University of Virginia Library


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THE TWENTY-SECOND BOOK OF THE ILIAD

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

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

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The ARGUMENT.

The Death of Hector.

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

Not half so dreadful rises to the Sight

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

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

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

Ah stay not, stay not! guardless and alone;

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

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

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

Yet shun Achilles! enter yet the Wall;

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

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

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

My bleeding Infants dash'd against the Floor;

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

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

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

But when the Fates, in Fulness of their Rage,

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

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

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

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

Have mercy on me, O my Son! Revere

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shall proud Polydamas before the Gate

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

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

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Verse 167.

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

, &c.]

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

Ου γαρ απο δρυος εσσι παλαιφατου ουδ' απο πετρης.

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

We greet not here, as Man conversing Man

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

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

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

------ επειη πολυ φερτερος εστιν.

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

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

Εκτορα δ' αυτου μειναι ολοη μοιρ' επεδησεν.

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

Dii me terrent, & Jupiter hostis.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where two fam'd Fountains burst the parted Ground;

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

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

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

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

The gazing Gods lean forward from the Sky:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

15

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

16

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

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

Then Phœbus left him. Fierce Minerva flies

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

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

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

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

17

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

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

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

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

18

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

19

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

20

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

21

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

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

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

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

22

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

Gave entrance: Thro' that penetrable Part

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

23

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

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

Could I my self the bloody Banquet join!

No—to the Dogs that Carcase I resign.

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

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

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

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

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

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

24

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

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

While some ignobler, the great Dead deface

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

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

Princes and Leaders! Countrymen and Friends!


25

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

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

Hector is dead, and Ilion is no more.

Then his fell Soul a Thought of Vengeance bred,

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

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

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

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

------ τω δε φρενας αφρονι πειθεν.

And so of the rest.

(Unworthy of himself, and of the Dead)


26

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

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

The Face divine, and long-descending Hair

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

27

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

28

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

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

Ου μ' αχος οξυ κατοισεται αιδος εισω.

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

Sinks my sad Soul with Sorrow to the Grave.

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

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But not as yet the fatal News had spread

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

To fair Andromache, of Hector dead;

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Day, that to the Shades the Father sends,

Robs the sad Orphan of his Father's Friends:

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

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

With Princes sported, and on Dainties fed,

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

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

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

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

The martial Scarf and Robe of Triumph wove.

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

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