now the Sun cloaths the Pastures with Grass and Herbs: So that Apollo may be said himself to feed the Cattel, by supplying them with Food. Upon either of these accounts Laomedon may be said to be ungrateful to that Deity, for raising no Temple to his Honour.

It is observable that Homer in this Story ascribes the building of the Wall to Neptune only: I should conjecture the reason might be, that Troy being a Sea-port Town, the chief Strength of it depended upon its Situation, so that the Sea was in a manner a Wall to it: Upon this account Neptune may not improbably be said to have built the Wall.

The God of Ocean dares the God of Light.

What Sloath has seiz'd us, when the Fields around
Ring with conflicting Pow'rs, and Heav'n returns the Sound
Shall ignominious We with shame retire,
No Deed perform'd, to our Olympian Sire?
Come, prove thy Arm! for first the War to wage,
Suits not my Greatness, or superior Age.

269

Rash as thou art to prop the Trojan Throne,
(Forgetful of my Wrongs, and of thy own)
And guard the Race of proud Laomedon!
Hast thou forgot, how at the Monarch's Pray'r,
We shar'd the lengthen'd Labours of a Year?
Troy Walls I rais'd (for such were Jove's Commands)
And yon' proud Bulwarks grew beneath my Hands:
Thy Task it was, to feed the bellowing Droves
Along fair Ida's Vales, and pendent Groves.
But when the circling Seasons in their Train
Brought back the grateful Day that crown'd our Pain;
With Menace stern the fraudful King defy'd
Our latent Godhead, and the Prize deny'd:
Mad as he was, he threaten'd servile Bands,
And doom'd us Exiles far in barb'rous Lands.
Incens'd, we heav'nward fled with swiftest wing,
And destin'd Vengeance on the perjur'd King.
Dost thou, for this, afford proud Ilion Grace,
And not like us, infest the faithless Race?
Like us, their present, future Sons destroy,
And from its deep Foundations heave their Troy?

270

Apollo thus: To combat for Mankind
Ill suits the Wisdom of celestial Mind:

Verse 537. For what is Man? &c.] The Poet is very happy in interspersing his Poem with moral Sentences; in this place he steals away his Reader from War and Horror, and gives him a beautiful Admonition of his own Frailty. “Shall I (says Apollo) contend with thee for the sake of Man? Man, who is no more than a Leaf of a Tree, now green and flourishing, but soon wither'd away and gone?” The Son of Sirach has an Expression which very much resembles this, Ecclus. xiv. 18. As the green Leaves upon a thick Tree some fall, and some grow, so is the Generation of Flesh and Blood, one cometh to an end, and one is born.

For what is Man? Calamitous by Birth,

They owe their Life and Nourishment to Earth;
Like yearly Leaves, that now, with Beauty crown'd,
Smile on the Sun; now, wither on the Ground:
To their own Hands commit the frantick Scene,
Nor mix Immortals in a Cause so mean.
Then turns his Face, far-beaming heav'nly Fires,

Verse 544. And from the Senior God submiss retires.] Two things hinder Homer from making Neptune and Apollo fight. First, because having already describ'd the Fight between Vulcan and Xanthus, he has nothing farther to say here, for it is the same Conflict between Humidity and Dryness. Secondly, Apollo being the same with Destiny, and the Ruin of the Trojans being concluded upon and decided, that God can no longer defer it. Dacier.

And from the Senior Pow'r, submiss retires;

Him, thus retreating, Artemis upbraids,
The quiver'd Huntress of the Sylvan Shades.
And is it thus the youthful Phœbus flies,
And yields to Ocean's hoary Sire, the Prize?
How vain that martial Pomp, and dreadful Show,
Of pointed Arrows, and the silver Bow!
Now boast no more in yon' celestial Bow'r,
Thy Force can match the great Earth-shaking Pow'r.
Silent, he heard the Queen of Woods upbraid:
Not so Saturnia bore the vaunting Maid;
But furious thus. What Insolence has driv'n
Thy Pride to face the Majesty of Heav'n?

271

Verse 557.

The female Plague------
Fierce to the feeble Race of Womankind,

&c.] The Words in the Original are, Tho' Jupiter has made you a Lyon to Women. The meaning of this is, that Diana was terrible to that Sex, as being the same with the Moon, and bringing on the Pangs of Child-birth: Or else, that the Ancients attributed all sudden Deaths of Women to the Darts of Diana, as of Men to those of Apollo: Which Opinion is frequently alluded to in Homer. Eustathius.

What tho' by Jove the female Plague design'd,

Fierce to the feeble Race of Womankind,
The wretched Matron feels thy piercing Dart;
Thy Sexe's Tyrant, with a Tyger's Heart?
What tho' tremendous in the woodland Chase,
Thy certain Arrows pierce the savage Race?
How dares thy Rashness on the Pow'rs divine
Employ those Arms, or match thy Force with mine?
Learn hence, no more unequal War to wage—

Verse 567. She said, and seiz'd her Wrists, &c.] I must confess I am at a loss how to justify Homer in every point of these Combats of the Gods: When Diana and Juno are to fight, Juno calls her an impudent Bitch, κυον αδδεες: When they fight, she boxes her soundly, and sends her crying and trembling to Heaven: As soon as she comes thither Jupiter falls a laughing at her: Indeed the rest of the Deities seem to be in a merry Vein during all the Action: Pallas beats Mars, and laughs at him, Jupiter sees them in the same merry mood: Juno when she had cuff'd Diana is not more serious: In short, unless there be some Depths that I am not able to fathom, Homer never better deserv'd than in this place the Censure past upon him by the Ancients, that as he rais'd the Characters of his Men up to Gods, so he sunk those of Gods down to Men.

Yet I think it but reasonable to conclude, from the very Absurdity of all this, supposing it had no hidden Meaning or Allegory, that there must therefore certainly be some. Nor do I think it any Inference to the contrary, that it is too obscure for us to find out: The Remoteness of our Times must necessarily darken yet more and more such Things as were Mysteries at first. Not that it is at all impossible, notwithstanding their present Darkness, but they might then have been very obvious; as it is certain Allegories ought to be disguis'd, but not obscur'd: An Allegory should be like a Veil over a beautiful Face, so fine and transparent, as to shew the very Charms it covers.

She said, and seiz'd her Wrists with eager Rage;

These in her Left-Hand lock'd, her Right unty'd
The Bow, the Quiver, and its plumy Pride.
About her Temples flies the busy Bow;
Now here, now there, she winds her from the Blow;
The scatt'ring Arrows rattling from the Case,
Drop round, and idly mark the dusty Place.
Swift from the Field the baffled Huntress flies,
And scarce restrains the Torrent in her Eyes:
So, when the Falcon wings her way above,
To the cleft Cavern speeds the gentle Dove,
(Not fated yet to die) There safe retreats,
Yet still her Heart against the Marble beats.

272

To her, Latona hasts with tender Care;

Verse 580. Whom Hermes viewing, thus declines the War.] It is impossible that Mercury should encounter Latona: Such a Fiction would be unnatural, he being a Planet, and she representing the Night; for the Planets owe all their Lustre to the Shades of the Night, and then only become visible to the World. Eustathius.

Whom Hermes viewing, thus declines the War.

How shall I face the Dame, who gives Delight
To him whose Thunders blacken Heav'n with Night?
Go matchless Goddess! triumph in the Skies,
And boast my Conquest, while I yeild the Prize.
He spoke; and past: Latona, stooping low,
Collects the scatter'd Shafts, and fallen Bow,
That glitt'ring on the Dust, lay here and there;
Dishonour'd Relicks of Diana's War.
Then swift pursu'd her to the blest Abode,
Where, all confus'd, she sought the Sov'reign God;
Weeping she grasp'd his Knees: Th'Ambrosial Vest
Shook with her Sighs, and panted on her Breast.
The Sire, superior smil'd; and bade her show,
What heav'nly Hand had caus'd his Daughter's Woe?
Abash'd, she names his own Imperial Spouse;
And the pale Crescent fades upon her Brows.
Thus they above: While swiftly gliding down,
Apollo enters Ilion's sacred Town:
The Guardian God now trembled for her Wall,
And fear'd the Greeks, tho' Fate forbade her Fall.

273

Back to Olympus, from the War's Alarms,
Return the shining Bands of Gods in Arms;
Some proud in Triumph, some with Rage on fire;
And take their Thrones around th'Æthereal Sire.
Thro' Blood, thro' Death, Achilles still proceeds,
O'er slaughter'd Heroes, and o'er rolling Steeds.
As when avenging Flames with Fury driv'n,

Verse 608.

As when avenging Flames with Fury driv'n,
On guilty Towns exert the Wrath of Heaven.

] This Passage may be explain'd two ways, each very remarkable. First, by taking this Fire for a real Fire, sent from Heaven to punish a criminal City, of which we have Example in holy Writ. Hence we find that Homer had a Notion of this great Truth, that God sometimes exerts his Judgments on whole Cities in this signal and terrible manner. Or if we take it in the other sense, simply as a Fire thrown into a Town by the Enemies who assault it, (and only express'd thus by the Author in the same manner as Jeremy makes the City of Jerusalem say, when the Chaldæans burnt the Temple, The Lord from above hath sent Fire into my Bones. Lament. i. 13.) Yet still thus much will appear understood by Homer, that the Fire which is cast into a City comes not properly speaking from Men, but from God who delivers it up to their Fury. Dacier.

On guilty Towns exert the Wrath of Heav'n;

The Pale Inhabitants, some fall, some fly;
And the red Vapours purple all the Sky.
So rag'd Achilles: Death, and dire Dismay,
And Toils, and Terrors, fill'd the dreadful Day.

Verse 614. High on a Turret hoary Priam , &c.] The Poet still raises the Idea of the Courage and Strength of his Hero, by making Priam in a Terror that he should enter the Town with the routed Troops: For if he had not surpass'd all Mortals, what could have been more desireable for an Enemy, than to have let him in, and then destroy'd him?

Here again there was need of another Machine to hinder him from entring the City; for Achilles being vastly speedier than those he pursued, he must necessarily overtake some of them, and the narrow Gates could not let in a body of Troops without his mingling with the hindmost. The Story of Agenor is therefore admirably contriv'd, and Apollo, (who was to take care that the fatal Decrees should be punctually executed) interposes both to save Agenor and Troy; for Achilles might have kill'd Agenor, and still enter'd with the Troops, if Apollo had not diverted him by the Pursuit of that Phantom. Agenor oppos'd himself to Achilles only because he could not do better; for he sees himself reduc'd to a Dilemma, either ingloriously to perish among the Fugitives, or hide himself in the Forest; both which were equally unsafe: Therefore he is purposely inspir'd with a generous Resolution to try to save his Countreymen, and as the Reward of that Service, is at last sav'd himself.

High on a Turret hoary Priam stands,

And marks the Waste of his destructive Hands;
Views, from his Arm, the Trojans scatter'd Flight,
And the near Hero rising on his Sight!
No Stop, no Check, no Aid! With feeble pace,
And settled Sorrow on his aged Face,
Fast as he could, he sighing quits the Walls;
And thus, descending, on the Guards he calls.
You to whose care our City Gates belong,
Set wide your Portals to the flying Throng.

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For lo! he comes, with unresisted Sway;
He comes, and Desolation marks his way!
But when within the Walls our Troops take Breath,
Lock fast the brazen Bars, and shut out Death.
Thus charg'd the rev'rend Monarch: Wide were flung
The opening Folds; the sounding Hinges rung.
Phœbus rush'd forth, the flying Bands to meet,
Strook Slaughter back, and cover'd the Retreat.
On Heaps the Trojans crowd to gain the Gate,
And gladsome see their last Escape from Fate:
Thither, all parch'd with Thirst, a heartless Train,
Hoary with Dust, they beat the hollow Plain;
And gasping, panting, fainting, labour on
With heavier Strides, that lengthen tow'rd the Town.
Enrag'd Achilles follows with his Spear;
Wild with Revenge, insatiable of War.
Then had the Greeks Eternal Praise acquir'd,
And Troy inglorious to her Walls retir'd;
But

Apollo.

he, the God who darts æthereal Flame,

Shot down to save her, and redeem her Fame.
To young Agenor Force divine he gave,
(Antenor's Offspring, haughty, bold and brave)

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In aid of him, beside the Beech he sate,
And wrapt in Clouds, restrain'd the Hand of Fate.
When now the gen'rous Youth Achilles spies,
Thick beats his Heart, the troubled Motions rise,
(So, e're a Storm, the Waters heave and roll)
He stops, and questions thus his mighty Soul.

Verse 651. What shall I fly? &c.] This is a very beautiful Soliloquy of Agenor, such a one as would naturally arise in the Soul of a brave Man, going upon a desperate Enterprise: He weighs everything in the balance of Reason; he sets before himself the Baseness of Flight, and the Courage of his Enemy, till at last the thirst of Glory preponderates all other Considerations. From the Conclusion of this Speech it is evident, that the Story of Achilles his being invulnerable except in the Heel, is an Invention of latter Ages; for had he been so, there had been nothing wonderful in his Character. Eustathius.

What, shall I fly this Terror of the Plain?

Like others fly, and be like others slain?
Vain hope! to shun him by the self-same Road
Yon' Line of slaughter'd Trojans lately trod.
No: with the common Heap I scorn to fall—
What if they pass'd me to the Trojan Wall,
While I decline to yonder Path, that leads
To Ida's Forests and surrounding Shades?
So may I reach, conceal'd, the cooling Flood,
From my tir'd Body wash the Dust and Blood,
As soon as Night her dusky Veil extends,
Return in safety to my Trojan Friends.
What if?—But wherefore all this vain Debate?
Stand I to doubt, within the reach of Fate?
Ev'n now perhaps, e'er yet I turn the Wall,
The fierce Achilles sees me, and I fall:

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Such is his Swiftness, 'tis in vain to fly,
And such his Valour, that who stands must die.
Howe'er, 'tis better, fighting for the State,
Here, and in publick view, to meet my Fate.
Yet sure He too is mortal; He may feel
(Like all the Sons of Earth) the Force of Steel;
One only Soul informs that dreadful Frame;
And Jove's sole Favour gives him all his Fame.
He said, and stood; collected in his Might;
And all his beating Bosom claim'd the Fight.
So from some deep-grown Wood a Panther starts,
Rouz'd from his Thicket by a Storm of Darts;
Untaught to fear or fly, he hears the Sounds
Of shouting Hunters, and of clam'rous Hounds,
Tho' strook, tho' wounded, scarce perceives the Pain,
And the barb'd Jav'lin stings his Breast in vain:
On their whole War, untam'd the Savage flies;
And tears his Hunter, or beneath him dies.
Not less resolv'd, Antenor's valiant Heir
Confronts Achilles, and awaits the War,
Disdainful of Retreat: High-held before,
His Shield (a broad Circumference) he bore;

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Then graceful as he stood, in act to throw
The lifted Jav'lin, thus bespoke the Foe.
How proud Achilles glories in his Fame!
And hopes this day to sink the Trojan Name
Beneath her Ruins! Know, that Hope is vain;
A thousand Woes, a thousand Toils remain.
Parents and Children our just Arms employ,
And strong, and many, are the Sons of Troy.
Great as thou art, ev'n thou may'st stain with Gore
These Phrygian Fields, and press a foreign Shore.
He said: With matchless Force the Jav'lin flung
Smote on his Knee; the hollow Cuishes rung
Beneath the pointed Steel; but safe from Harms
He stands impassive in th'Æthereal Arms.
Then fiercely rushing on the daring Foe,
His lifted Arm prepares the fatal Blow;
But jealous of his Fame, Apollo shrouds
The god-like Trojan in a Veil of Clouds;
Safe from Pursuit, and shut from mortal View,
Dismiss'd with Fame, the favour'd Youth withdrew.

Verse 705. Meanwhile the God, to cover their Escape, &c.] The Poet makes a double use of this Fiction of Apollo's deceiving Achilles in the Shape of Agenor; by these means he draws him from the Pursuit, and gives the Trojans time to enter the City, and at the same time brings Agenor handsomely off from the Combat. The Moral of this Fable is, that Destiny would not yet suffer Troy to fall.

Eustathius fancies that the occasion of the Fiction might be this: Agenor fled from Achilles to the Banks of Xanthus, and might there conceal himself from the Pursuer behind some Covert that grew on the Shores; this perhaps might be the whole of the Story. So plain a Narration would have pass'd in the Mouth of an Historian, but the Poet dresses it in Fiction, and tells us that Apollo (or Destiny) conceal'd him in a Cloud from the sight of his Enemy.

The same Author farther observes, that Achilles by an unseasonable peice of Vain-glory, in pursuing a single Enemy gives time to a whole Army to escape; he neither kills Agenor, nor overtakes the Trojans.

Meanwhile the God, to cover their Escape,

Assumes Agenor's Habit, Voice, and Shape,

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Flies from the furious Chief in this Disguise,
The furious Chief still follows where he flies.
Now o'er the Fields they stretch with lengthen'd Stride
Now urge the Course where swift Scamander glides:
The God now distant scarce a Stride before,
Tempts his Pursuit, and wheels about the Shore.
While all the flying Troops their Speed employ,
And pour on Heaps into the Walls of Troy.
No stop, no stay; no thought to ask, or tell,
Who scap'd by Flight, or who by Battel fell.
'Twas Tumult all, and Violence of Flight;
And sudden Joy confus'd, and mix'd Affright:
Pale Troy against Achilles shuts her Gate;
And Nations breathe, deliver'd from their Fate.

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FINIS.