MASTER Ν EGA Τ IV Ε 7Ό 1 % 9ι MICROFILMED 1 992 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES/NEW YORK as part of the "Foundations of Western Civilization Preservation Project" Funded by the NATIONAL ENDOWMENT FOR THE HUMANITIES Reproductions may not be made without permission from Columbia University Library COPYRIGHT STATEMENT The copyright law of the United States -- Title 17, United States Code ~ concerns the making of photocopies or other reproductions of copyrighted material... Columbia University Library reserves the right to refuse to accept a copy order if, in its judgement, fulfillment of the order would involve violation of the copyright law. AUTHOR: hOMER TITLE: POPE'S ΓΗΕ ILIAD OF HOMER.... PLACE: W YORK DATE 1896 tjaaBaafiMSaiiMaaaiaiiiliiirlffifilwyiiaT^ ΓιΛιίίΐΜΜίΜηΊιΐίίίΜι COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES PRESERVATION DEPARTMENT mRT.TOGRAPHTr mtcroform target Master Negative # Original Material as Filmed - Existing Bibliographic Record Restrictions on Use: 88HS J143 llias. Homerus. ^"°• ^P«' Maxwell ... and PercTval cilh "'*''m Lonp^ans, Green and co•! 1896 "■ ^''^ ^^'^ '^*«•ϊ • cla's:!c.,!''d.''by α R. fcLi?)"' '''"'• ^""'^'^'''^ Longmans' English Series title also at head of t.-p. . ' ^«^ ed. m Chubb P,"i„l^£**• t'-.^n^axwell, William Henry. 1852- ed. ^ Chubb: P-^.KS!. -,,-^ΐ- Library of Congress CopjtZ Copyright 1896 : 46S96 13-12230 J i^ TECHNICAL MICROFORM DATA REDUCTION RATIO: ^.Λ FILM 5ΙΖΕ:_3ι3!_Ώ_/ΤΧ_^— IMAGE PLACEMENT: lA C® IB IID ^^,^^^^_ _^ r> . DATE FILMED:ArjL^_fiJ- .λ^^Ι ;ίοηρ1^Ρϊ\^^ FILMED BY: RESEARCH PUB TTCATIONS. ΙΝΓ WOODBRIDGE, cT i ,%^ % ^. -^φ ο. 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This series is designed for use in secondary schools in accordance with the system of study recommended and outlined by the National Committee of Ten, and in direct preparation for the uniform entrance requirements in English, now adopted by the principal American colleges and universities. Each volume contains full Notes. Introductions, Bibliographies, and other explanatory and illustrative matter. Crown 8vo, cloth. Books Prescribed for the i8gj Examinations, FOR READING. Shakspere's As You Like It. With an introduction by Barrett Wendell, A.B., Assistant Professor of English in Harvard Univer- sity, and notes by William Lyon Phelps, Ph.D., Instructor in English Literature in Yale University. Defoe's History of the Plague in London. Edited, with intro- duction and notes, by Professor G. R. Carpenter, of Columbia College. With Portrait of Defoe. Irving's Tales of a Traveller. 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Edited, with introduction and notes, by the Rev. Huber Gray Buehler, of the Hotchkiss School, Lakeville, Conn. With Portrait of Johnson. m^^S£^:JilMMs^'^ LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS^C6ii/i«tt^^. Boohs Prescribed for the i8g8 Examinations. FOR HEADING, \ lull Milton's Paradise Lost. Books I. and II. Edited, with introduc- tion and notes, by Edward Everett Hale, Jr., Ph.D., Professor of Rhetoric and Logic in Union College. With Portrait of Milton. Pope's Homer's Iliad. Books I., VI-i XXIL, and XXIV. Edited, with introduction and notes, by William H. Maxwell, A.M., Superintendent of Public Instruction, Brooklyn, N.Y., and Percival Chubb, of the Manual Training High School, Brooklyn. With Portrait of Pope. The Sir Roger de Coverley Papers, from "The Spectator." Edited, with introduction and notes, by D. O. S. Lowell, A.M., English Master in the Roxbury Latin School, Roxbury, Mass. With Portrait of Addison. Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield. Edited, with introduction and notes, by Mary A. 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With Portrait of Burke. De Quincey's Flight of a Tartar Tribe. Edited, with introduc- tion and notes, by Charles Sears Baldwin, Ph.D., Instructor in Rhetoric in Yale University. With Portrait of De Quincey. Tennyson's The Princess. Edited, with introduction and notes, by George Edward Woodberry, A.B., Professor of Literature in Columbia College. With Portrait of Tennyson. %* See list of the series at end of volume for books prescribed for i8gg and igoo. LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS edited by GEORGE RICE CARPENTER, A.B. ALEXANDER ΓΟΡΕ THE ILIAD OF HOMEK BOOKS I., VI., XXII., AND XXXV. LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS WUh fua Motee^ Introductions, Bibliographies, and other Explanatory and Illustrative Matter. Crown 8υο. Cloth. BnAKenxTn Mihchant of Vbkicb. Edited by Francis H. Gummere.Ph.D., Professor of Englieh in Haverford College. Shakspkrb's As You Likb It. 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Edited by Professor G Κ Carpenter, of Columbia College. The Sir Roqbb de Coverlet Papers, ftom "The Spectator." Edited by p. O. S. Lowell, A.M., of the Roxbury Latm School, Roxbury, Mass. Goldsmith's The Vicab of Wakefield. Edited by Mary A. Jordan, A.M., Prof*-ssor of Rhetoric and Old Euijlish in Smith College. BtTRKE's Speech on Conciliation with America. Edited by Albert S. Cook, Kh.D., L.H.D., Professor of the Eng- lish Language and Literature in Yale Umverslty. Scott s Woodstock. Edited by Bliss 1 erry, A. M., Professor of Oratory and Esthetic Criticism in Princeton College. Scott's Marmion. Edited by Robert Mors-s Lovett, A.B., Assistant Pro- fessor of English in the University of Chicago. Macaulat's Essay on Milton. Edited by James Oreenleaf Croswell. A.B., Head-master of the Brearlev School, New York, formerly Assistant Pro- fessor of Greek in Harvard University. Macau-lay's Lifi of Samitel Johnson. Edited by the Rev. Huber Gray Buehier, of the Hotchklss School, Lakeville, Conn, laviNo's Tales of a Traveller. With an iTitrocluction by Brander Matthews Professor of Literature in Columbia College, and Explanatory Notes by the general editor of the series. Webster's First Bunker Hill Ora- tion, together with other Addresses relating to the Revolution. Edited by Fred Newton Scott, Ph.D., Junior Profe>8or of Rhetoric in the University of Michigan. CoLERiDOKS The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Edited by Herbert Bates, A.B., formerly Instructor in English in the University of Nebraska, SotTTHET's Life OF Nelson. Edited by Edwin L. Miller, A.M., of the Engle- wood High School, Illinois. Cabltle's Essay on Bubns. Edited by. Wilson Farrand, A.M., Associate Principal of the Newark Academy. Newark, N. J. De Qitincet's Flight of a Tartar iRiBE (Revolt of the Tartar.•*). Edited by Charles Sears Baldwin, Ph.D., Instructor in Rhetoric in Yale University. Tennyson's The Princess. E< Georee Edward Wood berry. Professor of Literature in C( OnDperf Edited by , A.B., 'olumbia George Eliot's Silab Maxkeh. Edited by Robert Herrick, Λ.Β., Assistant Professor of Rhetoric in the University of Chicago. Other Volumes are in Preparation. '-■riwa:fiifeBji^iail!»i)»i!Ji^jJiaitoji.:-i-.' ί-. », a..•».. >.'|.T. .... ... -i-f ...,■»■.-. • ■ * • t • • , f • ALEXANDER POPE \l.l Λ \ \ ΡΙ,ΐ; I'l τ IMHiliiaiMillittlil ϋΐϋϋϋϋι Congmans' gnglish (Clacgics POPE'S THE ILIAD OF HOMEE BOOKS L, Λ^Ι., XXII., AND XXIV. EDITED WITH NOTES AND AN INTRODUCTION BY WILLIAM H. MAXWELL, M.A. SUPERINTENDENT OF PUBLIC INSTRUCTION, BROOKLYN, N. Y. AND PERCR^AL CIIUBB INSTRUCTOR IN KNGLISH, MANUAL TRAINING HIGH SCHOOL, BROOKLYN, N. Y. ΝΕΛΥ YORK LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. LONDON AND BOMBAY 1896 ^ι^^£irf;^^■i■'^rii^ί^wί^■a.,^jJ.f3ήι■ i-wjA'«ai.i«niakMuiAe.si-:vtMa . . .•• :• •:: * : . • : , . • ••• ••• • • • • -,• ••• ••• >• • •• *'• * • • .: ..• CoPTRioHT, 1896 BY LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. All riglUs reserved » Press of J. J. Little & Co. Aetor Place, New York PREFACE Although tlie work of writing the Introduction and of editing the text was, at the outset, divided equally between us, the part for which each of us was primarily responsi- ble has been carefully gone over by the other ; and Ave trust that, as an outcome of mutual criticism and counsel, a unified result has been secured. As these four books of Pope's translation of the " Iliad " have been prescribed, under the College Entrance Kequire- ments, for reading, and not for detailed study, the Intro- duction and annotations may seem to be unnecessarily full. It may be explained that in tliis instance it has been thought well to keep in view the more general uses to which such a book may be put. Now that the study of Greek is declining in our schools, and Homer is read in the original by comparatively few people, a new im- portance attaches to those translations by means of which Homer and the other great writers of the Grecian world may be made known— however imperfectly at second hand— to the English reader. It is hoped that this selection from Pope's translation— the translation enjoyed so heartily by Byron as a boy, and by many other boys, famed and un- f-mied- may serve to introduce Homer as well as Pope, but especially Homer, and the ''ivide expanse " " That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne." Tlie text here used has been carefnlly coHated with the first edition and the later revised text as amended by Pope. The best readings have been followed. Here and there the peculiar punctuation and spelling of Pope's time have b ,1 ^ / " ij ΰ ο 4 'jeSUiia,uiik£SSAaaiuKsiA>^^'^^^•^^^ a^^jii τι PREFACE been altered to agree with modern usage ; but, as a gen- eral rule, all those peculiarities which have historical significance, and mark important differences between the usage of Pope's age and our own, have been retained. λΥθ have found it impossible, even were it desirable, to secure uniformity in the matter of Greek proper names. Pope generally uses the Latin equivalents for the Greek, while many of the commentators from whom we have quoted use the Greek, and their spelling of these varies. We have usually allowed the variations to stand. It is as well that the student should become acquainted with them, and there need be no confusion on this account. Brooklyn, July, 1896. W. IT. M. P. C. CONTENTS Introduction : I. Homer and tlie Iliad . II. Life iu Homeric Times HI. Alexander Pope : Ms Life, liis Age, and his Work IV. Pope's Homer Suggestions for Teachers . Chronological Table . The Iliad : Book I. • • • . ■ Arguments : Books II. -V. Book VI. . Arguments : Books VI I. -XXI. BookXXH. Argument : Book XXIII. . Book XXIV. . Map of the Troad and the Hellespont. PAGE ix xxii xxvii xli xlix Iv 3 34 36 63 71 96 96 1X11 INTKODUCTION I. Homer and the Iliad. Homer's ''Iliad," which Alexander Pope translated into English verse, is an epic poem written in the Greek toniiue *^ An epic " treats of one great, complex action, in a grand style, and with fulness of detail." The '' Iliad " is the oldest European epic poem that has come down to us; by many critics it is regarded as the greatest of all epic poems. Certainly it fulfils the conditions of the definition : it treats of a great complex action; it treats of that action in a grand style, and with fulness of detail. The action of the '' Iliad " is laid at a time anterior to authentic European history. Homer is '' the first author," says Professor Jebb, " who presents any clear or vivid pict- ure of Aryan civilisation." ''The poems of Homer," Mr. Gladstone declares, " do not constitute merely a great item of the splendid literature of Greece; but they have a separate position, to which none other can approach. They, and the manners they describe, constitute a world of their own; and are severed by a sea of time, whose breadth has not been certainly measured, from the firmly- set continent of recorded tradition and continuous fact. In this sea they lie, as a great island. And in this island we find not merely details of events, but a scheme of human life and character, complete in all its parts. λΥβ are- introduced to man in every relation of which he is capable— in every one of his arts, devices, institutions; in the entire circle of his experience." The scheme of human life and character to which we are introduced in the " Iliad " and that other great epic INTRODUCTION generally attributed to Homer— the 'Odyssey "—arose among the Achaeans. Long before the Greeks called themBelves Hellenes; long before the Dorians had invaded southern Greece; long before tlie three great divisions of the Hellenic race— the ^Eolians, the Dorians, and the lonians— were marked off, these Achaeans had settled in Thessaly, Boeotia, the greater part of the Peloponnesus, in ' the islands of the western coast, in Crete, and in some of the islands of Asia Minor. There they developed the civilisation that reveals itself in the poems of Homer, and that is attested by the excavations of Schliemann among the ruins of Mycenae. ^ From these two sources— the poems of Homer and pre- historic remains found in the ruins of buried cities, partic- ularly My ceuie, the chief city of the Aclupans— it is pos- sible to gain some idea of Achaean civilisation. That civilisation was essentially the result of aristocratic, as dis- tinguished from popular, rule. ^'The * Iliad ' and the * Odyssey,'" says Mr. Walter Leaf, ^-are essentially and above all court poems. They are composed to be sung in the splendid palaces of a ruling aristocracy, and the com- monalty have no part or lot as actors in them." Further- more, continues Mr. Leaf, '* they are the offspring of an advanced civilisation, the growth of centuries; and of a civilisation which was approaching its decline and fall." The opening lines of the '* Iliad," thus translated by Pope : '" Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring ' Of woes unnumber'd, heav'nly goddess, sing I " indicate the main subject of the poem— the__wr:ath of Achilles and its effects. With the incident that causes his wrath, it begins; when IngJvTayiis^i^pfiased, it ends. The poem is not, as the title might be supposed to imply, a history of the war waged by the Achseans against Ilium, or, as it was otherwise called, Troy; but an incident occupy- ing twenty-nine days in the last year of that war. Tlie INTRODUCTION XI war had broken out nine years before. According to the Homeric legend, it arose in this wise. Ilium, or Troy, was the capital of a kingdom situated on the northwest corner of Asia Minor, on the shores of the Hellespont. Priam was its king. His son Paris, visiting Greece, was enter- tained by Menelaus, King of Sparta. Paris persuaded Helen the most beautiful woman in the world, the wile ot Menel'aus, to elope with him. To avenge this wrong, Menelaus called upon all the kings of Greece to aid him. They were the more ready to do so, because, before Helen s marriage, she had been wooed by nearly all the great chief- tains of Greece, who had taken an oath to sustain her choice and to avenge her wrongs. A vaEthost set sail from Aulis in Boeotia for Troy. Agamemnon, king of Mycen^, the brother of Menelaus, was chosen general-m-chief. Under him served, besides Menelaus, Achilles, son of Pe- leus and the sea-goddess Thetis, the greatest of the Greek warriors; Ulysses, king of Ithaca; Ajax, the son of Tela- mon; Diomedes, king of Argos, the son of Tydeus; and Nestor, king of Pylos, the oldest of the Greek clueftams, whose name has become a synonym for sagacity. On the other side, King Priam was too old to take the field The leadership, therefore, fell to Hector, Priam s son, the greatest warrior of the Trojans. The other great Trojan chieftains were ^neas, son of Anchises and the goddess Venus, whom Virgil makes the hero of the *'^neid"; Deiphobus, another son of Priam; and Glau- cus and Sarpedon, leaders of the Lycian allies of Troy. During the nine years of unsuccessful war against Troy, the Grecian princes had made many petty conquests of neighboring cities and states. In the division of booty following one of these conquests, the maiden Chryseis had become the prize of Agamemnon. Her father, Chryses, a priest of Phoebus (Apollo), offers a prince y ransom for the restoration of his daughter, but is rudely repulsed by Agamemnon. Chryses then prays to Phcebus for vengeance. In answer, the god sends a pestilence on XI 1 IJSTRODUCTIOJS \τ f INTRODUCTION the Grecian Iiost. ί Mca general assembly, Achilles calls upon Calciias, the seer, to declare the cause of this pesti- lence. Calchas proclaims it to be the refusal of Agamem- non to accept ransom for Chryseis•. After a fierce debate, Agamemnon declares that he will resign Chryseis, but will take instead Briseis, a maiden awarded as a prize to Achilles. This tlireat he executes. Enraged at the affront thus put upon him, Achilles retires with his followers, the Myrmidons, to his tent by the shore, vows that he will fight for the Greeks no more,] and prays for aid to his mother Thetis. Thetis prevails upon Jupiter, the king of the gods, to promise that the Trojans shall be victorious in the war until justice is done and due honor is paid to her son Achilles. These events occu])y the first book. In the second book, Jupiter prompts Agamemnon to marshal the Grecian host ill the absence of Achilles. The next seven books rekUe the exploits of the other Greek heroes, and various acts of intervention on the part of the gods. During a truce, Menelaus and Paris fight a duel, on which the issue of the war is to depend; and Paris is saved from death only by the timely aid of Venus. Then the truce is broken by the Trojan Pandarus, who, at the crafty suggestion of Minerva, wounds Menelaus with an arrow. The gods and goddesses themselves take part in the fight. Diomedes slaughters many Trojans, and, with the aid of Minerva, wounds even Mars and \'enus. In the sixth book, Hector retires from the battle to Troy and bids farewell to his wife, Andromache. In the seventh book. Hector and Ajax engage in single combat, and the Greeks are compelled to build a wall to protect their camp from the Trojans. Jupiter then commands the gods to refrain from giving aid to eitlier side, while he himself gives the advantage to the Trojans. Fearing utter defeat, Agamemnon sends (ninth book) Ulysses, Ajax, and Phaiuix to Achilles, offering to restore Briseis and to make all due amends, if he will come to the aid of his countrymen. Achilles sternly refuses. xni Notwithstanding the prodigies of valor performed by the Greek chieftains. Hector and the Trojans continue to gain the upper hand, until, in the fifteenth book, they set fire to one of the Greek ships. Then Patroclus, the bosom friend of Achilles, begs and obtains permission to lead the Myrmidons to the rescue. Dressed in Achilles' armor, Patroclus checks the Trojan onslaught, and slays Sarpedou, the leader of the Lycians, but is himself slain by Hector. Overcome with grief at the loss of his friend, and burning to avenge his death, Achilles becomes reconciled to Agamemnon, and prepares for battle. Clad in armor specially wrought for him by \^ulcan, the god of fire and metallic art, he is the central figure of the battle. In the last eight books, '' the figure of Achilles towers aloft and overshadows every other. His grief is as portentous as his wrath." He slaughters the Trojans without mercy, and drives them within their walls. Finally he meets Hector in single combat, slays him, and drags his body, tied to his chariot, to the Greek camp. In the twenty- third book, Achilles pays the lact rites to his friend Patro- clus and institutes games in his honor. In the twenty- fourth book, the aged King Priam seeks the tent of Achilles to ransom the body of Hector. Achilles receives him courteously and accepts the ransom. The poem con- cludes with the burial rites for Hector in Troy. Such in brief is the story of the ''Iliad." Up to the close of the last century, it was generally believed that the *'Hiad" and the 'Odyssey" were the Λvork of a single poet. In 1 795, however, Friedrich August Wolf, a professor in the University of Halle, Prussia, published a work called ''Prolegomena to Homer," which was the beginning of a controversy that is not yet ended. Wolf contended that the Homeric poems were originally lays or ballads, composed separately, and handed down by memory without the aid of writing. These lays were afterwards reduced to writ- ing, patched together into their present form, and "pol- ished and amended " by a number of editors, probably in XIV INTRODUCTION INTJiODVCTION XV the age of Pisistratus (about 550 B.C.). He founds his conclusions, first, on the alleged lack of writing in the Achaean age; second, on the existence of certain inconsis- tencies in the narrative; and, third, on the presence, in some parts of the poem, of less archaic grammatical forms than in other parts. To these arguments, the answer is made that it is by no means certain that Homer was ignorant of writing; that the retention in the memory of a poem as long as the "Iliad" is not an impossible feat; and that, as to the inconsistencies in plot and language, "the old bards were not singing for minute inquirers and gramma- rians, but for people who freely, and even recklessly, gave play to their fancy as they listened." ^ While there are now few scholars, if any, who believe that the " Iliad " remains to-day as it Avas recited by Homer in the halls of Achsean princes, yet the prevailing opinion is that the "Iliad," if it is not "one epic by one hand,' yet containc, though with additions of a later day, "one epic by one hand." The proof is the unity of the plot that runs throughout the poem — it treats of " one great, complex action." Do Quincey ingeniously shows this unity of plot by tracing backwards the various steps through which it advances: ** Every canto," he says, •' in this main section implies every other. Thus the funeral of Hector implies that his body had been ransomed. That fact implies the whole journey of Priam to the tents of Achilles. Tliis journey, so fatiguing to the aged king, and, in the compulsory absence of his bodyguard, so alarming to a fee- ble old prince, implies the death and capture of Hector. For no calamity less than that could have prompted such an extreme step as a suppliant and perilous pilgrimage to the cajutal enemy of his house and throne. But how should Hector and Achilles have met in battle, after the wrathful vow of Achilles ? That argues the death of Patroclus as furnishing the sufBcient motive. But the death of Patroclus argues the death of Sarpedon, the Trojan ally, which it was that roused the vindictive fury of Hector. These events in their turn argue the previous success of the Trojans, wliich had * Andrew Lang, Bbmertmd the Epic, p. 79. τ i * Α,.,1 \h\^ success of the Trojans tation." u , tl,U k not all The plot of the " Iliad " evolves tlie a consiaerable section ot tl.c a a «.tastropl.e, and ,„ost fnll of n,otion. «^ ''"'"^' . ^'^^'^ί;.:',, eiple, a ehavaeter the throngli whiel. runs, as the <-""'"=«"- „^ ,,^^^. eould „o.t brilliant, '"'V-annnous a. bU U I ,.„ ^ ^^^^^^ ^^ ^ eonueivo-^... '^^^^^^^φ that section ot the ' Iliad' ,,„gle nnnd^ J;~J^ oi .h\.^^ looks forward and backward to m a series of phages, evcnu thron"h his diurnal course, all the rest. He travels like the «in th>o .h ^^^ ^,^^ We sec him first of al rising u^on u. . ^i Ρ mcel y ._^^^^^^^^ ,^ ^^.^ welfare of the Grecian host W e see m '^^^^ ^nd boil- ,ng with you hful l'lo"| ' "^^ ^ though having now so retiring in clouded n.a estv l^vui i (,^ ,^^,,.,^ο of the early excellent a plea for '«"'"f ,''"'; 7='/ ^"^tiHins to profit by the eva- death that awaited I-" > . I^ t\h td fidl and generously sion. We see him still '^'"^ "'';„,„„; ι„ deserted him. We unable to '^f'' ^^^^ .dmUngaU t'le duties of religion, see him in a dignified "-'^ " "^^^''^,,^^ Ushed man ot taste, cnl- fviendship hospital^ and, ^'■^^^^^^^J ^ ,„ surrendering his tivating the arts °' P"™: „ J,,i,„,iship. that he comes forth at rrthe"r,a:n:.Te 1:1, ":f nalis fiy tr.i the sound. Never but onee again is such a shout recorded by a poet . ,, . He ealld so loud , that all the hollow deep Of hell resounded.' η 1 ■) ThnI «hout was the shout of an archangel. Next we Who called? i/iai snoui wnt> ι . „„„f f,.;„n,l to assume his own χ ν 1 INTRODUCTION INTRODUCTION XTll suggest, that not the divine weapons but the iin mortal arm of the wielder had made thera invincible. His friend perishes. Then we see him rise in his noontide wrath, before wliicli no life could stand. The frenzy of his grief makes him for a time cruel and implacable. He sweeps the field of battle like a monsoon. His revenge descends perfect, sudden, like a curse from heaven. We now recognize the goddess-born. This is his avatar— the incarnate descent of his wrath. Had he moved to battle under the ordinary impulses of Ajax, Diomed, and the other heroes, we never could have sympa- thised or gone along with so withering a course. We should have viewed liim as a 'scourTO of God,' or fiend, born for the tears of wives and the maledictions of mothers. But the poet, before he Λvould let him loose upon men, creates for him a suflicient, or at least palliating, motive. In the sternest of liis acts we read only the anguisli of his grief. This is surely the perfection of art. At length the worlv of destruction is finished ; but if the poet leaves him at this point, there would bo a want of repose, and we should be left with a painful impression of his hero as forgetting the earlier humanities of ids nature, and brought forward only for final exhibi- tion in his terrific phases. Now, therefore, by machinery the most natural, wo see this p:iramount hero travelling back within our gen- tler sympathies, and revolving to his rest like the vesper sun dis- robed of his blazing terrors. Wo see him settling dowli to that humane and princely character in which he had been first exhibited ; we see him relenting at the sight of Priam's gray hairs, touched with the sense of human calamity, and once again mastering his passion (grief now) as formerly he had mastered his wrath. He con- sents that his feud shall sleep ; he surrenders the cor|)se of his capi- tal enemy ; and the last farewell chords of the poem rise with a solemn intonation from the grave of ' Hector, the tamer of horses '— that noble soldier who had so long been the column of his country, and to whom, in his dying moments, the stern Achilles had declared —but then in the middle career of his grief— that no honorable burial should ever be granted." Fiirtlierinore, the *' Iliad " discloses not only a unity of plot, but a unity of style. Homer, says Mr. Gladstone, is *' the most characteristic of all poets." " Traits personal to himself inhere in his whole work, and perpetually reap- pear upon the surface." Matthew Arnold has pointed out four of the most striking of these traits:^ Homer is * Matthew Arnold, On Translating Homer, p. 149. \ ■ n,r vnr,i,l in his movement; Homer is eminently T-"Tnd d r b th η the evolution of his thought and plain and direct, boin ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ ;:Lto:riZer1s";m-::nti; plain and direct in the ilance 'of his thought, that is, ^^^ζ^^Ι^:^^' and, finally, Homer is em"-""tly -b^e η 1- m--';. j::ip^:s^r^^^^ Κπ - found r; οΪΪΧΐ• •• il ton is perha is the best exemplar of the se, 'O'^'^J'' [\ ,. . „ ^ijeii the poet compresses a world grand style in seventy, wui- i «oet's mind is Zf tViniKTlit into a few words— when me put υ ο 1 fin c a ged to suffer him to speak more explici ly. ΐΐ ΐ lo tnffrom Wordsworth is an example which no ine cai miX and which should be borne in mind as a " touchstone " to apply to other poetry •■ The ante-chai>el, where the statue .food 0( Newton with liis prism ami silent face. The marble inaex ot a luiml for «••'" Vovagins thfough strange seas of thought, alone. ^ \ 1 r^-^o " Thp following from the twentj-iouiLu and clearness. J-ne luuuwiu^^ book is a perfect ilUistration : iXoVZ^ocpa.o.o nor I 6ro,a χεΙρ opeye60a. 1 1 fV,o liU'p whereof no soul upon the earth " ''"'' ' Γ", 'teat; to η u; t^^ hand of him who slew my hath yet endured— to cany lo my n^a "".'''The noble manner of Homer," ^-J^ ^fζ^J^t, .. ,.„as itself with equal ease to ovei^ m^^o — ^^ r;;:r;^;a:rbrifis^tt=ti.tiiyitseifin t i„^ji^^ XV III INTRODUCTION INTRODUCTION XIX shedding a uuiiuy or tender grace over the gentlest or homeliest of scenes." ^ In the use of the simile, Professor Jebb points out another cluinicteristic of Homer's style. " The iirst point to observe," he says, *'is that Homeric simile is not a mere ornament. It serves to introdnce something which Homer desires to render exceptionally impressive— some moment, it may be, of peculiarly intense action— some sight, or sound, full of wonder, or terror, or pity— in a word, something great. He wishes to prepare us for it by first describing something similar, only more familiar, which he feels sure of being able to make us see clearly." To this end he takes pains to give all the details of the *' something similar" that are necessary to impart clear- cut, sharp outlines to the picture. ** When Homer," continues Professor Jebb, "compares A to B, he will often add details concerning Β which have no bearing on the comparison. For instance, when the sea-god Poseidon soars into the air from the Trojan plain, he is compared to a hawk (xiii., 63), — ' That from a beetling brow of rock Launched in mid air forth dashes to pursue Some lesser bird along the plain below : ' but Poseidon is not pursuing anyone; the point of simili- tude is solely the speed through the air." The detail in the tliird line is added **to place a concrete image before the mind." "The hawk, for example, to Λvhonl Posei- don is likened, is more vividly conceived when it is described as doing a particular act characteristic of a hawk, viz., pursuing another bird." **Tho poet's delight in a pict- ure," Professor Jebb continues, '*and the Hellenic love of clear-cut form, are certainly present; but both are subordinate to a sense that the object which furnishes the ' R. C. Jebb, Ebmer : an Introduction to the Iliad and the Odyssey, p. 18. I I simile must be distinct before the simile itself can be effective." ^ gj^^ow each of his great Aga.n, »°* ^^'y ΐ^l^,f;i.,αivid„ality of character, but personages with a stulviBn »i^ ^portraiture of each iu- ie is in the maux cons.s ent ]-,P°S Lit has been f 'id Γϋί Q i. -y in tt case of Achilles. The described by Ue '^" "l^^ j ^^ epitomizes the more and the *^ Odyssey": ..κ..„ direct >-\:^:^,^ζ^^ς::::^ι^ Such, in the first Ρ ';-:;::;,''^η Γ^/η ,d η so.-ro«, capable also of type ot heroic .night, \.olent '" ''"7" j,,^ ,,,,„ of resource- ch valrous and tc.dcr >^°"'P='*^"'" ' ^.^,\'!'l;, e in whom the power iul intelligence joined to hei-oic -"^^ since the of Hon,er is seen even ^f^'j^^^^^,,,, ^ncceeded in effacing debased Odysseus of late Grk poetry r^ ^^^ ^^^ ^,,^ the nobler image of his Homenc «"οίη insight- Homevic types of women. -/''^'"'^'^^^Ϊ^^^'^Χ, Γ losing Hector, Andromache, the young w,te ''"^ J^;'^ ';^™ j, ^er lo^g-absent „ust lose .^1 ; P-f J!', ;:::r'; ::t:Sc,ear:sighted, keenly sen- lord ; the Helen of the l'""• ^™' '. ^, ^^ι^η of the ' Odys- sitive to any kindness shown her at, Troy U,e ^^^^,^^ sev,' restored to honor in her home at Spart^a ^^^^ ^^„j {«ct so beautiful in the dawning promise «J ^ "«^l; J;—** y,J Aga- in her delicacy, her grace, ''"'I h'^'• «^"".'"'^""'"X Homeric epic ™emnon to Thersites there is no P';^»-^^"* '^£ "neh we c'a η on whom Homer has j" ^ ;';' of rara'^ter Le marked as feel as distinctive. Hit- dnine t>pe» ._Zeus, the imperi- clearly, and in the same '"•-""; j^^tmi""- n'^olerant of con.pet- ous but genial ruler °t";';^«'>;;>X actions or his appetites ; ing might, but manageable thiough 1.1. a i^_ihc advance- Hera, his wife, who never \--;^^„'^'/lt\i'„^f mutinous petulance „ent ot ^^^^^■'^fj^l^iXt: ; he point at which her lord's istemperedbyatemnineiieiccpu 1 blandishments; character requires that f ''^^^''""''^^ .f ' ,f letive in upholding the Apollo, the minister of d^•^*. the piophet, ae y ^^^^^^^_ ^l^J:tZ^:^' n«en• opposed to the purposes of XX INTRODUCTlOJSr ν INTRODUCTION XXI Zeii?,— at once a mighty goddo^^ of war, and the goddess who pre- sides over art and industry.*' « If then, the " Iliad " possesses unity of plot; if its style is throughout marked by the same characteristics— rapid- ity in movement, plainness and directness in language, plainness and directness in thouglit, nobleness in manner, and fulness of detail in similitudes; and if its types of character are consistent with themselves— the conclusion is difficult to resist that tlie poem was substantially the work of one man, Λνΐιο is called Homer. Changes there liave been in the text, no doubt; interpolations there have been, also; and probably large additions: but the original ''Iliad'' that fell from Homer's lips is the groundwork— is the chief part— of the -'Iliad" translated by Alexander Pope. ''The aesthetic critic," says John Addington Symonds, "finds no difficulty in conceding, nay, is eager to claim, a long genealogy through antecedent, now forgotten, poems of the 'Iliad.' But about this, of one thing, at any rate, he will be sure, after due experience of the tests applied by Wolf and his followers, that a great artist gave its present form to the 'Iliad;' that he chose from the whole Trojan tale a central subject for development; and that all the episodes and collateral matter with which he enriched his epic were arranged by him with a view to the effect that he had calculated." Who, then, was Homer ? When and where did he live ? No definite answer can be made to these questions. The conclusion reached by the majority of scholars— a conclu- sion derived chiefly from the internal evidence of the poems themselves— is that the author of the *" Iliad " was a European Greek, who lived before the Greek colonies were planted in Asia Minor. Many cities, the list of which Cicero embodied in a hexameter line, — "Smyrna, Cliios, Colophon, Salamis, Ehodes, Argos, Athen»," claimed to be the birthplace of Homer; but their claims , 1 I probably mean no more than that these places were at various times centres of interest in Homeric poetry A more important question arises as to bow far the "Iliad " within a mass of mythological and poetic lore, embadies a kernel of historic fact. The discoveries of Schliemann and others at Mycena. and Tiryns in Argolis the former of which Homer represents as the capita of Igaieninon's kingdom, reveal a P-historic civulisa^ion which scholars generally agree in regardmg as Acb^an. Furthermore, Schliemann has proved that in the iioad- Sie reZ'n which the "Iliad" locates Troy-there a laUv existed a great city that flourished in pi.-hist^r|c times before the planting of the Greek colonies in Asia MTno'r The exact localising of the scenes of the poem Sves color to the assumption that before he dawn of hktory a great Achaean armament, under the leadership of Agamemnon, invaded and conquered the Troad, or land The^Troad is the northwestern promontory of Asia Minor It is bounded on the north by the Hellespont (Dardanelles), and the western part of the Propontis Sea of Marmora) on the west, by the iEgean Sea; on the south, by the Gulf of Adramyttium; and on the east, by the range of Mt. Ida. Through this territory l^ie river fcamander (the modern name is Mendere) flows first west and then lorthwest from Mt. Ida to the Hellespont. From he point where the Scamander empties into the Hellespont, a plain extends north along the coast about eight miles with a varying breadth from east to west ο from two to tliree miles. In this plain there are two sites of ancient cities, both of which have been claimed as the sites ot Homer's Troy. One of these is the flat nio-^'id of His«ii^ lik, elevated about one hundred and twelve feet above the open plain, in which Dr. Schliemann found, below the remains of Greek cities, the first of which was probably founded about 700 B.C., the remains of a pre-historic town which he identified as Troy. Professor Jebb, on the other i XXll INTRODUCTION INTRODUCTION xxui hand, liolcls that this town does not fulfil the description of Homer, who tells of a city with a high acropolis, or cit- adel, from whicli precipitous rocks descend to the plain beneath. He prefers to locate Troy, not at Hissarlik, but on the hill called Bali Dagh, above the village of Bunar- bashi, near the southern extremity of the Trojan plain. This hill exactly answers Homer's description. It has a height of about four hundred feet, with sheer precipices descending on the south and southwest to the valley of the Scamander. It also contains the remains of an ancient city. Until quite recently it was supposed that two springs or wells to the northwest of this hill are identical with tlie two springs mentioned in the twenty-second book. If such springs exist, the evidence in favor of the latter site would be well nigh conclusive. Explorers are now, however, pretty well agreed either that no sucli springs— one hot and one cold— ever existed in the plain of Scaman- der, or that they have disappeared. The springs that tit Homer's description are twenty miles distant, on" the slope of Mt. Ida. The controversy over these two sites— that at Hissarlik and tliat at Bali Dagh— is still waging among archieologists, and will be settled only by some conclusive discorery. II. Life ix Ηομεκιγ Times. Whatever theory may be held as to the amount of his- toric truth in the tale of Troy, tliere can be no doubt that Homer describes, probably with poetical exaggeration, a political, social, and religious life t!iat had a real exist- ence. As some knowledge of this life is necessarv to an intelligent reading of the ** Iliad," the main points are briefly presented: 1. Geof/raphtf. —The earth is imagined as a round plane, encircled by the river Oceauus. The sky is the roof of the earth, supported by pillars which the giant Atlas (supposed by mytliologists to represent the sen) supports. The only /Λ regions with which Homer is accurately acquainted are Greece and the northwest corner of Asia Minor. The generic name for the Greeks is Ach^ans. They are also called Argives, because of the prominent part taken by Ariios in the war; and Danai, another name for Argives, because Danaus, the grandson of the sea-god Poseidon, Avas the reputed founder of Argos and ancestor of the race. The name '^Achiean Argos" includes the greater part of the Peloponnesus; while the term ''Pelasgian Argos" indicates Thessaly. In Asia Minor, in addition to the Troad, Homer refers to Maeonia, now identified with Lydia; Phrygia, and the islands of Tenedos, Imbros, Samothrace,*^ Lesbos, and Lemnos. He also refers to the Egyptian Thebes, Phoenicia, and Si(ion, to the ^'^Ethi- op°es " in the south, and to the '' Pygmies " who dwell by the banks of Oceauus. 2. Political Life,— The head of the state is the king (basileus) who rules by hereditary and divine right. The king is general in time of war, supreme judge, president of the co\mcil of elders and of the assembly of the whole people, and, in public sacrifices, chief priest. In the Tro- jan war, the other kings forming the council hold the same relation to Agamemnon that local elders do to a local king. The Avhole army constitutes the assembly. Its members, however, do nothing more than assent to the propositions debated by the kings. When Thersites, one of the '' commons," attempts to dispute Avith Agamemnon, he is rebuked and beaten by Ulysses, to the great amuse- ment of the army. 3. Religion.— The gods, among wdiom Zeus is supreme, dwell "'• apart " on the top of Mount Olympus in Thessaly, in palaces built by Hephaestus, the artificer of their order. ^^The basis of Homeric religion," says Professor Jebb, '' is the feeling that ' all men have need of the gods,' and that the gods are quickly responsive to this need, if they are duly worshipped." The means of worship are sacri- fice and prayer. In Homer, the individual offers sacrifice XXIV JNTUODCCTIOX directly, not through i)rie«ts. The priest (hiereiis) is known only as the keeper of a local shrine, and should be distiiiiruished from the soothsayer (mantis). As Pope u«e8 both the Latin and the Greek names of the divinities accordinsf to the exigencies of his verse, tlie name.^ are here presented in both forms: Greek. Σαι in. Cronus. Saturn. Zeus. Jupiter, Jove. Hades. Pluto. Poseidon. Xeptune. Ares Mars. Hephapstus. Vulcan. Phoebus- A polio. Apollo, Hermes. Mercury. Dionysus. liacchus. Hera. Juno. Pallas- Athene. Minerva. Aphrodite. Venus. Artemis. Diana. 4. Faie.^Closely connected with religious ideas is the idea of fate, as something which controls the lives and actions of men, and to which even the gods must bow, as when, in Book xxii., Jove weighs the fates of Achilles and Hector. Fate, under the metaphor of a spinner of thread, is usually represented as laying out a man's destiny at birth,' assigning to liim both good and evil. The idea of evil! however, is usually more prominent; often fjite stands for the weaver of a death doom. ΊΊ)e "Three Fates" are the product of a later mythology. 5. T/ie Fawilfj.—'^ The ties"of tlie Janiily,'' savs Pro- fessor Jebb, *'are sacred in every relation. —between hus- band and ivife, parent and chik'l, kinsman and kinsman. Polygamy is not found among the Greeks." Tlie touch- ing picture of Hector and Andromache in the sixth book, shows the position of respect and lionor held by the wife and mother in the household. INTRODUCTION XXV 6. Slavery.— Slavery existed. It was the doom of prisoners of war. The slaves served in the household; they were not bound to the soil (adscripti glelm). The slave could hold property. Yet the loss of manhood and respect involved in slavery was generally recognized. 7. A moral km.— Themis, ''custom established by dooms," acts as a restraining influence within recognized relationships. ''In the very groundwork of both the 'Iliad' and the 'Odyssey,' the cause of Greece and the cause of Odysseus, which gain the upper hand, are each the cause of right, justice, and the family order" (Glad- stone). ** Ko small proportion of writers in the Christian period fail to carry our instincts of approval and disap- proval to their proper aims Λvith the unfailing rectitude of Homer" (Gladstone). "There is no trace among the Homeric Greeks of Oriental vice or cruelty in its worst forms" (Jebb). The feeling of disapproval that follows the breaking of themis is called aidos, "sense of honor," "shame." Ne^nesis, "righteous indignation," is the feeling with which a Homeric Greek regarded a breach of themil in another. Outside of relations established by custom, themis was not recognized. Hence it is that '•manners of the noblest chivalry and truest refinement are strangely crossed by traits of coarseness or ferocity. There are moments when the Homeric hero is almost a savage " (Jebb). The Erinyes, or Furies, are the powers that punish sins against the family, the aged, and the poor. 8. The .4r/s.— Hewn and polished stone is used for building, but statuary or figure sculpture in stone is apparently unknown. Gold, silver, and bronze are used for decorating armor, cups, furniture, etc. 9. />ye56•.— Homer's man wears a loin cloth or drawers {zoma), a shirt or tunic {chiton), under a mantle {chlaina). His woman wears a robe reaching to her feet, and gathered at the waist by a girdle {zone). '' On her head she some- times wears a high, stiff coif, over the middle of which passes a many-colored twisted band, while a golden fillet i XXVl INTRODUCTION glitters at the front. Eitlier from the coif, or directly from the crown of the head, a veil falls over the shoulders and back." 10. Armor, —A German writer, Dr. Wolfgang Keicliel, has recently shown that tlie views hitherto held with regard to Homeric armor are erroneous. The following state- ment is summarized from the account of Dr. Keichers researches given in Leaf and Bayfield's edition of the *' Iliad." The chief pieces of Homeric armor are the shield, the greaves, the belt, the helmet, the spear, and the sword. The shield {aspis) was composed of several layers of ox- hide of a circular shape, firmly stitched together. The edges are drawn inward (toward the holder) at two points a little above the horizontal diameter. Λ piece of Avood runs from top to bottom of the shield, close against the leather. Another piece of wood is placed horizontally between the two points where tlie edges are drawn inwards. The middle part of the latter serves as a handle. The outer face of the shield is covered with metal, laid on in concentric rings and highly ornamented, as was the shield of Achilles. Studs of metal {omphaloi) were disposed round the circumference. The shield was suspended by a broad baldrick of leather, which passed under the righ't arm and rested on the left shoTilder. AVhen hanging from the shoulder in front, it readied from the neck to the mid- dle of the shin. ''It was the great weight of the shield that led to the use of the war-chariot, which, as the poems show, the warriors did not employ to fight from, but as a means of rapid transport from one part of the field to another." Shields were also made in rectangular or half- cylinder form. The greaves {hiemides) were gaiters of leather or soft metal like tin. They went all around the leg and were tied with strings at the knee. They were Λνοπι not as a protection against the foe, but to prevent the cliafing of the legs by the edge of the shield. •-^..1 INTRODUCTION xxvii The thorex has been generally regarded as a corselet or breast-plate of metal, composed of two pieces, one for the back and one for the breast. Reichel regards it as simply a generic term for armor. This interpretation is, however, very doubtful. The breast-plate was an important part of Greek armor in historic times. The belt (mitre) was a band of metal worn round the waist, broad in front, and tapering toward the extremi- ties, which were attached behind the back. The helmet (Korus) was constructed of leather overlaid with metal. It was secured by a strap under the chin. It was sur- mounted at the top by a plume, but had no metal '' crest " like the later Greek helmet, nor had it either visor or cheek pieces. Archers wore, instead of a shield, the complete skin of an animal dressed with the hair. The head of the skin was fastened over the left shoulder. As archers did not carry shields, they did not wear greaves. The spear was the chief offensive weapon. It was hurled from the hand like the javelin of later times. The swords (xipltos) found at Mycenae are about three feet long, broad at the hilt, double-edged, and tapering to a sharp point. They appear to have been used for the thrust rather than the stroke. They are often decorated with pictures of running animals. The war-chariot (harma) contained space for two, the driver and the warrior. It had a curved rim in front and at the sides, was entered from behind, and was drawn generally by two horses, sometimes by three. III. Alexander Pope: His Life, his Age, and HIS Work. It may be taken for granted that in reading Pope's translation of the *'Iliad," the student's interest will, at the outset, be absorbed by Homer's fascinating story. By and by it will i)robably extend to Homer himself, the ! ir;■■-■« jl•- ... I f hi xxvm INTRODUCTION Story-teller. Finally, it may widen so as to include Pope, the interpreter between the reader and the great Greek whose language (we will assume) he does not understand. He must be cautioned not to slight Pope, and be helped to appreciate at their high worth the services of an inter- preter who sought by the most careful art to communicate, not merely the sense of the Greek poet's words, but some- thing of their power and grace. Let him realize the fact that this work of interpretation has been done by an acknowledged master of English speech, himself one of the first of poets ; and that it has independent value as an English classic. All great translations, the Bible, Dry- den's *' Mrgil," Browning's ** Euripides," have this twofold significance. They belong to two literatures: they are nioniiments both of the genius of the original Avriter and his times, and of the genius of the translator and his lit- erary epoch. Having treated in the preceding sections of Homer and his work, we have now to consider Pope and his. We may then be able to recognize and account for the special merits and shortcomings of his translation, and to see the relation which it bears to his other work. If the student, after reading carefully tlie work of Pope here given, will dip into the most famous of his original poems, he will probably be struck at once by tlie fact that they are all cast in the same form, and have most obvious uniformities of style. They are all written in the ten-syl- lable couplet; and they exhibit the same clear, terse, spir- ited, epigrammatic manner. These similarities will serve to explain the basis of Pope's reputation as a writer, and the place which he holds in the history of English literature. He is regarded as the greatest master of this special style of his in the heroic couplet, and, on this account, as the representative poet of the literary epoch to which he belongs—an epoch of effort to attain those qualities of clearness, finish, and liveliness in wliich his best work is unrivalled. Let us try to understand how and why this is 60. ί INTRODUCTION XXIX The quiet age of Pope succeeded the agitated age of Shakspere and Milton, of Bacon and Sir Thomas Browne; and it was in reaction against the exuberant spirit of that age. If we turn from the works of the earlier to those of the later period, we shall be conscious at once of a great change of atmosphere, of literary tone. It is as if we had passed from a company of mercurial, impressionable fel- lows, easily moved to tears or laughter, full of a deep sense of the dramatic changes and issues of life, — its terrible tragedy, its exquisite pathos, its humorous follies; had passed from these to a circle of clever but rather cold- blooded and cynically-disposed gentlemen, whom the spec- tacle of life thrills with no such impassioned feelings, but is a source of mild interest and amusement. What a cool- ing off of the heats of passion there has been ! What studied conventionalities of manner have come into vogue! We miss in the work of these men of the later time the imagi- native power, the quick-pulsing feeling, the lyrical sweet- ness and tenderness, the penetrating insight of their fore- runners of the great Elizabethan era. Do we find nothing new to admire? Surely we do. We feel a certain charm in the easy, composed manners of these more decorous and formal gentlemen. We are entertained by the skilful parry and thrust of their Avit, — coarse, very coarse, and even cynically brutal at times, to be sure; but more often incisive and entertaining. We are instructed by the stud- ied felicities of their speech; the pointed phrase, the compact epigram, the clear, clinching sentences. The broken, involved, and turgid utterances of the men of passion and imagination have given way to the precise, brief, uninvolved periods of the men of sober sense and ingenious fancy. Pope, more than any other writer, represents this reac- tion of a rather prim formalism against the inspired informalism of the Elizabethan age. He sums up, as no one else does, the losses and the gains of the change. He brings into clear relief the special importance and the dis- aiuitia I XXX INTRODUCTION INTRODUCTION XXXI y tinctive acliievement of the Restoration period; a period devoted to the study of literary form; a period in which Englislirnen learned for the first time how to write lucid })rose; a period in which even poetry, depressed by the prosaic tendencies of the age, lent itself to this task of teaching men how to express themselves with clearness, precision, orderliness, and effect. Roughly speaking, this period covered about a century — the century that gives us Addison, Steele, Defoe, Swift, Johnson, Goldsmith, the earliest masters of a well-wrought prose style. It was ushered in by Dryden (1G31-1700), who mediates between the age of Milton (1608-1674) and that of Pope (1688-1744). In the work of Dryden, espe- cially iu his classical essays on the drama, the restrained analytical spirit of the new critical epoch was apparent; and his own prose, cured of the extravagances and the strag- gling looseness of the prose of Milton's time, was its first notable product In the growth of the analytical spirit,' the new regard for form, the new search for the laws of literary structure, the influence of France counted for much. The great French writers of the time had been the pioneers in the territory of a new criticism based on an enthusiastic study of the ancients, Bossuet, Fenelon, and Pascal, Corneille, Moliere, Racine, and other distinguished \vriters whom Louis Xl\ . had gathered about him at the French court, were much read and admired. The great poet and critic Boileau became a sort of lawgiver to English writers. His " Art of Poetry " (1673) was repro- duced in an English translation that was revised by Dry- den, and it was the basis of Pope's famous * 'Essay on Criticism." Dryden, who in his later years showed great sensitiveness to these Gallic influences, was, it should be remembered, Pope's master, and transmitted the new ten- dencies to Pope. Literature reflects life; and we have been taught by one powerful school of modern critics to seek explanation of the varying phases of literary and artistic development in β '<Λ the social and political changes of the centuries. In the case of Pope it is certainly true that there is a very close connection between litei-ature and life, and that much of what he wrote is explicable only in tlie light of the history of his times. Not only the spirit of his age, but its events and personages, are reflected in his pages. So personal and contemporary in its allusions is much of his best work that, as ^Ir. Leslie Stephen says, "fully to elucidate his poems, a commentator requires to have at his fingers' ends the whole chronique scandaJeuse of the day." This is un- fortunate, so far as the young student of Pope's work and influence is concerned. The chronicles of scandal are not edifying reading; and the voluminous records of Pope's time are a most unsavory and unwholesome diet. However, Mr. Stephen's statement is perhaps a little misleading, a little too sweeping. There is a good body of Pope's work that may be enjoyed without delving very deep into this malarious soil of scandal. The translations, of course, the '' Essay on Criticism," the '' Moral Essays," even the ** Rape of the Lock," are free from the infection. Unfor- tunately, however. Pope's maturest, strongest, most indi- vidual work, — the ''Satires," and the "Dunciad," — in fact, all those pieces in which the age, its personages, and its manners are brought vividly before us, — is the work to which Mr. Stephen's remarks apply. The more the spirit of the age finds expression in Pope's work, tlie less admi- rable is it as regards its substance; for the spirit of the age was one of intrigue, jealousy, slander, and bitter abuse. It was an age stirred by no great issues, conscious of no' great tasks. The heroic temper was for the time dead; men's aims and interests were petty and trivial. The leaders of men were little better than political gamesters, and they laid hands upon literature to serve their ends. Hence it came that the Avriters, bribed by political patron- age, shared the partisan spirit, and Avere divided into two envious camps of Whigs and Tories. Only a few of the greater writers — and, happily, Pope was among them — Mite'aJ * -fi^ .jjf,iA^^S*,f^i3!>fi^f ifav >«• *■ t ,. %■ -^j. 'A^n/vh^x' .-τ. XXXil INTRODUCTION retained their integrity and independence, and rose above the strife and plotting of factions. With no momentous questions to decide, the people set- tled down to an easy-going life of pleasure, and beguiled the idle time with endless gossip and scandal. Country life was voted tiresome; and those who could do so, flocked to the towns for excitement. In London the fashionable dabbled in literature; and the wits and beaux either amused themselves with the clever talkers and scribes at the coffee-houses and clubs, or enjoyed the fripperies and follies of the Mall, where fashion disported itself. Superior as Pope was in many respects to the average lit- erary man of liis time, the taint of the age is upon him. In trutli, there is very little in his character or personal his- tory that is lovable and engaging. He shows some noble traits which mitigate the severity of the judgment that has to be passed upon him on the score of the numerous contemptible acts of which he was guilty; but despite these good qualities, his life was unlovely and his personality unattractive—even repellent. The curse of his disposi- tion was vanity, with its accompanying vices, pride and jealousy; and it led him to bend at times to acts of incred- ible meanness and dece])tion. It made him ridiculously sensitive to and resentful of criticism, and foolishly cov- etous of praise and flattery. He could be savagely mali- cious toward liis enemies, and occasionally he sacrificed his friends to this all-consuming passion. The basis of his irritability was physical. He was dis- eased ; sickly as a child, and weak and deformed through- out his life,— *' this long disease, my life," as he pathet- ically speaks of it in the autobiographical epistle to Arbuthnot. He became, in consequence, the butt of wits whom he had offended; for example, waspish old John Dennis, the critic, w^ho, unsparing of the coarse and copi- ous invective of the time, did not hesitate to make scornful reference to his '* contemptible person" as that of "a downright monkey." Smarting under such indignities. INTRODUCTION ΧΣΧ111 I Pope deigned to strike back with similar weapons of abuse. This is all very deplorable ; and little is to be gained by dwelling upon such failings. We will turn then from Pope, the vain, scheming, unscrupulous man, to Pope the writer, single-minded in his pursuit of literary excellence. '^No man," says Mr. Stephen, ''ever displayed a more exclusive devotion to literature, or was more tremblingly sensitive to the charm of literary glory. His zeal was never distracted by any rival emotion. Almost from his cradle to his grave his eye was fixed unremittingly upon the sole purpose of his life." This dominating ambition led him to fight a brave, life-long battle against his inher- ited weakness and other disadvantages (notably that of being a Catholic) which handicapped him from the outset. The boy was only twelve years old when, after a desultory education, he left school to settle down with his parents in their quiet country home at Binfield, near Windsor. Already he had virtually decided upon a literary career; and, forming a plan of study, he began at once to serve a laborious apprenticeship in the craft of letters. He read unceasingly, to the further injuring of his health, and he wrote very much by way of practice. Never did a youth set himself more deliberately to work to acquire the art of writing, and to give effect to the conviction that one may prepare oneself for tlie difficult vocation of the writer, as for any other professional calling, by hard work. We are reminded of the young Milton, with his priest-like dedica- tion of himself to a similar calling; and of young Keats, early engaged in the strenuous service of the Muses. But perhapslilie best parallel is one drawn from our own times; the instance of Robert Louis Stevenson, who, as a boy, was stirred by a like ambition, and strove in the same delib- erate way to become a master of speech. Stevenson's con- fession is worth quoting for the light it throws on a tem- perament and an ambition such as Pope's. " I had vowed," he says, when reviewing his boyish aspirations, XXXIV INTRODUCTION that I -would learn to write. That was a proficiency hat tempted me; and I practised to acquire it, as men learn to whittle, in a wager with myself. . . . Wlien- ever I read a book or a passage that particularly pleased me, . . . II, which theie was either some conspicuous force or some happy distinction in the style, I must sit down at once and set myself to ape that quality. I was unsuccessful, and I knew it; and tried again, and was again unsuccessful, and always unsuccessful; but at least in these vain bouts I got some practice in rhvthm. in har- mony, in construction, in the coordination of parts, rhat, like It or not, is the way to learn to write." Yes" in that way Pope learned. He imitated his favorite poetsi he tried all styles, and handled the most varied subjects. Before he was fifteen he had composed an epic in which he endeavored to reproduce in different parts the beauties of f^ryden, Milton, Cowley, and Spenser; of Homer, Virgil Ovid, and other admired masters. Moreover, he sought to improve himself hy translating freely from the andents, particularly from the Latin poets, those passages which struck his fancy. At the same time he sought to cultivate the critical instinct, and studied diligently the critical lit- erature of the time, especially the great French writers commended by his master, Dryden. The early efforts of the young writer met with much encouragement from some gentlemen of taste whom he came to know IIis career as an author may be said to date from the publication iu 1709 of his "Pastorals," which Jie wrote, as he was most anxious to impress upon his readers, when only sixteen years old. They are imitative, and highly affected and artificial. In sjnte of the fact that the boyish author had lived in the country, there was no breath of country air in the pages. They were mechan- ical reproductions of the ancients, and repeopled the glades of η indsor and the banks of Thames with all the dead rout of sylvan govho are extremely anxious to observe the proprieties in their manners, his besetting danger was to become stilted, stiff, lacking in spontaneous grace. Pope's first important work, the '' Essay on Criticism," was clearly indicative of his aims and his point of view both as poet and as critic. It was a statement of his literary creed; and it found instant acceptance by the cultivated people of the time because it formulated theirs with that happy ])recision and clear, epigrammatic force which they especially admired. Owing much to Boileau's "Art of Poetry," and epitomizing the best critical opinion of the epoch, it was not original in any way. It aimed to set forth ** What oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed." It made appeal to nature and to the past; to tradition and rule, to classic models and standards. First follow nature, counsels the poet: " First follow nature, and your judgment frame By her just standard, which is still the same." But, as if at once to confuse the issue, nature is identified with tradition: " Those rules, of old discovered, not devised, Are nature still, but nature methodized ; " aUf.rJe-Jfg.itt.Ut.-..:ί.ί»>«ίι..^ . ■»>.;■■■ --i - :... >....^...» ■ ,;,jtiai||]„• iiiiiamitiniiiniifiii , itmnimn XXXVlll INTRODUCTION INTRODUCTION XXXI X spite Its fierceness, its cruel spite, and its coarseness, it has a vigor and power whicli are not eqiiallud elsewhere in 1 ope s writings. It brought him into much trouble• for many of the persons attacked retaliated, and covered'him with abuse and ridicule as coarse and unscrupulous as his own. Whereas the ^'Dunciad " reflects Swift's influence upon Fope, in the works which followed, the "Moral Essays" (1731-1735), including the world-famous ''Essay on Man " the paramount influence is that of the philosopher Lord Bolingbroke. Bolingbroke was a discredited politi- cian, who, on his return from exile, devoted his energies to philosophy, and enjoyed the friendship and admiration of lope His ideas proved very attractive to Pope, who wished to gain a reputation as a great moralist and teacher and he set about giving expression to them in verse He was himself no thinker, no philosopher; at least he could not think connectedly and continuously. He thoui^ht in flashes; and his - Essay on Man " is not a sustained ar^u- ment, but rather a series of detached reflections and apho- risms. They are borrowed from many sources, and most of them had filtered down to him by way of Bolingbroke. Pope IS simply finding for them that condensed, lucid trenchant expression which might give them their highest value, i he sentences are clear-cut, and delicately polished to the utmost of literary power. Whether or no his theme IS one fit for poet's pen, what a lesson to the philosopher is the poem in propriety of epithet, in economy of words in ease and grace! The poet is indeed parsimonious to a fault sometimes, as in the elliptical lines: " Then say not man's imperfect, Ileav'n in fault ; Say rather, man's as perfect as he ought : His knowledge measurM to liis state and place ; His time a moment, and a point his space. If to be perfect in a certain sphere, What matter, soon or late, or here or there ? The blest to-day is as completely so. As who began a thousand years η «'■o " • ins '* But this almost miserly thrift of words was a fault on the right side, and may be pardoned. And then, how numerous are the quotable passages that are simply perfect in their kind! As one scans the text the eye is caught again and again by felicitous and picturesque lines: '* In Folly's cup still laughs the bubble, Joy," and others equally striking, which explain the hold this poem still retains upon the public. Its reasoning is often false and contradictory; it is wanting in the power and in- evitable grace of the higher poetry; it addresses itself to the intellect and the fancy rather than to the imaofinative reason ; and yet it charms and interests, and keeps its place in public favor. In the " Moral Essays" and in the '' Satires and Epis- tles " (1735-1738) Pope has brought his manner to its high- est efficiency. His touch is now the touch of the confident master-craftsman, who knows exactly what he is going to do, and the best way in which it may be done. Every stroke counts; is now fine and subtle, now bold and broad, as the end in view requires. And this is the outcome of that lifelong pursuit of correctness; of that infinite painstaking industry, that unremitting *'labor of the file." AVhat lover of work that in its kind is almost flawless, can reiiai-d it without admiration ? It may not be, it certainly is not, of the highest kind; it may fail, as it surely does, to lift and dilate the soul as does tlie work of the greatest artists and seers — Shakspere or Milton, Chaucer or Spenser, AVordsworth or Byron, Shelley or Tennyson; but in its own way it is unsurpassed. When Pope finished his last satire, in 1738, his health was rapidly giving way. During the six years that followed, he produced only another book of the " Dunciad." When at last the '' slow pursuer," who seemed to have been dog- ging his footsteps through a life of sickness, overtook him, he was found serene and cheerful. Although he had made SjflSef-'• ■ IT Xl INTRODUCTION SO many enemies, devoted friends were not wanting in Lis last days. They tended liim with affectionate care, and he became even jocnhir in their presence. '* Hero I am," he said, when the doctor had made an encouraging report upun his condition, '* here I am, dying of a hiimlred good symptoms." After receiving the hist sacraments of the Church to wliich he had remained loyal, he died resignedly and peacefully on May 30, 1744. The man Pope, when we know the details of his life and character, awakens very mixed feelings in us; feelings that waver between disgust and pity, contempt and re- spect. On the whole, we are not tempted to linger in his presence, unless we meet him in his workshop about his business. There we may watch the industrious, careful workman with the greatest profit. There the young apprentice in the craft of writing may \vell spend much time in studying the ways of a master. It may seem paradoxical to say that Pope's chief service as a poet was that he tauglit men to write good prose; and yet that expresses the truth. He will not help much the making of great poets; but he will help to form efficient writers, experts, tliat is, in the difficult art of managing words. The young practitioner who is striving after the propriety and precision which his text-books of rhetoric insist upon, cannot do better than study his Pope long and well. He may begin with the translation of Homer, and then pass on to the '-Rape of the Lock," the ^• Essay on Man," the *'Epistle to Arbuthnot." Thus he may learn, if he will, what it is to be correct without being tiresome; to be sen- sible without being dull and trite; to be fanciful and sug- gestive without being whimsical and extravagant. He may fail of brilliancy and wit in hie expression; but he may well have learned how to lend to the commonplace an air of novelty and interest, and to give to what thoughts he has, be they new or old, good or poor, the charms of happy conciseness, ease, and elegance. INTRODUCTION xli IV. Pope's Homer. There have been many noteworthy attempts to translate Homer into English verse, five of which have been made by poets of high rank, and may be said to be of perma- nent worth. These five are (1) that of the Elizabethan poet and dramatist, George Chapman, Shakspere's con- temporary (published, seven books, in 1598; the Ihad entire in 1610-11); (2) Pope's version, which, like Chap- man's, is in rhymed verse; (3) the blank verse rendering of AVilliam Cowper (1791); (4) the version of the Amer- ican poet, William Cnllen Bryant (1869), also in blank verse• and (δ) a rhymed verse rendering of the 'Odys- sey " by the living English poet, William Morris. Among these Pope's still holds an important place, and, perhaps, considered on its merits as a purely English poem, the foremost place. It differs from the others very greatly in style and form, as they too differ very greatly among them- selves. These wide differences are instructive, as showing, not only the varying modes of several literary epochs, but great divergences in apprehending the distinctive quali- ties of Homer's work. From the point of view of the best modern scholarship uot one of these translations is satisfactory; for while they give well enough the substance of Homer's story, they fail to reproduce his wonderful and fascinating man- ner Indeed, so wonderful and so unique is that manner that it cannot be reproduced, and Homer, as Mr. Andrew Lang insists, must be regarded as untranslatable. One version produces this good quality of the original, another that; but each will be lacking in some vital respect. *' Chapman," to quote Mr. Lang, '' makes Homer a fanci- ful, euphuistic, obscure, and garrulous Elizabethan, but Chapman has fire. Pope makes him a wit, spirited, occa- sionally noble, full of points and epigrams, and queer rococo conventionalisms. Cowper makes him slow, lum- xlii miRODUCTION beriiig, a Milfcon without the music. . . . Homer is untranslatable. None of us can bend the bow of Eurytus, and make the bow-string ' ring sweetly at t!ie touch, like the swallow's song.' The adventure is never to be achieved." Mr. Lang is doubtless right; but let us try to understand what has actually been achieved, especially in the case of Pope. Pope seems to have been led to undertake the transla- tion of Homer because he luid from his youth been a great lover of Homer's epics, and thought that he appre- ciated their merits; and because he perceived the inade- quacy of the former attempts to render them in English. The most famous of these had been Chapman's, which Pope criticises in the preface to his own ''Iliad." He censures Cliapman's ''loose and rambling paraphrase," his frequent interpolations, his strained interpretations, his involved expression; but, showing his just and line critical instinct, he praises Chapman for ''the daring, fiery spirit that animates his translation," here singling out the quality for Avhich Chapman's version is praised by Mr. Matthew Arnold in his famous essay, " On Translatinsr Homer." How does Pope himself mend matters? He l)rofesses great reverence for Homer's text, and announces that he will take no unwarranted liberties with it. But he does take what to-day are regarded as great liberties, and were regarded by the highest scholarship, even in his own time, as liberties. This is shown in the celebrated judgment of his contemporary, the great Greek scholar. Bentley: " A pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but you must not call it Homer." Pope probably followed Homer as well as he could; but his equipment for his task was very slight. He knew comparatively little Greek; and his classical scholar- ship, although he loved to parade it, was neither profound nor extensive. He was obliged to seek the assistance of scholars to help him through difficult passages, and he made the most liberal use of existing translations, English, Latiu, and French. We find in his work serious mistranslations, INTRODUCTION xliii \i ι and some unwarrantable omissions, expansions, and con- densations. While, then, he improves upon Chapman as regards fidelity to the original, we must not, as Bentley pat it, call his version Homer. Turning from the substance to the style, to what extent, we may ask, is the spirit of Homer preserved in his ren- dering ? According to Matthew Arnold, Homer has four main characteristics: *' he is rapid in his movement, he is plain in his words and style, he is simple in his ideas, and he is noble in his manner." Again Pope's preface shows that, as a critic, he did not fail to apprehend that some of these qualities were the main features of Homer's style. He praises Homer's ''unequalled fire and rapture," his rapidity, his flowing ease, and, above all, his "pure and noble simplicity." But it is one thing to praise these qualities; quite another to give proper effect to them in an English rendering. Pope, of course, could not escape from the influences and literary conventions of his age; and this age, although it might enlarge upon the noble simplicity of Homer, and so forth, was conspicuously deficient in that simplicity, and was incapable of giving expression to it. Pope shows this conclusively. He is continually spoiling the noble simplicity of Homer, contin- ually sophisticating it. When Homer says simply that Apollo "let an arrow fly; " Pope ornaments thus: "And hissing fly the feathered fates below" (i., 68), which is onomatopoetic and alliterative, but unfortunately quite un-Homeric, the periphrasis "feathered fates," especially so. Again, \vhen Homer makes Achilles declare in his rage that the Greeks shall call in vain upon him for aid "when multitudes fall dying before manslaying Hector," Pope must be more grandiose, and so he expands melodra- matically : *' When, flush'd with slaughter, Hector comes to spread The purpled shore with mountains of the dead." And— to give one more from the examples with which iLSUMfA xliv INTRODUCTION the first book abounds — Homer describes the withdrawal of Achilles in bitterness of heart to seek counsel of Thetis, his mother, in the following simple but telling manner: " Then Achilles wept anon, and sat him down apart, aloof from his comrades, on the beach of the gray sea, gazing across the boundless main ; he stretched forth his liands and prayed instantly to ids dear mother.'' ' Pope renders the passage thus: '' Not so his loss the fierce Achilles bore ; But sad retiring to the sounding shore, O'er the wild margin of the deep he hung, That kindred deep from which his mother sprung ; There, bath'd in tears of anger and disdain. Thus loud lamented to the stoi-iny main.'' Here the fourth line is an interpolation; the first also is virtually an addition. The third line, with its '' wild margin of the deep," for the simple and effective ''beach of the gray sea," — not to speak of '' he hung," for " he sat down," — is objectionable; and so, too, is the overdrawn fifth line that does duty for Homer's plain statement: '' Then Achilles wept; " while in the last line Homer's cpiiet effect, bis picture of the hero stretching forth his hands in prayer, is spoiled. These examples will serve to show whut kind of blem- ishes we meet w^ith in Pope; sins for the most part against the beautiful simplicity and directness of Homer. Here, once more, Pope's theory is better than his practice. He had pointed out in his preface that nothing had been more commonly mistaken bv the translators of Homer than " the just pitch of his style," some of them having *' swelled into fustian in a proud confidence of the sub- lime; others sunk into flatness in a cold and timorous notion of simplicity." But there is, he goes on to point ^ This and oilier prose renderings are taken from the unequalled version of Lang, Leaf, and Myers (Macmillan). INTRODUCTION I! xlv out, *'a graceful and dignified simplicity as well as a bold and sordid one." Of this simplicity Homer has, he asserts, the secret; and if we will but follow modestly in his foot- steps, he will teach us when to be plain, and when to be poetical and figurative. Pope, alas, does not follow his own counsel. His dread of dulness and his consciousness that his contemporaries will tolerate almost any short- coming rather than that, leads him astray; and he cannot resist the temptation and the native tendency to trick out Homer in a few rhetorical flounces and furbelows. It may be questioned whether Pope came near to an apprecia- tion of the easy, unstudied dignity, and the spontaneous, unbookish freshness of Homer's manner; but, in any case, he gives us a Homer who boasts some of the most approved graces of Pope's neo-classic, artificial age; a Homer who is, so to speak, bewigged and beruffled, and mounted on the high-heeled shoes of English fashion. His rough manners have been smoothed down to harmonize with the decorum of that punctilious age; his speech, with its somewhat annoying repetitions and recurrent epithets, has been made more sententious and epigrammatic, to suit the wits of the coffee-house. As to the form of Pope's verse, it has already been pointed out that one form, the ten-syllabled couplet, was made to do duty in all of Pope's important works, regard- less of differences in subject-matter and design. It was the favorite and characteristic verse-form of the age, and was the mould into Avhich everything was forced. Its adoption by Pope for his translation of Homer was a clear sign of his inability to catch the deeper art-spirit of Homer's Avork. The resort to rhyme not only imposes severe limitations upon the poet, but, as Matthew Arnold has pointed out, leads to a false pairing of lines which are distinct, and by intensifying antithesis, intensifies separa- tion. Moreover, the jigging see-saw of the rhyme contin- ually jars upon us. This perpetual, monotonous clicking of the couplet, how unlike the long sweep, the flowing if xlvi INTRODUCTION cadeuce of the Homeric hexameter! The flash and glitter of the rhyme, the obtrusive bahince and antithesis of the phrases, the unceasing hurry of the lines, as of a person who takes short, rapid steps— how unlike the equable, un- halting, yet dignified movement, the swinging stride, of the Homeric verse! And yet the translation, after every deduction has been made, is a monument of genius that fully holds its own Avith other versions that bring us nearer to Homer. The Homer presented by Pope may be an ariachronism, but, at any rate, he is an energetic and spirited Homer; a Homer that is very entertaining; a Homer that tells his story clearly and rapidly, in spite of the little embroideries wherewith it is adorned. Pope, as we have seen, had a keen appreciation of the fire of Homer's style; and his greatest success is in the translation of those passages which are most animated and colored by strong emotion. He is successful, for example, in his own (not Homer's) way in the spirited speeches and in his reproduction of the stir and movement of the battlefield and the combat; and it is per- haps because Homer's narrative is highly seasoned by him here and there, in a way that hits the average taste, that his version has proved so attractive to the general reader. Finally, by way of giving some idea of the differences in style between Pope's version and otliers before referred to, let ns compare a passage or two from some of them,— say from Pope's predecessor Chapnum, and from his suc- cessor Bryant. No book makes heavier demands upon the skill of tiie translator than the twenty-fourth, supreme in its beauty of pathos and tenderness; so our selection shall be made from that. We may take the passage that pre- sents the picture of Hector, beautiful in death. The old King Priam, noble in his grief, has asked Hermes to tell him liow the body of his dead son fares, and the god answers, as Chapman interprets: «« . , , But, though now twelve days have spent their heat On his cold body, neither worms with any taint have eat, INTRODUCTION xlvii Nor putrefaction perished it ; yet ever, when the morn Lifts her divine hght from the sea, unmercifully borne About Patroclus' sepulchre, it bears his friend's disdain, Bound to his chariot ; but no fits of further outrage reign In his distemper. You would muse to see how deep a dew Even steeps the body, all the blood washed off, no slcnd'rest show Of gore or quitture, but his wounds all closed, though many were Opened about him. Such a love the blest immortals bear. Even dead, to thy dear son, because his life showed love to them." How involved this is, and how far removed by its Eliza- bethan frills of fancifulness from the plainness of the original, may be appreciated if we take next Bryant's literal version : " Twelve mornings have beheld him lying there, Nor hath corruption touched him, nor the worms That make the slain their feast begun to feed. 'Tis true that, when the holy morning dawns, Achilles drags him fiercely round the tomb Of his dear friend ; yet that disfigures not The dead. Shouldst thou approach him, thou would'st see With marvelling eyes how fresh and dewy still The body lies, the blood all cleansed away, Unsoiled in every part, and all the wounds Closed up wherever made ; for many a spear Was thrust into his sides. Thus tenderly The blessed gods regard Ihy son, though dead, For dearly was he loved by them in life." The blank verse gives Bryant an advantage over Pope; and yet, as we shall see. Pope's will stand well a compari- son with the more modern version. Bryant's failing is a tendency to drop to the commonplace, and to become tame and spiritless. Pope, on the other liand, tends to infuse an artificial vitality into his lines. Like Chapman, whom he censures for it, he is very free in his rendering; but this time he has caught the spirit of his original better than is his wont: '• This the twelfth evening since he rested there Untouch'd by worms, untainted by the air. ahaiaggfeifit^Jfc«fa»a^avJM^!i«j^a*'>^^^^^ xlviii INTROD UCTION Still as Aurora's ruddy beam is spread, Round his friend's tomb Achilles drags the dead ; Yet undisfigur'd, or in limb or face, All fresh lie lies, with ev'ry living grace, Majestical in death ! No stains are found O'er all the corse, and elos'd his ev'ry wound; Though many a wound they gave. Some heav'nly care, Some hand divine, preserves him ever fair : Or all the host of heav'n, to whom he led A life so grateful, still regard him dead." Other instructive comparisons might be made; but this single one must suffice to show wherein Pope's real strength lies; in clearness of construction, in vigor and speed of movement, in the stimulating briskness of his general manner. Attention will be drawn in the notes to some of the peculiarities of Pope's style, and to many of the more important departures from the sense and manner of the original. SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHERS The teacher has primarily before him the responsible and difficult task of introducing to his students one of the great books of the world, one of the bibles of the race; and of so introducing it that it may yield lasting pleasure and profit, and infuse into life something of that ** fresh- ness of the early world " which keeps the old young. He must therefore, first of all, help his students to enjoy Homer's story and to wander with delight in the Homeric wTjrld. Then let him see to it that out of this enjoyment there grows a keen, broadening interest in the varied aspects of Homeric life and legend, in the characters and fortunes of the personages that are brought to view, and in all the circumstances of their lives in peace and in war. This is to assume that Homer and his works will form the centre of interest, and that the student will be led out from this centre to concern himself with Homer's interpreter. Pope. As first impressions count for so much, it will be well to make the initial jDresentation of the "Iliad" bold and strong. With an average class of high-school boys and girls, w^ho have not read Homer before, the best course will be to plunge at once into the tale of Troy; to give it com- plete in broad outline; and, in doing so, to introduce a few of the more moving passages from Pope, to be read effec- tively, or, better still, recited, by the teacher. Considera- ble importance should be attached to a good vocal render- ing of Homer; indeed the art of the old rhapsodists might, within certain limits, be revived. After this general introduction, this setting up of what the Herbartians would call helpful apperceptive centres of an interest that should be as many-sided as possible, the 1 SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHERS reading of the text may be begun, tlie teacher leading οίϊ, and taking his turn from time to time with the students. This first reading should be rapid— as rapid, that is, as is consistent with an intelligent following of the narrative. Tfow much the quick advance should be retarded by expla- nation and research, it must be left to the tact of the teacher to determine. The effect of the whole must not be marred by too much attention to details; the object being at this stage to help the student to gain a sympa- thetic, imaginative comprehension of the Homeric world and the Homeric spirit. The memorizing of selected pas- sages maybe begun; and to give dramatic effect to the speeches (in Book i. especially), they may be assigned to different students, as are the parts of a play. The student will be assisted in appreciating the spirit of Homer by being referred to manifestations of that spirit in modern literature with which he is familiar, especially in the works of ** the most Homeric of modern men," Sir Walter Scott. Some of the old ballads of heroic temper, and even the romances of Kingsley or Dumas, may be used for fruitful comparative work. In this connection the teacher may be helped by Jebb's remarks on the rela- tion of Homeric poetry to balhid poetry and to the poetry of Scott (''Introduction to Homer,'' pp. 12-23); and by sundry suggestive alhisions in Mr. Andrew Lang's essays on Scott's poems, Dumas, and the study of Homer, in his "Essays in Little." After the first stimulating reading of the text, the stu- dent ought to be ready to pursue with eager pleasure his investigation of details. The work of research will, of course, be divided among the membei-s of the class; and the written reports wiiich they bring in— all of which are to be read for the instruction of the whole class— should be supplemented by pictures, plans, diagrams, maps, etc., to illustrate the subject-matter, so that the student's con- tact with the ancient world may be as close and real as the aid of art can make it. Good classical dictionaries and ii^lllli, SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHERS li atlases, like Schreiber's, Seyfert's, and Smith's, should be drawn upon for illustrative materials, and so should vol- umes such as Schuchhardt's *' Schliemann's Excavations," translated by Miss Sellers (this and Schreiber and Seyfert are published by Macmillan), and Flaxman's chaste illus- trations of Homer (published separately in good form by Macmillan also). Where the course of study can be so arranged, there should be a close correlation of the school- work in literature Λvith that in history and drawing. If the more important parts of the work of illustrating words and passages from the text by drawings of armor, weap- ons, utensils, garments, buildings, etc., can be done under the drawing-teacher's supervision, so much the better. It will mean more to the student. The study of Homeric myth and legend may proceed along the lines suggested in Gayley's admirable ''Classic Myths in English Literature" (Ginn). By this method the student is brought to realize the extent to which Hel- lenic fable lives in English poetry. The teacher will find Miss Jane Harrison's *' Myths of the Odyssey " suggestive reading. In his endeavors to reconstruct the Homeric world, the student should be impressed with the fact that he is dealing at first hand with many of those data by means of which the great historians of antiquity have elaborated their accounts of these bygone times. Let him, in however modest a way, be an original investigator, and know for himself what the writing of reliable history means. He may be required to collate the scattered references to the polity, social life, domestic life, amusements, arts, religion, warfare, etc., of the Homeric Greeks; and on the basis of these write careful accounts of one or more of them. This work may be made to culminate in the illustrated term-essay, dealing with such topics as the Handicrafts, the Hospitality, the Religious Observances of the Homeric Greeks, the Position of Women among them, their Family Life^ and so forth. For supplementary reading, to aid in i-jSfe^Aa>3wiAkitgJ-a,?fc*,.>acl••^^ .i!ric«tM8e'.is.»:t>^iBjc»>*ί-ίί*• ilfc^J-1 liv SUGGESTIONS FOR TEACHERS Series; Hales's edition of the "Rape of the Lock," in ** Longer English Poems"; and the essays by De Quincey and Lowell. The history of the period may be studied at length in Lecky's ''England in the Eighteenth Centnry," vol. i., chap, iv., or more briefly in Green's " Short History of the English People" (the illustrated edition is best) ; while Thackeray's "Henry Esmond," and his chapters on the first two Georges in " The Four Georges," present the social life of the period in a graphic and interesting manner. CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE Iv < Η < ϋ -α ο h3 ο ο ϋ Κ) s: < ίζ; < Ν Ρ. Ο •< Η Η m Ν. Ο a: 02 .w 0» * as c a β ο i < I ο Β PQ c > Ρ ο s 00 V es S Cj »^ Ο ^■=: c ο Ο ^3 ρ 5 Co =3 c ^• ojTs ϋ s so 1? c ο δ Qj έ;'α8ΐ-? οΌ Oi c c Λ *•— ; «8 •- «- « a ^3 Β Β ο - φ*^ 'h eeiQ _: <^(-ί Ζ Ρ ο ^ ri no: fig «ο C cS es ο φ _ ο OL— , J ^ ο . 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I I ar ;?^ ft -w 'α — -Μ l• ϋ a erg oc a .2 1 oc C Ο ο ί^ g OJ R f-H Ο ?*l 00 -^ *J • ra ^uO ia r; ?; - 5 J^ • "S '^ i^ 'cS c-^i?; at: c^^ = * ^.2 i * S Μ δχ; -Ξ a -S S Si ι ■ 1 Jl; tX i) 1§W ^o ^•^ a a ' CO i5 ■* s i a|x4 ο ^ a 1^1 s WW §8 -2 (5.2i " a ο OQ a X3 Ο d ''ε as OQ OS C***» 4^ "^ -^ — 0) b » bo ■- fta fl 3 bC «as: 6• a ,a ■ι «a 1 X5 3 OS "E a ο fc< a < ft St χ: ο 1 ^ ■ii οί α CD a t5 ■d ^ 2 *1 :5 3 OQ H^ a ou ft a 03 § "So a ο υ •SE/2 g α; Ό (ι ei a Ό Β Ο Ο ο ft 2"«s « I £"1— ( 3 CD ^ ft 1- • r- -4-^ • I ^3.5 t- etc a< ο 03 3 «ε Jo x: c -^x: d I- α OS ^j -J ϋ ^Ui οβ ~ •^ . :a « . rt ο ■« -Sc =t ο ^ T3 .2 ο .„• ■e a t; 5 .< «8 «« I Iviii if! e: I η < ϋ »-* α c ο ο ■«1 CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE \ •c ο α ο •2 Χ a ^ ti /" w "^ ek_ _ *. — • ί•". -rf >«' ο .5 i:?=3'§'J Β* ?! , '3 »- «S Q 3 ^. ο ^i 03 C ^ si O— • gc 00-^ — .3 ϋ > I ?-!§ I gt^SCQ «i5 CO I» I- 90 Λ CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE lii Vi i" 9» ε 0) • Mm* h4 '3 a" > •Si s ϋ ύ C7 1— « 03 &■■ r- Ν c c ίϋ C α ο s > .s ρ η 2 ο > η 0) » ε 93 . <: Οι a PQ 5 α; •α . ο, «= a .2 ο 2 β* '•Ά ι ο C3 βϋ In ο-Γ- C ω ρ « Ο) Si SB ο ο 2: .02 2§ «So 1^ Ο) S S ? ϋ 5; ο ■> t;0 05 ^ ^ ο Ρ3 «3 Η 8 CO '3 a .ϋ^ β Ό fc Ε .ο § CD Ci α> α ο ο ^ α ΙΑ C Έ.^ φ ^ ϋ ί- -£ =» (§.§ «5 Ό ο .ί δ^ ^ Φ ι <βΓ5 e ν »- ^ •^N •^^ OQ «Ι- ο Ο > ^»' 13 Ο >» fl) *J γΙγ) OS ED m >> (3 T3' S O: •s s ο • ζ, « -Μ δ -^ ft » i δ β ο ο CwM C if es .Cm OD C • Ο -• fc- g i. 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S Uctum Pr. . , THE ILIAD* BOOK I. THE ARGUMENT. *: Homer is a pwt for all ages, all races, and all moods. To the Greeks the epics were not only the best of romances, the richest of poetry; not only their oldest documents aliout their own history,— they were also their Bible, their treasury of religious traditions and moral teaching. With the Bible and Shakespeare, the Homeric i)oems are the best training for life. There is no good quality that they lack: manliness, courage, reverence for old age and for the hospital)le hearth; justice, piety, pity, a brave attitude towards life and death, are all conspicuous in Homer. He has to write of battles; and he delights in the joy of battle, and in all the move- ment of war. Yet he delights not less, but more, in j>eace : in prosperous cities, hearths secure, in the tender beauty of children, in the love of wedded wives, in the frank nobility of maidens, in the beauty of earth and sky and sea and seaward murmuring river, in sun and snow, frost and mist and rain. — Andrew Lang. ' i I THE CONTENTION OF ACHILLES AND ΑΠΑΜΕΜΝΟΝ. In the war of Troy, the Greeks having sacked some of the neigh- bouring towns, and taken from thence two beautiful captives, Chry- sei's and Briseis, allotted the first to Agamemnon, and the last to Achilles. Chryses, the father of Chryseis, and priest of Apollo, comes to the Grecian camp to ransom her ; with which the iiction of the poem opens, in the tenth year of the siege. The priest being refused and insolently dismissed by Agamemnon, entreats for ven- geance from his god, who inflicts a pestilence on the Greeks. Achilles calls a council, and encourages Ohalcas to declare the cause of it, who attributes it to the refusal of Chryseis. The king being obliged to send back his captive, enters into a furious contest with Achilles, which Nestor pacifies ; however, as he had the absolute command of the army, he seizes on Briseis in revenge. Achilles in discontent withdraws himself and his forces from the rest of the Greeks ; and complaining to Thetis, she supplicates Jupiter to render them sensi- ble of the wrong done to her son, by giving victory to the Trojans. Jupiter granting her suit, incenses J uno, between whom the debate runs high, till they are reconciled by the address of Vulcan. The time of two-and-twenty days is taken up in this book ; nine during the plague, one in the council and quarrel of the Princes, and twelve for Jupiter's stay with the Ethiopians, at whose return Thetis prefers her petition. The scene lies in the Grecian camp, then changes to Chrysa, and lastly to Olympus. Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful spring Of woes iinimmber'd, heav'nly goddess, sing ! * Poem about Lion, or Troy. Cf. Pope's title. The Dunciad. 1-10. The epic opens with a brief prologue, in whicli the bard announces his theme, the disastrous wrath of Achilles as affecting 1 ΐΒϋ«ίΜίίΐί!ΐ•-*^•ί>""•—-Αί.:^•.-.•ίί^ί.Λ.!.ί..Α— 1--^.».~ — ..r...» 4 TEE ILIAD Thac rvrath which hiirlM to Pluto's gloomy reign Tpo soulsof mighty cliiefs untimely slain : AVhose limbs, .luo'iriod on the naked shore, nev'ouring'iiogs and nungry vultures tore : Since great Achilles and Atrides strove, Such was the sov'reign doom, and such the will of Jove ! noclare, Muse ! in what ill-fated hour Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power ? 10 Latona's son a dire contagion spread, And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead -/'^ the war against Troy; and invokes with religious solemnity the aid of the goddess, i. e., the Epic Muse. The office of bard or minstrel was a sacred one. He was no mere artist, but was supposed to be inspired by the gods, especially the Muses, daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne (Memory), who sang to the g(xls (seel., 774,775), aiul presided over all kinds of poetry. This form of invocation was followed by later epic poets. Cf. Vir- giFs ^neid. Even Milton in his Christian epic invokes, pagan-like, " the heavenly Muse; " and the old mythological phrasing persists iii the poetry of to-day. 3. Pluto. In Greek, Hades, the god of the under world; but the name was, later on, applied to the place, instead of to its ruler. 3. Reign, realm, kingdom, from Lat. regnum. 6. Vultures. Yo\)e wishes to be more accurate than Homer, who says, in a free, poetical way, " all winged fowls." 7. Atrides, son of Atreus, meaning Agamemnon, although the word would apply also to his brother Menelaus. The terminal " ides " is akin to the terminal in the English John-so/i, or to the Scottisli j!/ac or Irish 0*. These patronymics are often used; thus Pelides, son of Peleus, or Achilles; Tydides, son of Tydeus, or Diomedes. 7. Homer does, in fact, apply here to Atrides the distinguisliing epithet ''king of men," used again in lines 13, 78, etc.; but Pope very often drops these characteristically Homeric .epithets as tire- some. He tries to justify these omissjans in his Preface. 8. What is the nornuil metre of the i3oem ? What about this line ? 11. Latona's son, λψΑΙο. j. 12. A good example of Pope's mistaken efforts to heighten the effect by melodramatic exaggeration. "Mountains of the dead" (see also 1. 320) may be classed with innumerable poetic conventions I I I BOOK I 5 The king of men his rev'rend priest defied, And for the king's offence the people died. For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain His captive daughter from the victor's chain. Suppliant the venerable father stands ; Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands : By these he begs; and, lowly bending down. Extends tlie sceptre and the laurel crown. 20 He sued to all, but chief iniplor'd for grace The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race : '' Ye kings and warriors ! may your vows be crown'd. And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground ; May Jove restore you, when your toils are o'er, Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. But oh ! relieve a wretched parent's pain. And give Chrysei's to these arms again ; which ornament the poetry of Pope's time. Homer says, "the people began to perish." 15. Is this paragraphing good ? 16. We are reminded of the French phrase cherchez la femme when we reiiect upon the fatal parts which beautiful women play in the legend of Troy. Lovely Helen had caused the war; Chryseis causes the breach between Achilles and Agamemnon. 17. How should this line be accented ? 18. Awful ensigns grace. Seemingly inconsistent: but awful means awe-inspiring; and ensigns, not flags, but insignia, badges of office. 20. As to "the sceptre and the laurel crown," Pope is wrong. Chryses bore, says Homer, " the fillet of Apollo, the Far-darter, upon a golden staff." This fillet, or chaplet, was a band or strip of wool which the priest wore round his head as a sign of his office. He now carries it wrapped around his staff, to signify that he is a suppliant. 21. Chief. What is the syntax ? Can you give other instances ? 22. Brother.kings. See note on line 7 :' Atrides. 23-30. Pope is very free in his rendering of this speech ; e.g., by warriors ..ij " he loosely translates the words which mean " well- greaved Achapans." one of Homer's familiar epithets. As to this and other names for the Greeks, see Introduction, p. xxiii. As to the greave, see Introduction, p. xxvi. 6 TEE ILIAD 9J 30 If mercy fail, yet let my presents move. And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove. The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare. The priest to reverence and release the fair. Not so Atrides : he, with kingly pride, Repuls'd the sacred sire, and thus replied : '' Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains, Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detains ; Hence, with thy laurel crown and golden rod, Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy god. Mine is thy daughter, priest, and shall remain ; And prayers, and tears, and bribes, shall plead in vain ; 40 Till time shall rifle every youthful grace. And age dismiss her from my cold embrace ; In daily labours of the loom employed. Or doom'd to deck the bed she once enjoy'd. Hence then ! to Argos shall the maid retire. Far from her native soil and weeping sire/' The trembling priest along the shore return'd. And in the anguisli of a father mourn'd. Disconsolate, not daring to complain, Silent he wander'd by the sounding main : Till, safe at distance, to his god he prays. The god who darts around the world his rays : 50 30. What is the syntax of dread f 31. Asseyit, consent, wilhngness. 32. A very Popean hne us to both form and diction. The fair was another poetic convention of the perio. — λ.^^ ..,■■.. 7 f 12 THE ILIAD i At thy demand shall I restore the maid ? First let the just equivalent be paid ; Such as a king might ask ; and let it be A treasure worthy her and worthy me. Or grant me this, or with a monarch's claim This hand shall seize some other captive dame. The mighty Ajax shall his prize resign, Ulysses' spoils, or ev'n thy own, be mine. The man who suffers, loudly may complain ; And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain. But this when time requires— it now remains We launch a bark to plough the wat'ry plains, And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa's shores, With chosen pilots and with lab'ring oars. Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend, And some deputed prince the charge attend ; This Greta's king or Ajax shall fulfiU- Or wise Ulysses see performed our will ; Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain, Achilles' self conduct her o'er the main ; Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage, The god propitiate and the pest assuage." At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied : " tyrant, arm'd with insolence and pride ! Inglorious slave to int'rest, ever join'd With fraud, unworthy of a royal mind ! What generous Greek, obedient to thy word. Shall form an ambush or shall lift the sword ? 180 11)0 or. See 175. The two or's were commonly used for either . . also vi., 557 ; xxii., 311, 312. 177. AJaXy the bravest warrior after Achilles, whose cousin he was. He was of great size and strength, and became the " bulwark of the Achaeans " after Achilles' retirement. 187. Cretans king, Idomeneus, one of the bravest and oldest of the Greek leaders. I 194. Pope is again very animated in this outbreak of invective. \fee and his contemporarios were well schooled in this manner. yy 210 BOOK I What cause have I to war at thy decree ? The distant Trojans never injur'd me : To Phthia's realms no hostile troops they led • Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed ; Far hence remov'd, the hoarse-resounding main And walls of rocks secure my native reign. Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace, liich in her fruits and in her martial race. Hither we sail'd, a voluntary throng, Τ avenge a private, not a public wrong : AVhat else to Troy th' assembl'd nations draws. But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause ? Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve, Disgrac'd and injur'd by the man we serve ? And dar'st thou threat to snatch my prize away. Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day ; A prize as small, tyrant ! matclied with thine. As thy own actions if compared to mine ! Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey; Though mine the sweat and danger of the day. Some trivial present to my ships I bear, Or barren praises pay the wounds of war. But know, proud monarch, I'm thy slave no more ; My fleet shall waft me to Thessalia's shore. Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain, IVhat spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides gain ? ^ ^ To this the king : *' Fly, mighty warrior, flv I Thy aid we need not and thy threats defy. 201 Phihia. Chief city of Tliessaly, where lived Peleus, Achilles and the ^lyrmidons whom Achilles ruled and led against Troy -03. The horse is especially associated with Thessaly, and its wild scenery of woodlands and hills. 203. Achilles' thoughts revert, with a touch of longing, to his native glens. 210. What is the syntax of ungrateful? 217, 218. The un-IIomeric antithesis again. Many more may be 13 200 220 « ashte^• ^•■- -^'M^in^^-.i^i^jijijjij^ 14 THE ILTAD BOOK I 15 There want not chiefs in such a cause to fight, And Jove himself shall guard a monarch's right. Of all the kings (the gods' distinguished care) To pow'r superior none such hatred bear : 230 Strife and debate thy restless soul employ. And wars and horrors are thy savage joy. If thou hast strength, 'twas Ileav'n that strength be- stow'd. For know, vain man ! thy valour is from God. liaste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away, Kule thy own realms with arbitrary sway : I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate Thy short-liv'd friendship and thy groundless hate. Go, threat thy earth-born Myrmidons ; but here 'Tis mine to threaten, prince, and thine to fear. 240 Know, if the god the beauteous dame demand, My bark shall waft her to her native land ; But then prepare, imperious prince ! prepare. Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair : Ev'n in thy tent I'll seize the blooming prize. Thy lov'd Brise'is with the radiant eyes. Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the hour Thou stood'st a rival of imperial pow'r ; And hence to all our host it shall be known That kings are subject to the gods alone." 250 Achilles lieard, with grief and rage oppress'd ; His heart swell'd high and laboured in his breast. Distracting thoughts by turns his bosom rul'd, Now fir'd by wrath, and now by reason cooFd : 228, 229. These lines, taken in connection with 250, 368, 369, bring'out the Homeric idea of the divine calhng and power of kini^s, as being the delegates of the divine king, Jove. The kings were generally regarded as descended from a god or demi-god, and ruled by both hereditary and divine right. This helps to explain the loftv attitude of Agamemnon. ^^ 239. Threat. The prose has, ** lord it among thy Myrmidons. 246. Homer speaks of Brisels ** of the fair cheeks." That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword, Force through the Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord ; This whispers soft, his vengeance to control. And calm the rising tempest of his soul. Just as in anguish of suspense he stay'd, While half unsheath'd appeared the glittVing blade, 260 Minerva swift descended from above. Sent by the sister and the wife of Jove (For both the princes claim'd her equal care) ; Behind she stood, and by the golden hair Achilles seiz'd ; to him alone confessed, A sable cloud conceai'd her from the rest. He sees, and sudden to the goddess cries. Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes : ** Descends Minerva in her guardian care, A heav'nly witness of the wrongs I bear 270 From Atreus' son ? Then let those eyes that view The daring crime, behold the vengeance too/' '* Forbear ! " (the progeny of Jove replies) *' To calm thy fury I forsake the skies : Let great Achilles, to the gods resigned. To reason yield the empire o'er his mind. By awful Juno this command is giv'n ; The king and you are both the care of heav'n. The force of keen reproaches let him feel. But sheath, obedient, thy revenging steel. 280 255, 257. What is the force of the demonstratives that and this ? 261. 3Jinerva (Greek, Athene). The most interesting of the god- desses, and the most spiritualized. "She is a true impersonation of the logos or reason " (Gladstone, see Primer, G8-72). Here she appeals to the rational side of Achilles' nature against the passion- ate. She is devoted to the Greeks, and is the personal protectress of Achilles in the Iliad, as she is of Ulysses in the Odyssey. 265. Confessed, revealed, acknowledged herself. The word is used in different senses. Cf. i., 528; vi., 23G, xxii., 14. 266. The sable cloud is Pope's handiwork. 278. Juno, like her lord Jupiter, is not fiercely partisan. She works quietly for the Greeks. aiilg'.»j.jafmfj»j• THE ILIAD BOOK I 17 ?i i9 290 For I pronounce (and trust a beav'nly pow'rj Thy injur'd honour lias its fated hour, When the proud monarch shall thy arms implore. And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store. Then let revenge no longer bear the sway, Command thy passions, and the gods obey. To her Pel ides : '* With regardful ear, ^Tis just, goddess ! I thy dictates hear. Hard as it is, my vengeance I suppress : Those who revere the gods, the gods will bless.' He said, observant of the blue-ey'd maid ; Then in the sheath return'd the shining blade. The goddess swift to high Olympus flies. And joins the sacred senate of the skies. Nor yet the rageliis boiling breast forsook, Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke : " monster ! mix'd of insolence and fear, Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer ! When wert thou known in ambush'd figlits to dare. Or nobly face the horrid fxQiit of war ? ^Tis ours the chance of fighting fields to try ; Thine to look on and bid the valiant die. So much "'tis safer through the camp to go. And rob a subject, than despoil a foe. Scourge of thy people, violent and base ! Sent in Jove^s anger oa a slavish race. 281, 284. Pope makes the goddess too commtinicativo. Slie simply promises "goodly gifts in threefold measure.'* 294. Why is the sacred senate objectionable ? Cf. shining spiod in 090. 298. Pope does well enough here with Homer's plain speaking, although he so often tries to make Homer's coarseness respectable. It is well-known how, when Ajax is calle^l an ass, Pope takes refuge in the labored periphrasis : "The slow beast with heavy strength endued." 299. The ambmKd fight was the test of the warrior. The bravest were selected for it. 300. Horrid, in the Latin sense of dreadful; occasionally used in other senses. (7/. vi, 830. 300 Who, lost to sense of generous freedom past. Are taniM to wrongs, or this had been thy last. Now by this sacred sceptre hear me swear. Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear, AVhich, sever'd from the trunk (as I from thee) Ou the bare mountains left its parent tree ; This sceptre, form'd by temper'd steel to prove An ensign of the delegates of Jove, From Λνΐιοηι the pow'r of laws and justice springs (Tremendous oath ! inviolate to kings) : By this 1 swear, Avhen bleeding Greece again Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain. When, flush'd with slaughter. Hector comes to spread The purpled shore with mountains of the dead. Then shalt thou mourn th' affront thy madness gavo, Forc'd to deplore, when impotent to save : Then rage in bitterness of soul, to know This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe.'^ He spoke ; and furious hurFd against the ground His sceptre starr'd with golden studs around ; Then sternly silent sat. With like disdain, '^^^^ raging king return'd his frowns again. To calm their passion with the words of age. Slow from liis seat arose the Pylian sage. Experienced Nestor, in persuasion skill'd ; Words sweet as honey from his lips distill'd : 310 320 330 309. Sacred sceptre, one passed by the heralds to the recognized speaker in the Assembly, as a sign* that he "held the floor." He returned it Λvhen his speech was done. 313. Temper' d steel, axe, 314. 315. Literally, " those who by Zeus' command watch over the traditions." Not " laws," for there were none ; Homer has no such word. The king is delegated by Zeus to uphold the "dooms" or I'udgments, sacred customs, or judicial precedents on which the rights of his people rested. See Introduction, p. xxv., "Themis." 331. Nestor, " clear- voiced orator of the Pylians." Pylos was in the Peloponnesus. fi ί 18 ΤΙΤΕ ILIAD t. Two generations now had passVl away. Wise by his rules and happy by his sway ; Two ages o'er liis native realm he reign'd. And now th' example of the third remain'd. All view^'d with awe the venerable man. Who thus with mild benevolence beoran : '* What shame, what woe is this to Greece ! what joy To Troy's proud monarch and the friends of Troy ! 3:40 That adverse gods commit to stern debate The best, the bravest of the Grecian state. Young as ye are, this youthful heat restrain, ϊίοΓ think your Nestor's years and wisdom vain. A godlike race of heroes once I knew. Such as no more these aged eyes shall view ! Lives there a chief to match Pirithous' fame, Dryas the bold, or Ceneus' deathless name ; Theseus, endued with more than mortal might, Or Polyphemus, like the gods in fight ? 350 With these of old to toils of battle bred. In early youth my hardy days I led, Fir'd with the thirst which virtuous envy breeds. And smit with love of honourable deeds. Strongest of men, they pierc'd the mountain boar, Eang'd the wild deserts red with monsters' gore, And from their hills the shaggy Centaurs tore. Yet these with soft persuasive arts I sway'd ; When Nestor spoke, they listen'd and obey'd. If in my youth, ev'n these esteem'd me wise, 360 Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise. 347-357. Pirithous, ruler of the Lapitha», a mythical people of Thessaly. The passage relates to the legendary conflict of the Lapitha3 and the Centaurs, who claimed a right in the kingdom of Pirithous, their half-brother. The Centaurs of Tlomer are simply a wild, savage people, not the symbolical, semi-equine creatures of later fable. Dryas, Ceneus, and Polyphemus were LapithiP. The- seus, the legendary hero of Athens, was the friend of Pirithous, and helped him against the Cenlauis (Gayley, 267). Polyphemus should not. be confused with the famous Cyclops. BOOK I 19 Atrides, seize not on the beauteous slave ; That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave : Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride ; Let kings be just, and sovereign pow'r preside. Thee the first honours of the war adorn. Like gods in strength and of a goddess born ; Ilim awful majesty exalts above The pow'rs of earth and sceptred sons of Jove. Let both unite with well-consenting mind, 370 So shall authority with strength be join'd. Leave me, king ! to calm Achilles' rage ; Kule thou thyself, as more advanc'd in age. Forbid it, gods ! Achilles should be lost, The pride of Greece and bulwark of our host." This said, he ceas'd. The king of men replies : ** Thy years are awful and thy words are wise. But that imperious, that unconquer'd soul, No laws can limit, no respect control : Before his pride must his superiors fall, 380 His word the law, and he the lord of all ? Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself obey ? AVhat king can bear a rival in his sway ? Grant that the gods his matchless force have giv'n ; Has foul reproach a privilege from heav'n ?" Here on the monarch's speech Achilles broke. And furious, thus, and interrupting, spoke : '' Tyrant, I well deserv'd thy galling chain. To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain. Should I submit to each unjust decree : 390 Command thy vassals, but command not me. Seize on Brisei's, whom the Grecians doom'd My prize of war, yet tamely see resum'd ; And seize secure ; no more Achilles draws His conqu'ring sword in any woman's cause. 371. Joined. Pronounced in Pope's time *'jined,"a pronuncia- tion that still is heard hero and there. Cf. vi., ;>29. 20 THE ILIAD The gods coniniuiid me to forgive the past ; l^iit let this first invasion be tiie last : For know, thy blood, when next thou dar'st invade, Shall stream in vengeance on mv reekins: blade/' At this they ceas'd ; the stern debate expir'd : 400 The chiefs in sullen majesty retir'd. Afhilles with Patroclus took his way, A\ here near liis tents his hollow vessels lay. Meantime Atrides launched with num'rous oars A well-rigg'd ship for Chrysa's sacred shores : High on the deck was fair Chrysei's placed, And sage ITlysses with the conduct grac'd : Safe in her sides the hecatomb thev stow'd. Then, swiftly sailing, cut the Ii(j | uid road .^^ The host to expiate next the king prepares, 410 With pure lustrations and with solemn pray'rs. Wash'd by the briny wave, the pious train Are cleans'd ; and cast th' ablutions in the main. Along the shores whole hecatombs were laid. And bulls and goats to Pha^lTus' altars paid. The sable fumes in curling spires arise, And waft their grateful odours to the skies. The army thus in sacred rites engagM, Atrides still with deep resentment rag'd. To wait his will two sacred heralds stood, 4:^0 Talthybius and Eurybates the good. "'Haste to the fierce Achilles' tent" (he cries); *' Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize : 403. The frieiidslu'p of Aeliilles aiul Patfoclus is one of tlie splen- did friendsliips of lilerature. Do you know of any others to be com- pared with it ? Cf. note on xxiv., 740. 407. Explain conduct graced. 410. llow accent? 410-41;; l'.{>e embroiders again. The sea was regarded by the Greeks as a great ceremonial purifier. Probably the voyagers had during the pestilence abstained from ablution, and had cast dust on their heads in sign of mourning (Leaf). BOOK I 21 Submit he must ; or, if they Λνϋΐ not part, Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart." Th' unwilling heralds act their lord's commands ; Pensive they walk along the barren sands : Arriv'd, the hero in his tent they find. With gloomy aspect, on his arm reclin'd. At awful distance long they silent stand, 430 Loth to advance or speak their hard command ; Decent confusion ! This the godlike man Perceiv'd, and thus with accent mild began : **^ With leave and honour enter our abodes. Ye sacred ministers of men and gods I 1 know your message ; by constraint you came ; ^'ot you, but your imperious lord, I blame. Patroclus, haste, the fair Briseis bring ; Conduct my captive to the haughty king. But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow, 440 AVitness to gods above and men below I But first and loudest to your prince declare. That lawless tyrant whose commands you bear ; Unmov'd as death Achilles shall remain. Though prostrate Greece should bleed at ev'ry vein : The raging chief in frantic passion lost, Blind to himself and useless to his host, Unskiird to judge the future by the past, In blood and slaughter shall repent at last." 427. How many Homeric touches we miss in Pope ! The prose version reads, "Unwillingly they went along the beach of the un- vintaged sea." Homer has other suggestive epithets for the sea. 430. Awful. That is, indicative of awe. Tlie suflix "-ful" is continually used in this primitive way by Pope. 432. Decent, becoming, comely; as in Milton's " Over thy decent shoulders drawn," 11 Penseroso, 36; or Goldsmith's "The decent church that topt the neighboring hill," Deserted Village, 12. 434. Note tiie change of tone here. What significance has it ? 435. The heralds in Homer's lime, as later, were greatly respected, and their persons liehl inviolable. 445. Forcibly put, but it is not Homer. l«lj.*'fytltlrfliij!if>''°'..frf>rfMaJarifj last Book. BOOK I 23 If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies. Obscures my glories, and resumes my prize." Far in the deep recesses of the main, AVhere aged Ocean holds his wat'ry reign, The goddess-motlier heard. The waves divide ; 470 And like a mist she rose above the tide ; Beheld him mourning on the naked shores. And thus the sorrows of his soul explores : '' AVhy grieves my son ? Thy anguish let me share ; lie veal the cause, and trust a parent's care." He, deeply sighing, said : '' To tell my woe. Is but to mention what too well 3^ou know. From Thebe, sacred to Apollo's name (Eetion's realm), our conquering army came. With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils, 480 Whose Just division crown'd the soldier's toils ; But bright Chryseis, heav'nly prize ! was led By vote selected to the gen'ral's bed. The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gain His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain ; The fleet he reach'd, and, lowly bending down. Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown, Entreating all ; but chief implor'd for grace The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race. The gen'rous Greeks their joint consent declar^/f 490 The priest to rev'rence and release the fair^ Not so Atrides : he, with wonted pride, The sire insulted, and his gifts denied : Th' insulted sire (his god's peculiar care) To Fha3bus pray'd, and Plujobus heard the pray'r. 469. Ocean, Nereus (Gayley, 85). 478. Thebe is in the Troad. Eetion, Andromache's father, killed by Achilles. See vi., 525. 484. Here some of the early lines are reproduced, although Pope varies his version of them somewhat. The whole passage is an unnecessary repetition, but such repetitions are common in Homer. 494. In what sense is peculiar used ? ^^^lu^S^^l^^^s^aes^i^a^M 24 THE ILIAD 25 * A dreadful plague ensues ; th' avenging darts Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts. A prophet then, inspirM by lieav'n, arose. And points the crime, and tlience derives the woes : Myself the first th' assembled chiefs incline 500 T' avert the vengeance of the pow'r divine ; Then, rising in his wrath, the monarch storrn'd ; Incensed he tlireaten'd, and his threats perform'd. The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent, AVith otfer'd gifts to make the god relent ; But now he seized Brisei's' heav'nly charms, And of my valour's prize defrauds my arms. Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train ; And service, faith, and justice plead in vain. But, goddess ! thou thy suppliant son attend, 510 To high Olympus' shining court ascend, Frge all the ties to former service ow'd, And sue for vengeance to the thund'ring god. Oft hast thou triumphed in the glorious boast That thou stood'st forth, of all th' ethereal host, AVhen bold rebellion shook the realms above, . Th' undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove. When the bright partner of his awful reign, The warlike maid, and monarcli of the main. The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driv'n, 520 Durst threat with chains th' omnipotence of heav'n. Then caird by thee, the monster Titan came (Whom gods Briareus, men ^geon name) ; Through wond'ring skies enormous stalk'd along, Kot he that shakes the solid earth so strong : 508. Be sure that yon understaiicl this hnc. 515. "The stranj^e legend," says Leaf, "of the binding of Zeus is not known from other sources, nor is it again mentioned in Homer, though there are numerous nlhisions to battles and quarrels among the gods, and to the previous dynasty of the Titans, who are now banished to Tartaros." 519. Minerva and Xeptune are referred to. 525. Neptune. 530 540 BOOK I With giant-pride at Jove's high throne he stands. And brandish'd round him all his hundred hands. Til' affrighted gods confess'd their awful lord, They dropp'd the fetters, trembled, and ador'd. This, goddess, tliis to his rememb'rancc call, Embrace his knees, at his tribunal fall ; Conjure him far to drive tlie Grecian train. To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main. To heap the shores with copious death, and bring The Greeks to know the curse of sucli a king. Let Agameiunon lift his haughty head O'er all his wide dominion of the dead. And mourn in blood that e'er he durst disgrace The boldest warrior of the Grecian race." ""' Unhappy son I " (fair Thetis thus replies. While tears celestial trickle from her eves) *'' Why have I borne thee with a mother's throes. To fates averse, and nurs'd for future woes ? So short a space the light of heav'n to view ! 8o short a space ! and iill'd with sorrow too ! Oh might a parent's careful wish prevail, Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail, And thou, from camps remote, the danger shun. Which now, alas I too nearly threats my son : Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I'll go To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy snow. Meantime, secure within thy ships, from far Behold the field, nor mingle in the war. 527. " Nor do we find elsewhere in Tlomer any such monstrous conception as that of a being Λvith a hundred arms " (Leaf). 5:}1. Embrace his knees. Tlie sign of the sui)pliant, who also touched the chin. Leaf suggests an origin in tlie action of "the wounded warrior who with tlie left arm clasps the knee of his victor to hamper his movement, and with the right hand turns aside his face so that he cannot aim the fatal blow until he has heard the appeal for mercy."' 5.-)l. Here the poet r"'\ills the actual mountain of Tiiessaly. 550 I ύί..£> ■tiJ-a•»•- »iiB j» .. a aaii ^ 26 TJIE ILIAD 27 The sire of gods and all tli' ethereal train On the warm limits of the farthest main, Kow mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace Tlie feasts of Ethiopia's blameless race : Twelve days the powers indulge the genial rite, Eeturning with the twelfth revolving light. Tlien will I mount the brazen dome, and move 560 The high tribunal of immortal Jove/' The goddess spoke : the rolling waves unclose ; Then down the deep she plung'd, from wlience she rose. And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast. In wild resentment for the fair he lost. In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses rode ; Beneath the deck the destin'd victims stowM ; The sails they furl'd, they lash'd the mast aside. And dropped their anchors, and the pinnace tied. Next on the shore their hecatomb they land, 570 Chrysei's last descending on the strand, 555. The great stream that forms the rim of the Earth. See ma[) in Gayley, 313 ; Ghidstone's Primer, 54-57. 557. The blameless yEtliiopians, with whom the gods loved to feast, lived on the outskirts of the world (see map in Gayley). 565. This misrepresents Achilles, who has otiier and softer feel- ings than those of resentment. Jlomer says that he was " vexed in spirit, for the fair-girdled woman's sake, wiiom they luid taken per- force desjute his will." 566. The passage that follows lias often been rejected as a late addition, because, among other things, about half the Hues are found in other parts of the Homeric poems, liut Mr. Lang regards the repetitions as so many epic formuhe, such as occur in sotne of the old ballads; and Mr. Leaf says that they are '* merely foi-mal lines, such as the genius of epic poetry permits to be freely re[)eated in describing similar scenes." "In any case," he adds, "the inter- polation of the episode is ingeniously effected in order to bridge over the pause in the story caused by Achilles' retirement to his hut." This is an important u\sthetic consideration. 568. A i)lan of the Homeric ship is given in Autenrieth's Ho- merie Didioimri/, plate iv. of Ai)pendix. Anchors, stones for mooring. 580 BOOK I Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main, Ulysses led to Pha3bus' sacred fane ; Where at his solemn altar, as the maid He gave to Chryses, thns the hero said : " Hail, reverend priest ! to Phrebus' awful dome A suppliant I from great Atrides come : Unransom'd here receive the spotless fair ; Accept the hecatomb thg Greeks prepare ; And may thy god, who scatters darts aronnd, Aton'd by sacrifice, desist to wound." At this the sire embrac'd the maid again. So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain. Then near the altar of the darting king, Dispos'd in rank their hecatomb they bring : AVith water purify their hands, and take The sacred otf'ring of the salted cake ; AVhile thus with arms devoutlv rais'd in air And solemn voice, the priest directs his prayV : '•' God of the silver bow, thy ear incline, Whose pow'r encircles Cilia the divine ; Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys. And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguished rays ! If, fir'd to vengeance at thy priest's request. Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest ; 576. Dome, used in the Latin sense of house or building generally, or temple. See again vi., 310. Cf. Goldsmith, Traveller, 159. 581. Aton'd. See note on i., 89. 586, 587, 600-613. After washing the hands, the sacrificer took whole barley grains, roasted and mixed with salt, and sprinkled them between the horns of the victim, whose forelock was cut off and burned. After this preliminary ritual, the sacrificer, raising the animal's head (or, if the sacrifice was offered to the infernal gods, bend- ing it down), slew it by cutting its throat, and flayed it. The thighs were then cut out, and covered with a double fold of fat, and over them slices of meat from other parts were laid. The fire was then set ablaze to burn the thighs, and libations of wine were poured upon them as the portion of the gods, wlio took deliglit in the savory fumes. Then the rest of the meat was sliced, roasted, and eaten by the sacrificers. 590 \ gu^^f^^l^g,^^^|^j^uijy^aa^£^^j^igaa0^lgij^^^kiil^£^ .-■^. .. .. ..—..■ - »i-,.^.-.>.MV«-.ag 28 THE ILIAD BOOK I 29 Once more attend I avert the wasteful woe. And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow." So Chrjses pray'd : Apollo heard his pray'r ; And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare ; Between their liorns the salted barley threw, 600 And with their heads to heav'n the victims slew : The limbs they sever from tk' inclosing liide ; The thighs, selected to the gods/»divide : On these, in donble cauls involv'd with art, The choicest morsels lay from ev'ry part. The priest himself before his altar stands, And burns tlie otFring with his holy hands. Pours the black wine, and sees the flames aspire ; The youths with instruments surround the fire. The thighs thus sacrificed and entrails dress'd, 610 Th'' assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest : Then spread the tables, the repast prepare. Each takes his seat, and each receives his share. When now the rage of hunger was repress'd. With pure libations they conclude the feast ; The youths witli wine the copious goblets crown'd. And, pleas'd, dispense the flowing bowls around. With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends, The paaans lengthen'd till the sun descends : The Greeks, restored, the grateful notes prolong : 620 Apollo listens, and approves the song. 'Twas niglit ; the chiefs beside their vessel lie. Till rosy morn had purpled o'er the sky : Tlien launch, and lioise the mast ; indulgent gales. Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails ; 60S. Black. In its early meaning of eaf, 'Ms typical of the spirit in which Homer treats the deities of Olympus, It is, to say the least, not reverent, and far removed from any conception of primitive i)iety. It is, indeeei, one among many signs that the civilization of tlie heroic age was old and not young — a civilization Avhicii was out- growing the simple faith of its ancestors." See Introduction, p. xiv. 741. He was supjKJiied to have fashioueil the celestial palaces (see i., 779). BOOK I m '* The wretched quarrels of the mortal state Are far unworthy, gods ! of your debate : Let men their days in senseless strife employ ; We, in eternal peace and constant joy. Thou, goddess-mother, witii our sire comply. Nor break the sacred union of the sky : Lest, rous'd to rage, he shake the blest abodes. Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the gods. If you submit, the Thund'rer stands appeas'd ; 750 The gracious pow'r is willing to be pleas'd." Thus Vulcan spoke ; and, rising with a bound, The double bowl with sparkling nectar crown'd. Which held to Juno in a cheerful way, '•' Goddess " (he cried), '' be patient and obey. Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend, I can but grieve, unable to defend. What god so daring in your aid to move, Or lift his hand against the force of Jove ? Once in your cause I felt his matchless might, 760 Hurrd headlong downward from th' ethereal height ; Toss'd all the day in rapid circles round ; Nor, till the sun descended, touch'd the ground : Breathless I fell, in giddy motion lost; The Sinthians rais'd me on the Lemnian coast.'* He said, and to her hands the goblet heav'd, Which, with a smile, the white-arm'd queen received. Then to the rest he fill'd ; and, in his turn, Eacli to his lips applied the iiectar'd urn. Vulcan with awkward grace his office plies, 770 And unextinguished laughter shakes the skies. Thus the blest gods the genial day prolong In feasts ambrosial and celestial song. 753. Double howl, having a cup at both ends. 753. Nectar, the drink of the gods; their food was ambrosia (see 1. 773). 760-765. Milton had these lines in mind in Par. Lost, i., 738. 771. Because the lame god hobbled with such comic gracelessness. η 34 THE ILIAD ARGUMENTS 35 4 Apollo tiin'tl the lyre ; the muses round With voice alteniiite aid the silver sound. Meantime the radiant sun, to mortal sisrht Descending swift, roll'd down the rapid light. Then to their starry domes the gods depart, The si lining monuments of Vulcan's art : Jove on his couch reclin'd his awful head, 780 And Juno slumber'd on the golden bed, 775. Alternate, each singing in turn, as the rliapsodists did when reciting epics. Mr. Leaf closes his notes on this book with the following valuable comments : •*it is injpossiblo to leave this splendid book without noticing the supreme art with which all the leading characters on both the stages of the coming story have been introduced to us; drawn in strong strokes, where not a touch is lost, and standing before us at once as finished types for all time. On earth we already know the contrast between the surly resentment of Agamemnon and the flaming but placable passion of Achilles, and we have had a glimpse of the mild wisdom of Nestor and the devoted friendship of Patroklos. h\ heaven the three chief actors, Zeus, Hera, and Athene, already pre- sent themselves as the strong but overweighted husband, the jealous and domineering wife, and the ideal of self-restraint and wise reflexion. The third book will do the same for the Trojan side, showing us in vivid outline Hector, Paris, and Priam, and their chief advocate in heaven, the goddess Aphrodite, with her victim, Helen, the centre of the tragedy." BOOK II. THIS TRIAL OP THE AEMY AND CATALOGUE OP THE FORCES. Jupiter, in pursuance of the request of Thetis, sends a deceitful vision to Agamemnon, persuading him to lead the army io battle, in order to make the Greeks sensible of their want of Achilles. The general, who is deluded with tiie hopes of taking Troy without his assistance, but fears the army was discouraged by his absence and the late plague, as well as by length of time, contrives to make trial of their disposition by a stratagem. He first communicates his de- sign to the princes in council, that be would propose a return to the soldiers, and that they should put a stop to them if the proposal was embraced. Then he assembles the whole host, and upon moving for a return to Greece, they unanimously agree to it, and run to pre- pare the ships. They are detained by the management of Ulysses, who chastises the insolence of Thcrsites. The assembly is recalled, several speeches made on the occasion, and at length the advice of Nestor followed, which was to make a general muster of the troops, and to divide them into tlieir several nations, before they proceeded to battle. This gives occasion to the poet to enumerate all the forces of the Greeks and Trojans in a large catalogue. Tlie time employed in this book consists not entirely of one day. The scene lies in the Grecian camp and upon the sea-shore ; toward the end it removes to Troy. BOOK III. THE DUEL OF MEXELAUS AND PARIS. The armies being ready to engage, a single combat is agi-eed upon between jMenelaiis and Taris (by the intervention of Hector) for the determination of the Λvar. Iris is sent to call Helen to behold the light. She leads her to the walls of Troy, where Priam sat with his counsellors, observing the Grecian leaders on the plain below, to whom Helen gives an account of the chief of them. The kings on either part take the solemn oath for the conditions of the combat. The duel ensues, wherein Paris, being overcome, is snatched aw^ay in a cloud by Venus, and transported to his apartment. She then calls Helen from the walls, and brings the lovers together. Agamemnon, on the })art of the Grecians, demands the restoration of Helen, and the performance of the articles. The three-and-twentieth day still continues throughout this book. The scene is sometimes iu the field before Troy, and sometimes in Trov itself. \ BOOK IV. THE BREACH OF THE TRUCE AND THE FIRST BATTLE. The Gods deliberate i:i council concerning the Trojan war : they agree upon the continuation of it, and Jupiter sends down Minerva to break the truce. She persuades Pandarus to aim an arrow at MenelaQs, who is wounded, but cured by Machaon. In tlie mean- time some of the Trojan troops attack the Greeks. Agamemnon is distinguished in all the parts of a good general ; he reviews the 36 THE ILIAD ( troops, and exhorts the It^mlers, some by praises, and otheis hy reproofs. Nestor is particularly celebrated for his military discipline. The battle joins, and frreat ninnl>ers arc slain on both sides. The same day eoiiliimes througli this, as through the last book ; as it does also through the two following, and almost to the end of the seventh book. The sceue is wholly in the field before Troy. BOOK V. TUK ACT8 OF iHOMiiD. Dioraed, assistetl by Pallas, performs wonders in this day's battle. Pandarus wounds him with an arrow, but the goddess cures him, enables him to discern gods from mortals, and prohibits him from contending with any of the former, excepting Venus. ^Eneas joins Pandarus to oppose him, Pandarus is killed, and jEneas in great danger but for the assistance of A'enus, who, as she is removing her son from the fight, is wounded on the hand by Diomed. Apollo seconds her in his rescue, and at length carries off ^]neas to Tifoy, where he is Iiealed in the temple of Pergamus. Mare rallies the Trojans, and assists Hector to make a stand. In the mean time uEneas is restored to the field, and they overthrow several of the Greeks ; among the ivst Tle|H>lemus is slain by Sarpedon. Juno and Minerva descend to resist Mars ; the latter incites Diomeil to go against that gotl ; Le W4>uiid:i him, and ijeuds him gi-oMuing to heaven. The first battle continues through this book. The scene is the same as in the former. BOOK VL* TTIE ARGUMENT. THE EPISODES OF GLAUCUS AND DIOMED, AND OP HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. The gods having left the field, the Grecians prevail, flelenus, the chief augur of Troy, commands Hector to return to the city, in order to appoint a solemn procession of the queen and the Trojan * Leaf, iiitrcxiucing this lKX)k, says: "Of all the Iliad, this incom- parable book attains the grandest height of narrative and composi tion, of action luiii jiathos. Nowhere else have we so perfect a BOOK YI 37 matrons to the temple of Minerva, to entreat her to remove Diomed from the fight. The battle relaxing during the absence of Hector, Glaucus and Diomed have an interview between the two armies ; where, coming to the knowledge of the friendship and hospitality past between their ancestors, they make exchange of their arms. Hector, having performed the orders of Helenus, prevailed upon Paris to return to the battle, and, taking a tender leave of his wife Andromache, hastens again to the field. The scene is first in the field of battle, between the rivers Siraois and Scamander, and then changes to Troy. Now lieav'n forsakes the fight ; th' immortals yield To humiiii force and luiman skill the field : Dark show'rs of jav'liiis fly from foes to foes ; Now here, now there, the tide of combat flows ; While Troy's fam'd streams, that bound the deathful plain, On either side run purple to the main. Great Ajax first to conquest led the way, Broke the thick ranks, and turn'd the doubtful day. The Thracian Acamas his falchion found, And hewM th' enormous giant to the ground ; 10 gallery of types of human character; the two pairs, Hector and Paris, Helen' and Andromache, in their truthfulness and contrast, form a group as subtly as they are broadly drawn ;' while, on the other hand, the «battle vignettes,' witii which the book opens, and the culmination of the scenes of war in the meeting of Glaukos and Diomedes, set beforc us with unequalled vivaxiity the pride of life of an heroic age, the refinement of feeling which no fierceness of fight can barbarise, in the most consummate manner of the ' great stvle.' " 1. Heavn. The deities mentioned in Book v. (see Argument). 5. Famd streams. Look up iii map. Every place mentioned should be located. 6. Purple. Used as Milton and Gray used it (see Lycidas and Ode to Spring), in its Latin sense of bright-coloretl. Note, as a pecu- liarity of Pope's diction, his frequent use of words in the strict sense of the Latin words from which they are derived. (See also i., 320.) 9. Acamas. Noted for valor. Marr, had assumed his shai>e. When ? ) 38 THE ILIAD BOOK VI B9 i' His thnridVing arm a deadly stroke impress'd Where the black horse-hair nodded o'er his crest : Fix^'d in his front the brazen weapon lies. And seals in endless shades liis swimming eyes. Kext Teutliras' son distaiii'd the sands with blood, Axylus, hospitable, rich, and good : • In fair Arisba's walls (his native place) He held his seat ; a friend to hnman race. Fast by the road, his ever-open door ObligM the wealthy and relievM the poor. 20 To stern Tydides now he falls a prey, ISTo friend to guard him in the dreadful day ! Breathless the good man fell, and by his side His faithful servant, old Calcsius, died. By great Euryalus was Dresus slain. And next he laid Opheltius on the plain. Two twins were near, bold, beautiful, and young. From a fair Naiad and Bucolion sprung (Laomcdon's white flocks Bucolion fed, That monarch's first-born by a foreign bed ; 30 In secret woods lie won the Naiad's grace. And two fair infants crown'd his strong embrace) : Here dead they lay in all their youthful charms ; The ruthless victor stripped their shining arms. Astyalus by Poly partes fell ; Ulysses' spear Pidytes sent to hell ; 14. Σι/β8. Compare the simple Homeric expression, " and dark- ness shrouded his eyes." Does Pope gain anything ? 19. FasL In the sense of close. Of. fast-haiided, dose-fiated, hard by. 20. Note the terse, compact phrasing. Collect other examples. 22. Suggests the pathos of his undeserved and unfriended fate. 24. Servant. Homer adds, *' the driver of his chariot," who may be regarded as akin to a knight's squire in later times. 27. Two twim. A curious lapse for the " correct " Pope. 28. Naiad. Fountain-nymph. What other kinds of nvmphs were there ? "f 40 50 By Teucer's shaft brave Aretaon bled, And Nestor's son laid stern Ablerus dead ; Great Agamemnon, leader of the brave. The mortal Avouiid of rich Elatus gave. Who held in Pedasus his proud abode, And till'd the banks where silver Satnio flow'd. Melanthius by Eurypylus was slain ; .And Phylacus from Leitus flies in vain. Unbless'd Adrastus next at mercy lies Beneath the Spartan spear, a living prize. Scar'd with the din and tumult of the fight. His headlong steeds, precipitate in flight, Kush'd on a tamarisk's strong trunk, and broke The shatter'd chariot from the crooked yoke ; Wide o'er the field, resistless as the wind. For Troy they fly, and leave their lord behind. Prone on his face he sinks beside the wheel. Atrides o'er him shakes his vengeful steel ; The fallen chief in suppliant posture press'd The victor's knees, and thus his pray'r address'd : '' 0\\\ spare my youth, and for the life I owe Large gifts of price my father shall bestow : When fame shall tell that, not in battle slain. Thy hollow ships his captive son detain ; Rich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be told. And steel well-temper 'd, and persuasive gold. 37. Teucer, a famous archer ; son of Telamon, and step-brother of Ajax. 41. Pedasus. Homer's adjective ** steep " characterizes this town on the mountain slopes of Mysia. 46. Spartan spear. Of Menelaus ; " him of the loud war-cry " is Homer's epithet. 50. Chariot. For a plan of the chariot, see Autenrieth, p. 34. Cf. also xxiv., 335-340, and Introduction, p. xxvi, 58. Bestow. As ransom : the only condition on which a victim was spared. 59. Fame. In the Latin sense of report, rumor. 61, 62. Brass and sted. The prose has " bronze " and " smithied iron."' Grote says that " the Homeric descriptions universally pre- 60 J9 i I I ίΒΐ;ίί1ίίΐΒίί^''ί>-•'''ί''^ -!ί.•.^.ν^««η;.ϋυ a / 40 TMM ITjTAJ} BOOK VI 41 He said : compassion toiicli'd tlie hero's heart ; He stood suspended with tlie lifted dart. As pity pleaded for his vanquisli'd prize, Stern Agamemnon swift to vengeance flies, And furious thus : '' impotent of mind ! Shall these, shall these Atrides' mercy find ? Well hast thou known proud Troy's perfidious land. And well her natives merit at thy hand ! 70 Kot one of all the race, nor sex, nor age. Shall save a Trojan from our boundless rage ; Ilion shall perish whole, and bury all ; Her babes, her infants at the breast, shall fall. A dreadful lesson of exampled fate. To warn the nations and to curb the great ! '' The monarch spoke ; the Avords, with warmth addressed, To rigid justice steel'd his brother's breast. Fierce from his knees the hapless chief he thrust ; The monarcli's jav'lin stretch'd him in the dust. 80 Then, pressing with his foot his panting heart, Forth from the slain ho tugg\l the reeking dart. Old Nestor saw, and rous'd the warriors' rage : '•'Thus, heroes ! thus the vigorous combat wage ! Xo son of Mars descend, for servile gains, To touch the booty, while a foe remains. suppose copper and not iron to be employed for arms, both offensive and defensive. By what process the copper was tempered and liard- encd so as to serve the purpose of the warrior, we do not know ; but the use of iron for these objects belongs to a later age." See also Gladstone and Jebb. Coined money was unknown at tliis time. 61. Tuid, counted. Cf. Fsaltn xe. 9, and our word "teller." 04. Suspended. In the original Latin sense of wavering, hesitat- ing, waiting. Cf. suspe7ise. 70. Ironical, of course ; seeing that the wrong done to Meneluus had caused the war. 80. Contrast fierce Agamemnon and his compassionate brother. Pope's note says that the fact tliat Agamemnon's cruel deed is not blamed by Homer " must be ascribed to the uncivilized manners of those times. The historical books of the Old Testaiueiit abound in instances of tlie like cruelty to conquereil enemies." 99 90 Behold yon glitt'ring host, your future spoil I^ ^^First gain the conquest, then reward the toil.' And now liad Greece eternal fame acquired. And frighted Troy within her walls retir'd ; Had not sage Helenus her state redress'd, Taught by the gods that mov'd his sacred breast. Where Hector stood, with great ^neas join'd, Tlie seer reveaFd the counsels of his mind : " Ye gen'rous chiefs ! on whom th' immortals lay The cares and glories of this doubtful day. On whom your aids, your country's hopes depend, AVise to consult and active to defend ! Here, at our gates, your brave efforts unite. Turn back the routed, and forbid the flight ; 100 Ere yet their wives' soft arms the cowards gain. The sport and insult of the hostile train. When your commands have hearten'd ev'ry band. Ourselves, here fix'd, Avill make the dang'rous stand ; Press'd as we are and sore of former fight. These straits demand our last remains of might. Meanwhile, thou, Hector, to the town retire. And teach our mother what the gods require : Direct the queen to lead th' assembled train Of Troy's chief matrons to Minerva's fane ; 110 Unbar the sacred gates, and seek the pow'r. With offer'd vows, in Hion's topmost tow'r. ^88. A good example of Pope's condensed, sententious style : com- ])are the prose version. Look for other examples. 91. Helenus. Son of Priam ; Hector's brother, therefore. Tl.e ])riests were not a class apart. They fought in the wars. Cf. Chris- tian warrior-priests, who sometimes fought in the Middle Ages. 91. Redress'd. Improved her condition by rallying the Trojans for the time being. His plan of api>easing Minerva does not avail. 93. JEneas. See Introduction, p. xi. 99. Efforts. Note accent on second syllable. 104. Dangerous stand. Expand this figure. 108. Mother. See 1. 313. 110. Fa UK Temple ; from the Latin. ttt»aiaSiia">---«''-«.*-ijaMau.i 42 TMM ILIAD The largest mantle her rich wardrobes liold. Most priz'd for art, and laboured o'er with gold. Before tlie goddess' honour'd knees be spread ; ' And twelve young lieifers to lier altars led. If so tlie pow'r, atoii'd by fervent prayer. Our wives, our infants, and our city spare. And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire, Tliat mows whole troops and makes all Troy retire. Not thus Acliilles taught our hosts to dread, • Sprung thougli he was from more tlian mortal bed : Kot thus resistless ruFd the stream of fight, In rage unbounded and nnniatcli'd in nriglil.'' Hector obedient heard, and with a bound Leaped from liis trembling chariot to the ground ; Through all his host, inspiring force, he Hies, And bids the thunder of the battle rise. With rage recruited tlie bold Trojans glow. And turn the tide of conflict on the foe : Fierce in the front he shakes two dazzling speans ; All Greece recedes, and midst her triumpii fears / Some god, they thouglit, wlio rul'd the fate of wa Shot down avenging from tlie vault of stars. Then thus, aloud : " Ye dauntless Dardans, hear And you whom distant nations send to war ! rs, no 130 » C- ^ 113. Mantle. The Greek "pcplos ; " a robe used, by skilful fold- ing and hanging, as a garment by women, and as a covering for chariots, chairs, and funeral m-ns. Tlie beautiful Parthenon frieze represents the Athenians bringing the peplos to their patron god- dess. 115. Knees, Suggests that the statue was a sealed figure, unlike later statues, which represent Minerva standing. 117-120. Construction elliptical : paraphrase the passage. 119. Wasteful. Γ/', i.. 8Γ, and 430. 125. Hector obedient heard. Note again Pope's condensation. The prose version reads, " So si)ake he, and Hector disregarded not his brother's word." 135. There is eifective alliteration here. To what extent does Poi)e make use of alliteration in tJiis book ? Compare with Book i. BOOK VI 43 Be mindful of the strength your fathers bore ; Be still yourselves, and Hector asks no more. One hour demands me in the Trojan wall. To bid our altars flame and victims fall : Nor shall, I trust, the matrons' holy train And rev'rend elders seek the gods in vain.'' This said, with ample strides the hero pass'd ; The shield's large orb behind his shoulder cast, Ilis neck o'ershading, to his ankle hung ; And as he march'd the brazen buckler rung. Now paus'd the battle (godlike Hector gone). When daring Glaucus and great Tydeus' son Between both armies met ; the chiefs from far Observ'd each other, and had mark'd for war. Near as they drew, Tydides thus began : ** What art thou, boldest of the race of man ? Our eyes, till now, that aspect ne'er beheld, Where fame is reap'd amid th' embattled field ; Yet far before the troops thou darst appear. And meet a lance the fiercest heroes fear. 140 150 145. As to the Greek shield, see Introduction, p. xxvi. In using the word brazen, Pope is wrong. 147. Paused the battle. The poet, too, pauses, and relieves his tale of war by delightful digressions and contrasts» — the stories of Lycurgus and Bellerophon, and of Hector's experiences within the )y/€ity with Paris and with Aiidromache and his child. These are examples of the charm of variety which is one of the secrets of Homer's irresistible attractiveness. This variety makes of the " Iliad '* an epitome of ancient Greek civilisation in all its important aspects, revealing its quiet domestic life no less than its fierceness of war. 147. Hector. Homer's epithet lacking again : " Hector of the glancing helm." 150. For war. Such single combats were frequent in ancient and mediaeval wars. Cf. Arnold's Sohrab and Rustum, Scott's Lay of the Last 3ii?i8trel, etc. 156. As Glaucus has not been conspicuous in the war, Diomed regards this challenge as somewhat of an indignity put upon him. / 44 ΊΊΙΚ ILJAIJ Unhappy tliey and born of luckless sires, λνΐιο tempt our fury wlien Minerva fires ! But if from heaven, celestial, thou descend. Know, with immortals we no more contend. Kot long Lycurgus viewed the golden light, That daring man who mix^d with gods in fight. Bacchus and Bacchus' votaries he drove With brandish'd steel from Xyssa's sacred grove : Tlieir consecrated spears lay scatter'd round, AVith curling vines and twisted ivy bound ; While Bacchus headlong sought the briny flood. And Thetis' arms received the trembling god. Nor fail'd the crime th' immortals' wrath to move'j (Til' immortals bless'd with endless ease above) ; ^ Deprived of sight by their avenging doom, Clieerless he breath'd and v/anderd in the gloom : Then sunk unpitied to the dire abodes, A wretch accursVI and liated by the god 1 brave not heaven ; but if the fruits of earth Sustain thy life, and human be thy birth, Bold as thou art, too prodigal of breath, Approach, and enter the dark gates of death." "What, or from whence I am, or wlio my sire (Replied the chief), *• can Tydeus' son inquire ? :^ yy 160 170 180 100. Contend. As Diomed liud so recently fought with the gods, this is held to show great inconsistency ; but Mr. Lang makes light of tlie objection {Homer and the Epic, pp. 110, 111). 164. The austere Lycurgus, objecting to the corrupting worship of Bacclius, witii its revelry, had forcibly driven away the wine- god and his Bacchantes from his domains ; and for this insolence against an immortal he was made blind by Zeus. Look up the details. 165. Spears. The wrong word ; the reference is to the wands or thyrsi, wreathed with ivy and surmounted by a pine cone, which were carried by the Bacchantes. \# 174. Gods. This poor rhyme, following close npon another (find it), suggests that we should look into Pope's rhyming again. 176. Life. What sustained tlie goils ? 190 BOOK VI 45 Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withVing on the ground : Another race the following spring supplies ; They fall successive and successive rise : So generations in their course decay ; So flourish these, when those are pass'd away. But if thou still persist to search my birth, Then hear a tale that fills the spacious earth. *' A city stands on Argos' utmost bound (Argos the fair, for warlike steeds renown'd) ; ^olian Sisyphus, with wisdom bless'd, In ancient time the happy walls possess^. Then caird Ephyre : Glaucus was his son. Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon, AVho o'er the sons of men in beauty shin'd, Lov'd for that valour which preserves mankind. Then mighty Proetus Argos' sceptre sway'd, AVliose hard commands Bellerophon obey'd. With direful jealousy the monarch rag'd. And the brave prince in numerous toils engaged. For him Antea burn'd >vith lawless flame. And strove to tempt him from the paths of fame : In vain she tempted the relentless youth, Endu'd with wisdom, sacred fear, and truth. Fir'd at his scorn, the queen to Proetus fled. And begg'd revenge for her insulted bed. Incens'd he heard, resolving on his fate ; But hospitable laws restrained his hate : To Lycia the devoted youth he sent, AVith tablets seal'd, that told his dire intent. 210 182. Ground. The simile plays an important part in Homer. See Introiluction, p. xviii. The student should collate and compare instances, and note their characteristic qualities. 189. Argos. See note on i., 45. 193. Ephyre, Afterwards called Corinth. 201. Laivless. In tlie sense of unlawful. 209. Scan this line. 210. Tablets. This seeuis to im{)ly that some kind of writing was 200 !l• jijaBaaaiaMaasMBtefiasiiiiii^^ kMMi I 46 THM ILIAD T\\ T\^ Now, bless'd by ev'ry pow'r who guards the good. The cliief arrived at Xaiithus' silver flood : There Lycia's monarch paid him lionours due; Nine davs he feasted, and nine bulls he slew. But when tlie tenth bright morning orient glow'd, The faithful youth his monarcirs mandate show'd : The fatal tablets, till that instant seaTd, The deathful secret to the king reveal'd. First, dire Chimagra's conquest was enjoined : A mingled monster, of no mortal kind ; 220 Behind, a dragon's fiery tail was spread ; A goat's rough body bore a lion's head ; Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire ; Her gaping throat emits infernal fire. "This pest he slaughtered (for he read the skieSj And trusted heav'n's informing prodigies) ; [ Then met in arms the Solvmsean crew (Fiercest of men), and those the warrior slew. Next the bold Amazons' whole force defied ; And conquer'd still, for heav'n was on his side. 230 known to the Greeks, but scholars differ upon this point. See Introduction, p. xiv. 214. It was the rule of the Greeks to entertain strangers gener- ously before any questions were asked. See Mahaffy's Social Life in Greece^ p. 48 et seq. 215. Again we lose a characteristic epithet, "the rosy-fingered dawn," and get Pope's " bright morning orient" in exchange. 219. Chimmra, a divine creature. Compare other similar crea- tions of the Greek imagination. Centaurs, etc. This is the only instance in Homer of such ujixed monsters. Cf. i., 527. 223. Expire. In the Latin sense, breathe forth. Would you regard this line as a good example of ouomato}xi4a ? 226. Prodigies, portents. 227. Crew. Said to have l)een driven out of Lycia by the Lycians, who fouud them there on going to settle. 229. Amazons, λ nation ruled bv warlike women, to whom the woi-d generally refers. Look up. 47 239 BOOK VI " Nor ended here his toils : his Lycian foes. At his return, a treach'roiis ambusli rose. With levcll'd spears along the winding shore : There fell they breathless, and returned no more. *• At length the monarch with repentant grief Confess'd the gods and god-descended cliief ; His daughter gave, the stranger to detain, With half the honours of his ample reign. The Lycians grant a chosen space of ground, With woods, with vineyards, and with harvests crown'd. There long the chief his happy lot possess'd, With two brave sons and one fair daughter bless'd (Fair ev'n in heav'nly eyes ; her fruitful love Crown'd with Sarpedon's birth th' embrace of Jove) ; But when at last, distracted in his mind, Forsook by heav'n, forsaking human kind. Wide o'er th' Aleian field he chose to stray, A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way ! Woes heap'd on woes consum'd his wasted heart ; His beauteous daughter fell by Phoebe's dart ; 250 His eldest-born by raging 3Iars was slain. In combat on the Sulymaean plain. Hippolochus survived ; from him I came. The honour'd author of my birth and name; By his decree I sought the Trojan town, By his instructions learn to win renown ; To stand the first in worth as in command. To add new honours to my native land, 231. Toils. Compare with these labors those of Hercules and Jason. 236. Confess d. See note on i., 265. 238. lieign. See note on i., 3. 242. Sons and daugJifer. Homer gives their names : Isandro.<, Ilippolochos, and Laodameia. 243. Her. Laodameia's. 244. Sarpedon. See Introduction, p. xi. 247. Aleian field. The "field of wandering," in Cilicia. 250. Phoebe. Artemis, Diana ; represented in Homer as the god- dess who has power to inflict on women sudden and painless death See note on i., 60 ; vi., 543 ; xxiv., 761. ff' 48 THE ILIAD 260 270 Before my eyes my mighty sires to place, And emulate the jrlories of our race/' He spoke, and transport fill'd Tydides' heart ; In earth the gen'rous warrior fix'd his dart ; Then friendly, thus, the Lycian prince addressed : '' Welcome, my brave hereditary guest I Thus ever let us meet, with kind embrace, Nor stain the sacred friendship of our race. Know, chief, our grandsires have been guests of old, (Eneus the strong, Bellerophon the bold ; Our ancient seat his honour'd presence grac'd. Where twenty days in genial rites he passM. The parting heroes mutual presents left : A golden goblet was thy grandsire's gift ; (Eneus a belt of matchless work bestowed, That rich with Tyrian dye refulgent glow'd (This from his pledge I learnM, which, safely storM Among my treasures, still adorns my board : For Tydeus left me young, when Thebe's ΛνπΙΙ Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall). Mindful of this, in friendship lot us join ; If heav'n our steps to foreign lands incline, My guest in Argos tliou, and I in Lycia thine. Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield, In the full harvest of yon ample field ; Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore ; But thou and Diomed bo foes no more. Now change we arms, and prove to cither host We guard the friendship of tlie line we boast.'* 262. All iutiination that he desired to refrain from hostilities. i/ 2G4. Shows the importaneo attached by the Greeks to guest- friendship. 274. Here Pope expands: the prose reads simply, •*Oineus gave a belt bright with purple." 277, 278. "When the Aehaian host perished at Thebes." 279-281. What about the versification here ? Is the rhyme gooil ? What about the couplet ? A little farther on is another instance of three rhyming lines. Fiud others in Book xxiv. BOOK VI 280 49 Thus having said, the gallant chiefs alight, Their hands they join,iheir mutual faith they plight ; Brave Glaucus then each narrow thought resign'd 290 (Jove warm'd his bosom and enlarg'd liis mind) : For Diomed's brass arms, of mean device, For which nine oxen paid (a vulgar price), He gave his own, of gold divinely wrought : A hundred beeves the shining purchase bought. Meantime the guardian of the Trojan state, (freat Hector, enterVl at the Sc^an gate. Beneath the beech-tree's consecrated shades. The Trojan matrons and the Trojan maids Around him flock'd, all press'd with pious care 300 For husbands, brothers, sons, engaged in war. He bids the train in long procession go. And seek the gods, t' avert th' impending woe. And now to Priam's stately courts he came, Kais'd on arch'd columns of stupendous frame ; O'er these a range of marble structure runs. The rich pavilions of his fifty sons. In fifty chambers lodg'd : and rooms of state OpposM to those, where Pj-ianr s daughters sate : Twelve domes for them and their lov'd spouses shone, 310 Of equal beauty and of polished stone. Hither great Hector pass'd, nor pass'd unseen Of royal Hecuba, his mother queen 288. Aligld. From their chariots. 291-295. The prose puts a very diiicrent complexion on the mat- ter. Ii reads, " But now Zeus, son of Kronos, took from Glaukos his wits"— so foolish is the exchange. But Cowper's interpretation is that Glaucus, impressed by the lil)erality shown by Belleroplioii to a:iieus, determined not to fall below the example of his ancestor, and tiiereforc consented to an exchange so very unequal. 297. Sccean. The great gate, flanked by η tower, on the west side of Troy, looking toward the Grecian camp. 298. Beech-free. Should be oak-tree. See 1. 551 and note thereon. 310. Domes. See note on i., 57C. i .. .«««M-.-Mr I „, Hi nmfffMlilin 50 THE ILIAD (With her Laodieo, whose beauteous face Surpassed the nymphs of Troy's iUustrious race). Long in a strict embrace she hekl her son, And pressed his hand, and tender thus begun : " Hector ! say, what great occasion calls My son from fight, when Greece surrounds our walls ? Com'st thou to supplicate th' almighty pow'r, 320 With lifted hands from Ilion's lofty tow'r ? Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus crown'd. In Jove's high name, to sprinkle on the ground. And pay due vows to all the gods around. Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy soul. And draw new spirits from the gen'rous bowl ; Spent as thou art with long laborious fight. The brave defender of thy country's right/' " Far hence be Bacchus' gifts " (the chief rejoin'd) ; '* Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind, 330 Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble mind. Let chiefs abstain, and spare the sacred juice To sprinkle to the gods, its better use. By me that holy office were prof an 'd ; III fits it me, with human gore distain'd, To the pure skies these horrid hands to raise. Or offer heav'n's great sire polluted praise. 314. Laodic^, her daugliter. 316. Strict, close ; from a Latin word meaning to draw tight. 821. Toid'r, eiladel. 322. Bacchus. Another instance of the affected classicism of Pope's time. Iloniyr says nothing about Bacchus; "honey-sweet wine" is the prose rendering. The generous hotvl is another un- Ilomeric phrase. 327. Spent. In the sense of wasted, exhausted. 331. This little temperance iiomily is Pojie's. Compare the prose version. 332. Spare, Be sparing of. Of. the proverb "Spare the rod," etc. 3;]G. Horrid. Used more in its Ijatiu sense of rough, soiled, un- sightly. See note on i., 300. BOOK VJ 51 You, with your matrons, go, a spotless train ! And burn rich odours in Minerva's fane. Tlie largest mantle your full wardrobes hold, 340 Most priz'd for art, and laboured o'er with gold. Before the goddess' honour'd knees be spread. And twelve young heifers to her altar led, 8o may the pow'r, aton'd by fervent pray'r, Our wives, our infants, and our city spare. And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire. Who mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire. Be this, mother, your religious care ; I go to rouse soft Paris to the war : If yet, not lost to all the sense of shame, 350 The recreant warrior hear the voice of fame. Oh would kind earth the hateful wretch embrace. That pest of Troy, that ruin of our race ! Deep to the dark abyss might he descend, Troy yet should flourish, and my sorrows end." This heard, she gave command ; and summon'd came " Each noble matron and illustrious dame. The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went, AVhere treasur'd odours breath'd a costly scent. There lay the vestures of no vulgar art, 360 Sidonian maids embroider'd ev'ry part. Whom from soft Sidon youthful Paris bore. With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore. Here as the queen revolv'd with careful eyes The various textures and the various dyes, 347. These lines repeat 114-120, above. 351. Fame. See line 59. 353. Pest, bane. Cf. pestitence. 363. According to the legend, Paris and Helen, on their way from Sparta to Troy, were driven by storms to Egypt; and going thence to Troy, they put in at Sidon. The maids were carried olf by Paris with other plunder. The Sidonians Λvere very skilful artificers. 364. Λβΐ'θΖι»'ί?, considered carefully; '• turned over " in her mind, A Latin expression. m TEE ILIAD She chose a veil that shone superior far. And glow'd refulgent as the morning star. Herself with this the long procession leads ; The train majestically slow proceeds. Soon as to Ilion's topmost tow'r they come, 370 And awful reach the high Palladian dome, Antenor's consort, fair Theano, waits As Pallas' priestess, and unbars the gates. Wil;h hands uplifted and imploring eyes. They fdl the dome with supplicating cries. The priestess then the shining veil displays. Placed on Minerva's knees, and thus she prays : *' awful goddess ! ever-dreadful maid, Troy's strong defence, nnconquer'd Pallas, aid I Break thou Tyd ides' spear, and let him fall 380 Prone on the dust before the Trojan wall. So twelve young heifers, guiltless of the yoke. Shall fill thy temple with a grateful smoke. But thou, aton'd by penitence and pray'r. Ourselves, our infants, and our city spare \'* So pray'd the priestess in her holy fane ; So vow'd the matrons, but they vow'd in vain. ' AVhile these appear before the pow'r Avith pray'rs. Hector to Paris' lofty dome repairs. Himself the mansion rais'd, from every part 390 Assembling architects of matchless art. 367. Ghnv'd refulgent. This phrase has occurred before. It is very characteristic of Pui)€'s more poivif)ous, decorative manner. 369. This oiiomatopoetic lino is another piece of Pope's em- broidery. 371. Palladia^ dome, Minerva's temple. Palladian is derived from Pallas. Dome lias been used in this sense liefore. 372. Theano, sister of Hecuba, and daughter of Cisseus, aThracian prince. 382. Guiltless of the yoke, never harnessed for labor. 383. Grateful, pleasing. 384. Afon'd, See note on i, Θ0. 400 BOOK VI 53 Near Priam's court and Hector's palace stands The pompous structure, and the town commands. A spear the hero bore of wond'rous strength : Of full ten cubits was the lance's length ; The steely point, with golden ringlets join'd, Before him brandish'd, at each motion shin'd. Thus ent'ring, in the glitt'ring rooms he found His brother-chief, whose useless arms lay round. His eyes delighting with their splendid show, Bright'ning the shield, and polishing the bow. Beside him Helen with her virgins stands. Guides their rich labours, and instructs their hands. Him thus inactive, with an ardent look The prince beheld, and high-resenting spoke : **Thy hate to Troy is this the time to show (0 wretch ill-fated and thy country's foe) ? Paris and Greece against us both conspire, Thv close resentment, and their vengeful ire. For thee great Hion's guardian heroes fall. Till heaps of dead alone defend her wall ; * For thee the soldier bleeds, the matron mourns. And wasteful war in all its fury burns. Ungrateful man ! deserves not this thy care. Our troops to hearten and our toils to share ? Rise, or behold the conqu'ring flames ascend. And all the Phrygian glories at an end." 395. Ten cubits. That is, about sixteen feet long. This was probably no exaggeration. 396. Ringlets, rings to hold the head of the spear in its place, and to prevent the wooden sliaft from splitting. 394-401. What impression do these lines convey of the character of Paris ? 403. Hands. As they work at the loom. 404. Ardent, angry; his eye burning or flashing with indigna- tion. 405. This is one of several faulty rhymes that have occurred in this book. Enumerate them. 409. Close, secret ; cf. closet. 410 if \\ ii 54 ΤΠΕ ILIAD II m 4 ** Brotlier, 'tis just " (replied the beanteoiis youth) ; **Thy free remonstrance proves thy worth and truth : Yet charge my absence less, generous chief, 420 On hate to Troy than conscious shame and grief : Here, hid from human eyes, thy brother sate. And mounr'd in secret his and II ion's fate. 'Tis now enough : now glory spreads her charms. And beauteous Helen calls her chief to arms. Con(juest to-day my happier sword may bless, /^'Tis man's to fight, but heav'n's to give success. But while I arm, contain thy ardent mind ; Or go, and Paris shall not lag behind.'' He said, nor answer'd Priam's warlike sou ; 430 When Helen thus with lowly grace begun : '' gen'rous brother ! if the guilty dame That caus'd these woes deserve a sister's name ! Would heav'n, ere all these dreadful deeds were done, Tiie day that show'd me to the golden sun Had seen my death ! AVhy did not whirlwinds bear The fatal infant to the fowls of air ? Why sunk I not beneath the whelming tide, And midst the roarings of the waters died ? Heav'n fill'd up all my ills, and I accurst 440 Bore all, and Paris of those ills the worst. 405-418. In this speech of Hector's Homer i» much more brief and direct. Note the alliterations. 420, 421. By reason of his defeat by ^lenolaus. See Argument to Book iii. 425. Suggests again, the fatal jwwer of Helen's beauty, cause of all the trouble ; " the face " that, as Marlowe says, *' launchec acts of Teucer, who is at length wounded by lice tor, and carried oft. Juno and Minerva prepare to aid the Grecians, but are restrained by iris, sent from Jupiter. The night puts an end to the battle. Hector continues in the field (the Greeks bemg driven to their fortifications ])efore the ships), and gives orders to keep the watch all night in the camp, to prevent the enemy from reimbarking and escaping by flight. They kinulc fires through all the field, and pass the night under arms. The time of seven-and-twenty days is employed from the opening of the poem to the end of this book. The scene here (except of the celestial machines) lies in the field toward the sea-shore. BOOK IX. THE EMBABSY TO ACFIiLLES. Agamemnon, after the last day's defeat, proposes to the Greeks to quit tlie siege, and return to their country. Diomed opjwses this, and Nestor seconds him, praising his wisdom and resolution. He orders the guard to Ικί sti-engthened, and a council summoned to deliberate what measures were to be followed in this emergency. Agamemnon pursues this advice, and Ne&tor farther prevails upon ί Λ him to send ambassadors to Achilles, in order to move him to a recon- ciliation. Ulysses and Ajax are made choice of, who are accom- panied by old Phoenix. They make, each of them, very moving and pre.>?sing speeches, but are rejected with roughness by Achilles, who notwithstanding retains Phoenix in his tent. The ambassadors re- turn unsuccessfully to the camp, and the troops betake themselves to sleep. . This book, and the next following, take up the si)ace of one night, \ which is the twenty-seventh from the beginning of the f>oem. The / scene lies on the sea-shore, the statiiJii of the Grecian ships. y BOOK X. THE NIGHT ADVENTURE OF DIOMED AND ULYSfiES. Uiwn the refusal of Achilles to return to the army, the distress of Agamemnon is described in the most lively manner. He takes no rest that night, but pas.^^es through the caujp, awaking the leaders, and contriving all possible methods for the public safety. Menelaiis, Nestor, Ulysses, and Diomed are employed in raising the rest of the captains. They call a council of wai•, and determine to send scouts into the enemy's camp, to learn their posture, and discover their intentions. Diomed undertakes this hazardous enterprise, and makes choice of Ulysses for his companion. In their passage they surprise j Dolon, whom Hector had sent on a like design to the camp of the ; Grecians. From him they are informed of the situation of the * Trojan and auxiliary forces, and particularly of Rhesus and the Thracians who were lately arrived. They pass on with success, kill Rhesus with several of his olTicers, and seize the famous horses of that prince, with which they return in triumph to the camp. The same night continues; the scene lies in the two camps. BOOK XI. THE THIRD BATTLE AND THE ACTS OF AGAMEMNON. Agamemnon, having armed himself, leads the Grecians to battle; Hector prepares the Trojans to receive them; while Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva give the signals of war. Agamemnon bears all before him; and Hector is commanded by Jupiter (who sends Iris for that purpose) to decline the engagement, till the king should be wounded and retire from the field. He then makes a great slaughter of the enemy; Ulysses and Diomed put a stop to him for a time; but the \ • tio ΤΒΜ JldJAi Jj latter, Wing wounded by Paris, is obliged to desert his companion, who is encompassed by the Trojans, wounded, and in the utmost dan- ger, till Menelaiis and Ajax rescue him. Hector comes against Ajax. but that hero alone opposes multitudes and rallies the Greeks. Tn the meantime Machaon, in the other wing of the army, is pierced with an arrow by Paris, and carried from the fight in Nestor's chariot. Achilles (who overlooked the action from his ship) sends Patroclus to inquire which of the Greeks was wounded in that manner. Nestor entertains him in his tent with an account of the accidents of the day, and a long recital of some former wars which he had remem- bered, tending to put Patrwdus uiK>n j^ersuading Achilles to fight for his countrymen, or at least to pi^rmit him to do it clad in Achilles' armour. Patroclus in Ids return meets Eurypylus, also wounded, and assists him in that di^stress. This book opens with the eight-and-twentieth day of the poem ; and the same day, with its various actions and adventures, is extended through the twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteeoth, sixteenth, seventeenth, and part of the eighteenth books. The scene lies in the field near the monument of llus. BOOK XII. THE BATTLE AT THE GRECIAN WALL. The Greeks lieing retired into their intrenchments. Hector attempts to force them; but it proving impossible to pass the ditch, Polyda- mas advises to quit their chariots and manage the attack on foot. The Trojans follow his counsel, and having divided their army into five bodies of foot, begin the assault. But upon the signal of an eagle with a serpent in his talons, which apix'ared on the left hand of the Trojans, Polydamas endeavoui-s to withdraw them again. This Hector opposes, and continues the attack ; in which, after many actions, Sarpedon makes the first breach in the wall: Hector also, casting a stone of a vast size, forces open one of the gates, and enters at the head of his troops, who victoriously pursue the Grecians even to their ships. BOOK XIII. TITE FOURTH BATT1.B CONTINUED, IN WHICH NEPTUNE ASSISTS THE GREEKS : THE ACTS OF IDOMENEUS. Neptune, concerned for the loss of the Grecians, upon seeing the fortification forced by Hector (who had entered the gate near the station of the Ajaxos), assumes the shape of Chalcas, and inspii-es BOOK XI V 07 those heroes to oppose him : then, in the form of one of the generals, encourages the other Greeks, who had retired to their vessels. The Ajaxes form their troops into a close phalanx, and put a stop to Hector and the Trojans. Several deeds of valour are [icrfornud ; Meriones, losing his spear in the encounter, repairs to seek another at the tent of Idomeneus : this occasions a conversation between these two warriors, who return together to the battle. Idomeneus signalizes his courage above the rest ; he kills Othryoneus, Asius, and Alcathous: Deiphobus and iEneas march agiuii3t him, and at length Idomeneus retires. Menelaiis wounds Hcienus, and kills Pisander. The Trojans are repulsed in the left wing. Hector still keeps his ground against the Ajaxes, till, being galled by the Locrian slingers and archers, Polydamas advises to call a council of war: Hector approves his advice, but goes first to rally the Trojans; upbraids Paris, rejoins Polydamas, meets Ajax again, and renews the attack. The eight-and-twentieth day still continues. The scene is between the Grecian wall and the sea-shore. BOOK XIV. .TUNO DECEIVES JUPITER BY THE GIRDLE OP VENUS. Nestor, sitting at the table with Machaon, is alarmed with the increasing clamour of the war, and hastens to Agamemnon : on his way he meets that prince with Diomcd and Ulysses, whom he informs of the extremity of the danger. Agamemnon proposes to make their escape by night, which Ulysses withstands; to Λvhich Diomed adds his advice, tliat, wounded as they were, they should go forth and encourage the army with their presence ; which advice is pursued. Juno, seeing the partiality of Jupiter to the Trojans, forms a design to overreach him ; she sets off her charms with tlie utmost care, and (the more surely to enchant him) obtains the magic girdle of Venus. She then applies herself to the goil of Sleep, and with some dilficulty persuades him to seal the eyes of Jupiter ; this done, she goes to Mount Ida, where the god, at first sight, is ravished with her beauty, sinks in her embraces, and is laid asleep. Neptune takes advantage of liis slumber, and succours the Greeks ; Hector is struck to the ground Avith a prodigious stone by Ajax, and carried off from the battle : several actions succeed ; till the Trojans, much distressed, are obliged to give way ; the lesser Ajax signalizes himself in a particular manner. 68 THE ILIAD BOOK XV. ΤΠΚ FIFTH uATTUi:, λτ TiiK ships; and tiir acts of a.iax. Jupiter, awaking, sees the Trojanf? rcpnlscd from the trenches. Hector in' a swoon, and Nei>tnne at tlie licad of tlie Greeks ; he is highly incensed at the artifice of Juno, who api>eases him by her submissions; she is then sent to Iris and Ai)ollo. Juno, repairing to the assembly of the gods, attempts with extraordinary address to incense them against Jupiter ; in particuhir she touches JVtars with a violent resentment ; he is ready to take arms but is prevented by Minerva. Iris and Ai)ollo olx'y the orders of Jupiter ; Iris com- mands Neptune to leave the Ijattle, to which, after much reluctauce and passion, he consents, Αίκ»11ο reinspires Hector with vigour, brings liim back to the battle, marches before him with his jegis, and turns the fortune of the fight. He breaks down great part of the Grecian wall ; the Trojans rush in, and attempt to fire the first line of the fleet, but are yet repelled by the greater Ajax with a prodi- gious slaughter. BOOK XVT. THE SIXTH BATTLE ; TUB ACTS AND DEATH OF PATROCLUS. Patrwlus (ill pursuance of the request of Nestor in the eleventh lMM>k) entreats Achilles to suffer him to go to the assistance of ttie Greeks with Achilles' troops and armcmr. Ho agrees to it, Init at the siime time charges him to content himself with rescuing the fleet, without farther pursuit of the enemy. The armour, horses, soldiers, and officers of Achilles are descril>ed. Achilles otTors a liba- tion for the success of his friend, after which Pat rod us leads the Myrmidons to battle. The Trojans, at the sight of. Patroclus in Achilles' armour, taking him for that hero, are cast into the utmost consternation : he beats them off from the vessels. Hector iiimself flies, Sarpedon is killed, though Jupiter was averse to his fate. Several other particulars of the battle are described, in the lieat of which Patroclus, neglecting the orders of Achilles, pursues the foe to the walls of Troy, where Apollo repulses and disarms him. Euphorbus wounds him, and Hector kills him : which concludes the book. BOOK XV I Π CD BOOK XVII. THE SEVENTH BATTLE, FOR THE BODY OP PATROCLUS ; THE ACTS OF Μ EN EL A its. MenelaQs, upon the death of Patroclus, defends liis Ixnly from the enemy : Euphorbus, who attempts it, is slain. Hector advancing, Menelaiis retires ; but siK)n returns with Ajax, and drives him off. . This Glaucus objects to Hector as a flight, who thereupon puts on \ the armour he had won from Patroclus, and renews the battle. The / Greeks give way, till Ajax rallies them: ^]neas sustains the Trojans. u*]neas and Hector attempt the chariot of Achilles, which is borne \ off by Automedon. The horses of Achilles deplore the loss of / Patroclus : Jupiter covei-s his body with a thick darkness : the noble prayer of Ajax on that occasion. Menelaus sends Antilochus to Achilles, with the news of Patroclus' death, then returns to the fight, where, though attacked with the utmost fury, he and Meriones, assisted by the Ajaxes, bear off the body to the ships. The time is the evening of the eight-and-twentieth day. The scene lies in the fields before Troy, BOOK XVIII. THE GRIEF OF ACHILLES, AND NEW ARMOUR MADE HIM BY VULCAN. The news of the death of Patroclus is brought to Achilles by An- tilochus. Thetis, hearing his lamentations, comes with all lier sea- nymphs to comfort him. The speeches of the mother and son on this occasion. Iris appears to Achilles by the command of Juno, and orders him to show himself at the head of the intrenchments. The sight of him turns the fortune of the day, and the body of Patroclus is carried off by the Greeks. The Trojans call a council, where Hector and Polydamas disagree in their opinions; but the ad- vice of the former prevails, to remain encamped in the field. The grief of Achilles over the body of Patroclus. Thetis goes to the [)alace of Vulcan, to obtain new arms for her s.^i. The description of the wonderful works of Vulcan; and, lastly, that noble one of the shield of Achillco. The latter part of the nine-and-twentieth day, and the night ensuing, take up this book. The scene is at Achilles' tent on the sea-shore, from whence it changes to the palace of Vulcan. \ 70 THE ILIAD BOOK XIX, THE RlBCOHCmAflOlf' OV AC8IUJS AND AGAMEMNON. Thetis brings to her son the armour made by Vulcan. She pre- serves the body of his friend from corruption, aTid commands liini to assemble the army, to declare his resentment at an end. Aga- memnon and Achilles are solemnly reconciled: the speeches, pres- ents, and ceremonies on that occasion. Achilles is with great diffi- culty persuaded to refrain from the battle till the troops have refreshed themselves, by the advice of Ulysses. The presents are conveyed to the tent of Achilles, where BriseTs laments over the V»ody of Patroclus. The hero obstinately refuses all repast, and gives himself up to lamentations for his friend. Minerva descenils to strengthen liim, by the order of Jupiter. He arms for the fight; his api)earance described. lie addresses himself to his horses, and reproaches them with the death of Patroclus. One of them is miraculously endued with voice, and inspired to prophesy his fate ; but the hero, not astonished by that prodigy, rushes with fury to the combat. The thirtieth day. The scene is ou the sea-shore. BOOK XX. THE BATTLE OF ΤΠΕ GODS AND THE ACTS OP ACHILLES. Jupiter, upon Achilles' return to the battle, calls a council of the goils, and permits them to assist either party. The terrors of the combat described when the deities are engaged. Apollo encourages ^neas to meet Achilles, After a long conversation, these two heroes encounter; but iEneas is preserved by the assistance of Nep- tune. Achilles falls upon the rest of the Trojans, and is ujjon the point of killing Hector, but Apollo conveys him away in a cloud. Achilles pursues the Trojans with a great slaughter. The same day continues. The scene is in the field before Troy. BOOK XXI. THE B.\TTLE IN THE KIVEll SCAMANDKK. The Trojans fly before Achilles, some toward the town, others to the river Scamander; he falls upon the latter with great slaughter, BOOK XXII 71 takes twelve captives alive, to sacrifice to the shade of Patroclus; and kills Lycaon and Asteropseus. Scamander attacks him with all his waves; Neptune and Pallas assist the hero; Simois joins Scaman- der; at length Vulcan, by the instigation of Juno, almost dries up the river. This combat ended, the other gods engage each other. Meanwhile Achilles continues the slaughter, and drives the rest into Troy: Agenor only makes a stand, and is conveyed 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 op- portunity of retiring into their city. The same day continues. The scene is on the banks and in the stream of Scamander. BOOK XXII.* THE DEATH OF HECTOR. The Trojans being safe within the walls. Hector only stays to op- pose Achilles. Priam is struck at his approach, and tries to per- suade 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 Deipho- bus; he stands the combat, and is slain. Achilles drags the dead body at his chariot, in the sight of Priam and Hecuba. Their lamen- tations, tears, and despair. Their cries reach the ears of Androm- ache, who, ignorant of this, was retired into the inner part of the palace; she mounts up to the walls, and beholds her dead hus- * '* In the swift action of this twenty-second book,'* says Professor Jebb, " we can recognize at least four general traits as preeminently Homeric. (1) The outlines of character are made distinct in deed, in dialogue, and in audible thought. (2) The divine and human agen- cies are interfused ; the scene passes rapidly from earth to Olympus, and again to earth ; the gods speak the same language as men,— noble,Vpt simple and direct ; the gods are superhuman in might,— human in love, in hate, and in guile. (3) Each crisis of the narra- tive is marked by a powerful simile from nature. (4) The fiercest scenes of war are brought into relief against profoundly touching pictures of domestic love and sorrow." { 72 THE ILIAD BOOK XXII 73 band. 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. Thus to their biihvarks, smit with panic 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 powVs, Far-stretchinof in the shade of Trojan tow'rs. Great Hector singly stayed ; chain'd down by fate. There fix\l he stood before the Sca?an gate, 10 Still his bold arms determined to emjiloy, The guardian still of long-defended Troy. Apollo now to tir'd Achilles turns (The power confessed in all liis 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, Unskiird 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 : 20 Safe in their Avails are now her troops bestow'd. While here thy frantic rage attacks a god." 1. See the Argument of Book xxi. What part of the verb is smit ? 3. What is meant by hriny drops f 6. Homer says *• setting shields to shoulders." Probably the mean- ing is that the Greeks held their shields over their heads as a pro- tection against missiles thrown from the walls. 5-8. What is the subject of this sentence ? 9. By fate; that is, not by his own will or fault. 13. See the Argument of Book xxi. 14. Confessed, disclosed, revealed. 20. Pi-esent. Supply the ellipsis. 22. Mark the imperfect rhyme. Find other examples in this book. 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." 30 Then to the city, terrible and strong. With high and haughty steps he tower'd aloug : So the proud courser, victor of the prize. To the near goal with double ardour flies. Him, as he blazing shot across the field. The careful eyes of Priam first beheld. Not half so dreadful rises to the sight, Through the thick gloom of some tempestuous night, Orion's dog (the year when autumn weighs). And o'er the feebler stars exerts his rays ; 40 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 wliite Avith age ; He lifts his wither'd arms ; obtests the skies ; He calls liis much-lov'd son Avith feeble cries. The sou, resolv'd Achilles' force to dare. Full at the Scaean gates expects the Avar, 28. Homer is much more simple : *' because thou hadst no ven- geance to fear thereafter." 39. Orion's dog, Sirius, the brightest star in the constellation of the Dog, so called because it precedes in the sky the constellation Orion, named after a mighty hunter. Its fabled evil influence on the earth, referred to in the next three lines, gave to summer the name of "dog days.'* Weighs, presses to its close. Autumn is the grammatical subject. 42. Who is the sage f 45. Obtests, calls upon earnestly, entreats. 48. What is meant by tvar? 74 THE ILIAD BOOK XX Π 7^ While tlie sad father on the rampart stands, And thus adjures him with extended hands : 50 *' Ah stay not, stay not ! guardless and alone ; Hector, my lovM, 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 tlie gods no dearer than to me ! Thee vultures wild should scatter round the shore. And bloody dogs grow fiercer from thy gore ! How many valiant sons I late enjoyM, \^aliant in vain ! by thy curs'd arm destroy'd : 60 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 loved 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. Consigned his daughter with Lelegia's throne) ! But if (which heav'n forbid) already lost, 70 All pale they wander on the Stygian coast. What sorrows then must their sad mother know. What anguish I ! unutterable woe ! 53. Methinks, it seems to me, from the A. S. thyncan, M. Κ thinken^ to seem, appear. 03-65. Homer says : '*sons whom Tjaotlio6 bare me, a princess among women.'* This passage is adduced as evidence of the exist- ence of polygamy among the Trojans ; but see Jebb's statement in note on vi., 493. C9. His daughter, Ijaothotl, one of Priam's wives. 69. Lelegia, the land of the Leieges, a people supposed to live oa the coast of Asia Minor and the islands of the ^gean. 71. Stygian coast, the bank of the river Styx, one of the bounda- ries of the underworld inhabited by the spirits of the dead. See Gay ley, pp. 78-84 ; and Gladstone, Homer, pp. 54-56. f Yet less that anguish, less to her, to me. Less to all Troy, if not depriv'd of thee. Yet shun Achilles ! enter yet the wall ; And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all ! Siive thy dear life : or if a soul so brave Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save. Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs ; 80 Wliile yet thy father feels the woes he bears. Yet curs'd 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 r Tc 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. My bleeding infants dash'd against the floor,— 90 These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more ! Perhaps ev'n I, reserved by angry fate The last sad relic of my ruin'd state (Dire pomp of sovereign wretchedness), must fall And stain the pavement of my regal hall, AVhere 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 : W^ell have they perish'd, for in fight they fell. Who dies in youth in vigour, dies the best, 100 Struck through with wounds, all honest on the breast. But when the fates, in fullness 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 ; 76. Yet, still ; while there is yet time. 84. Placed, ordained ; appointed. What is the grammatical object of placed ? 104. An instance of Pope's turgid style, very unlike Homer. 76 THM ILIAD This, this is misery ! the last, the worst, ^ That man can feel, man, fated to be curs'd ! " He said, and acting what no words could say. Rent from his head tlie silver locks away. With him the mournful mother bears a part ; !!<> Yet all their sorrows turn not Hector's lieart : The zone unbraced, her bosom she displayed ; And thus, fast-falling the salt tears, she said : '* Have mercy on me, my son ! revere Tlie words of age ; attend a parent's pray'r ! If ever thee in these fond arms I press'd, Or stiird thy infant clamours at tliis breast. Ah ! do not thus our helpless years forego. But, by our walls secur'd, repel the foe. Against his rage if singly thou proceed, 120 Shouldst thou (but lieav'n avert it!) shouldst tliou bleed, Nor must thy corse lie honoured 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, \vhile 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, rollM up in his den, the swelling snake 130 Beholds the traveller approach the brake, 102-107. These lines are a wQidy paraphmso of the origiiml. See the prose translation, p. 436. 110. The moumftd mother, Hecuba. 112. Hecuba undid the brooch by which the peplos, or outer robe, was fastened over the right shoulder. See lutroduction, and vi., 113. 126. So they. Supply the ellipsis. 129. Expects, awaits. 130. RoWd up in his den. Coiled up in his hole. Is this picture true to nature ? BOOK XXII rr 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 : " AVhere lies my way ? to enter in the wall ? Honour and shame th' ungen'rous thought recall : Shall proud Polydamas before the gate 140 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 ? That Λvise advice rejected with disdain, I feel my folly in my people slain. Methinks my suffering country's voice I hear; But most her worthless sons insult my ear. On my rash courage charge the chance of Avar, And blame those virtues which they cannot share. No I Η I e'er return, return I must 150 Glorious, my country's terror laid in dust : Or if I perish, let her see my fall In field at least, and fighting for her wall. And yet suppose these measures I forego, Approach unarm'd, and parley with the foe. The warrior-shield, the helm, and lance lay down. And treat on terms of peace to save the town : The wife withheld, the treasure ill-detain'd (Cause of the war and grievance of the land), 132. An allusion to the belief, prevalent in ancient times, that snakes derived their poison by feeding on poisonous herbs. 13(3. Jieclin'd, leaning, resting. 137. Literally, "Then sore troubled he spake to his great heart." '• These audible thoughts," says Jebb, "are usually in the nature of comments on the main point of ihe situation, and are such as might Iiave been made by a sympathetic bystander ; they arc comparable to the utterances of the Chorus in Greek Tragedy." 140, 141. See Argument <>f Rook xviii. 158. The ivife withheld. Who? ι«ίίή..1>ίΜ!!ί<Βι!&.•>.•'^.ί<.....;-..ι^.^•.-.^-ί, .. .-^^ ».. -l• ■■■. w.. ■■,-,--.. ^^..., . ^ ... - 78 TEE JLIAD IGO With lionourable justice to restore ; And add half Ilion's yet remaining store, AVhich Troy sliall, sworn, produce ; that injur'd Greece May sliare our wealth, and leave our walls in peace. But why this thought ? Unarmed if I should go, AVhat hope of mercy from this vengeful foe, But woman-like to fall, and fall without a blow ? We greet not here as man conversing man, Met at an oak or journeying o'er a plain ; No season now for calm, famdiar talk, Like youths and maidens in an ev'ning walk : 170 AVar 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 splendours shone Like Jove's own lightning or the rising sun. As Hector sees, unusual terrors rise, Struck by some god, he fears, recedes, and flies. 180 He leaves the gates, he leaves the Avails behind ; Achilles follows like the winged wind. 167 Conversing. Generally followed by with. 138-172 Note that in this soliloquy Hector makes no reference to the appeals of his father and his mother. What was his reason for remaining to encounter Achilles ? What light does this throw on Hector's character ? • 173. Who was pondenng f What is the grammatical error ? 175 Why is the word better used instead of right f 180'. Hector's sudden flight at the approach of Achilles is one oE the most extraordinary incidents of the lUml. Says Mr. Andrew Lang • - In a saga or a chamon de geste. in an Arthurian romance, in a Border ballad, in whatever poem or tale answers in our North- ern literatu.-e, however feebly, to Homer, this flight round the walls of Troy would be an absolute impossibility. Lnder the eyes of his father, his mother, his countrymen, ilector fiies-the gallant Hector, 'a very i.erfect, gentle knight '-from the onset of a single foe" But Mr Lang adds, *' Homer's world. Homer s chivalry. BOOK XXII 79 Thus at the panting dove the falcon flies (The swiftest racer of the liquid skies). Just when he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey. Obliquely wheeling through th' aerial way, With open beak and shrilling cries he springs. And aims his claws, and shoots upon his wings : No less fore-right the rapid chase they held. One urg'd by fury, one by fear impelFd; 190 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), smoke along the road. Next by Scamander's double source they bound, Where two fam'd fountains burst the parted ground : Homer's ideas of knightly honor, were all unlike those of the Chris- tian and the Northern world." Professor Mahaify, on the other hand, regards this slur and other slurs on Hector's courage as changes wrought by alien hands in the original poem. " Why," he asks, "is he so important all through tiie plot of the poem ? Why is his death by Achilles made an achievement of the highest order ? Why are the chiefs who at one time challenge and worst him, at another quaking with fear at his approach ? Simply because in the original plan of the Iliad he ivas a great warrior, and because these perpetual defeats by Diomede and Ajax, this avoidance of Agamemnon, this swaggering and 'hectoring,' which we now find in him, were introduced by the enlargers and interpolators in order to enhance the merits of their favorites at his expense." 188. What is the meaning of shoots upon his ivings ? 189. Fore-right, straight ahead. 194. Synoke, raise a dust by their rapid motion. Dryden uses the word in the same sense: "Proud of his steeds, he smokes along the field." What is the grammatical subject of smoke ? 194. Road. The original shows that a wagon road, on which both kept, ran round the city at a little distance from the wall, 196. Fountains. These are the two springs to which allusion is made in the Introduction, p. xxii. It is now known that no springs answering to Homer's description exist in the plain of Scamander. The Scamander, however, actually takes its rise in two springs, one hot and one cold, on the western side of Ida. It is supposed that the 80 THE ILIAD This hot through scorching clefts is seen to rise. With exhalations steaming to the skies ; That the green banks in summer's heat overflows, Like crystal clear, and cold as winter snows. 200 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 pass'd, one chasing, one in flight (The mighty fled, pursued by stronger might) ; Swift was the course ; no vulgar prize tliey play, No vulgar victim must reward the day *' ' ' ■ (Such as in races crown the speedy strife) : The prize contended was great Hector's life. 210 As when some hero's fun'rals are decreed, In grateful honour of the mighty dead. Where high rewards the vigorous 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 Avail they fly ; The gazing gods lean forward from the sky : To whom, while eager on the chase they look. The sire of mortals and immortals spoke : 220 ** Unworthy sight ! the man belov'd of heav'n. Behold, inglorious round yon city driv'n I 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. From Ida's summits and the towers of Troy : , poet transferred in imagination a striking piece of scenery from the mountain to the plain ; or else that tlie springs which he describes have disappeared, 216. This line is one of Pope's inrentions to complete a couplet. There is nothing in the original to justify it. What is the mean- ing of rais'd f What is its syntax ? 220. The mre. Who is meant ? BOOK XXII 81 i^ow see him flying ! to his fears resign'd. And Fate and fierce Achilles close behind. Consult, ye pow'rs ('tis worthy your debate) AYhether to snatch him from impending fate, 280 Or let him bear, by stern Pelides slain (Good as he is), the lot impos'd on man ?" Then Pallas thus : '' Shall he whose vengeance forms The forky bolt, and blackens heav'n with storms, Shall he prolong one I'rojan's forfeit breath I A man, a mortal, pro-ordain'd to death! And will no murmurs fill the courts above ? JVo gods indignant blame their partial Jove ?" '' Go then" (return'd the sire), '' without delay ; Exert thy will : I give the fates their way."" 240 Swift at the mandate pleas'd Tritonia flies. And stoops impetuous from the cleaving skies. As through 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. Thus step by step, where'er the Trojan wheel'd. There swift Achilles compass'd round the field. 250 Oft as to reach the Dardan gates he bends, And hopes th^ assistance of his pitying friends (Whose show'ring arrows, as he coursM below, From the high turrets might oppress the foe), 228. Fate. Another interpolation by Pope. 238. Partial. This epithet is very unlike Homer. He simply says : " Do it, but not all we other gods approve.'' 241. Tritonia. The Greek form of the word is Tritogeneia, Trito-born, an epithet of Athena (Minerva or Pallas). The fii-st part of the word has been explained as born near Lake Tritonis, or head- born, or born on the third day ; but its meaning is really unknown. 247. Vapour. A wrong use of tiio word for scent. 247. Tainted. How were the dews tainted ? 250. Compaas'd round, followed in the circular track. a..»» ■ffl.ji• OM.-.afr,.,Mi,i aiMr'itffc^j''^'*- --^-■iJ'-'^-i-^..-*-» .,>ιγ,αμ«. ...^a.^BlaaaMiai 82 THE ILIAD So oft Achilles turns him to the phiin : He eyes the city, but he eyes in vain. As men in slumbers seem with speedy pace One to pursue and one to lead the cliase, Their sinking limbs the fancied course forsake. Nor this can fly, nor that can overtake : 260 No less tlie lab'ring heroes pant and strain, While that but flies, and this pursues, in vain. What god, Muse ! assisted Hector's force. With fate itself so long to hold the course ? Plioibus it was : who, in his latest hour, Endued 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, Signed to the troops to yield his foe the way. And leave untouch'd the honours of the day. 270 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 witii death it sinks, and hell receives the weight. Then Phoebus left him. Fierce Minerva flies To stern Pel ides, and, triumphing, cries : *' Ο lov'd of Jove ! this day our labours cease, And conquest blazes with full beams on Greece. 280 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 grxl of light. See, where in vain he supplicates above, Koird at the feet of unrelenting tiove ! Rest here : myself will lead the Trojan on. And urge to meet the fate he cannot shun.'* 257. This is the only simile iu Homer taken from a dream. 270. The meaning is tliat Hector was condemned to Hades. 285. He. Who? BOOK XXJI 83 Her voice divine the chief with joyful mind Obey'd, and rested, on his lance reclin'd, 290 While like Deiphobus the martial dame (Her face, her gesture, and her arms the same). In sliow an aid, by hapless Hector's side Approach'd, and greets him thus with voice belied : ''Too long, Hector ! have I borne the sight Of this distress, and sorrowed in thy flight: It fits us now a noble stand to make. And here, as brothers, equal fates partake." Then he: 'Ό prince ! allied in blood and fame, Dearer than all that own a brother's name; 300 Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore, Long tried, 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, press'd me to forbear: 291. Minerva assumes the appearance of Deiphobus, Hector's favorite brother, tlie son of Priam and Hecuba. 293. Shoiv, appearance. 294. To a modern reader the treacherous aid of Athena to Achilles, and the deception she practises on Hector, apjjear absolutely revolt- ing. IMr. Lang says: "It is remarkable tliat when the true poet had to pit against each other a courteous and patriotic warrior like Hector and a young hero who, like Achilles, is really fighting only for his own hand and his private passion, he should have made Hec- tor check our sympathy by his flight, and Achilles even more unsympathetic by the treacherous aid of Athene than by his own relentless and savage revenge." To a Greek audience, Mr. Leaf thinks, " the presence of the gods on Achilles' side was not so much a mere extraneous aid as a tangible sign that Achilles was, after all, fighting the great fight of Hellenism against barbarism; it is a reminder that the action on earth is but a reflexion of the will of heaven, and exalts rather than belittles those to whom the help is given." " It is a cardinal rule with Homer," says Mr. Gladstone, " that no considerable Greek chieftain is ever slain in fair fight by a Trojan." Belied, feigned. »ί»ι>,Λι^ίτ.ι&ρ.ίι... J».M>.««> .. -^»..J.»g.i^-J..}-... '-^ .-.--h^j-tfin. A-^-i ii..^jl,.^'.,iji»>.it-.A.Jtajn.«-«lttilfl-. irtltHilli'llMllMI 84 THE Τ LI AD BOOK XXTI 85 My friends eiiibracM my knees, adjur'd my stay. But stronger love impelFd, smd 1 obey. Come then, the glorious conflict let us try, Lot the steel sparkle and the jav'lin fly; 310 Or let us stretch Achilles on the field, Or to liis 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: *'Enough, son of PeleusI Troy hasviewVl Her walls thrice circled, and her chief pursu'd. But now some god within me bids mo trj Thine or my fate: I kill thee or I die. 320 Yet on the verge of battle let us stay, And for a moment's space suspend the day: Let heav'n's high powers be call'd to arbitrate The just conditions of this stern debate. (Eternal witnesses of all below. And faithful guardians of the treasured vow I) 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; Stripp\l of its arms alone (the conqu'ror's due), 330 The rest to Greece nninjur'd Γίΐ 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 lasting rancour and eternal hate: 340 No thought but rage and never-ceasing strife, Till death extinguish rage, and thought, and life. 314. Dardaiius was the mythical ancestor υί the Trojans, Rouse 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 deprived of breath, Now hovers round, and calls thee to thy death." He spoke, and launched his jav'lin at the foe ; But Hector shunn'd the meditated blow ; 350 He stoop'd, while o'er his head the flying spear Sung innocent, aiul spent its force in air. JVlinerva watch'd it falling on the land, Then drew, and gave to great Achilles' hand. Unseen of Hector, who, elate Avith joy. Now shakes his lance, and braves the dread of Troy. ** The life you boasted to that jav'lin giv'n, Prince! you have miss'd. My fate depends on heav'n. To thee (presumptuous as thou art) unknown Or what must prove my fortune or thy own. 360 348. In Book xviii., Thetis, Achilles' mother, had told him that straightway after Hector's death was death appointed unto him. In Book xix., his horse Xanthus, gifted for the moment witli human speech and the power of prophecy, had foretold that his master's death- day was nigh at hand. Mr. John Addington Symonds thinks that the knowledge of his own aporoaching end is the key to the terrible ferocity displayed by the Greek chieftain. "Stung as he is," says Mr. Symonds, "by remorse and by the sorrow for Patroclus, which does not unnerve him, but rather kindles his whole spirit to a flame, we are prepared to see him fierce even to cruelty. But when wc know that in the midst of the carnage ho is himself moving r. dying man, when we remember that he is sending his slain foes like mes- sengers before his face to Hades, when we keep tlie warning words of Thetis and Xanthus in our luimls, then the grim frenzy of Achilles becomes dignified. The world is in a manner over for him, and he appears the incarnation of disdainful anger and re- vengeful love, the conscious scourge of God and instrument of destiny." 352. Sung, gave out a wliistling sound as it passed thrqugh the air. 360. Or. What would be the prose form ? if Ιί 80 'νΤΤψ* ΎΤ Τ ΑΤ\ ) i \} 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; 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 I Tlie weapon flew, its course unerring held; Unerring, but the heavenly shield repelFd The mortal dart; resulting with a bound From of! the ringing orb, it struck the ground. Hector beheld liis jav'Iin fall in vain, Nor other lance nor other hope remain; He calls Dc'ipUobus, demands a spear. In vain, for no De'iphobus was there. All comfortless he stands: then Avith a sigh : '^'Tis so — heaven wills it, and my hour is nigh! I deem'd Dei'phobus had lieard my call. But he secure lies guarded in the wall. A god deceived me; Pallas, ^twas thy deed. Death and black fate approach! 'Tis I must bleed. Xo refuge now, no succour from above, Great Jove deserts mc and the son of Jove, Propitious once and kind I Then welcome fate ! Tis true I perish, yet I perish great: Yet in a mighty deed I shall expire. Let future ages hear it, and admire ! " 303, What is the grammatical object of know ? 371. Resulting, leaping back. 384. Who is the son of Jove 9 388. Mr. Gladstone's summing up of Hector's character is as fol- lows : 'His courage is far from perfect, and there are in him veins both of vainglory and of rashness. But lie is pious towards the gods, aiTeetionate ami beloved in his domestic relations, a laborious and unselfish patriot, laden perhaps with more responsibility than he well can bear. At the latest moment, driven to bay, he recovers a perfect manhood, and dies the hero's death." 380 87 390 400 BOOK XXII Fierce, at the word, his weighty sword he drew, And, all collected, on Achilles flew. So Jove's bold bird, high-balanc'd in the air, vStoops from the clouds to truss the quiv'ring hare. Kor less Achilles his fierce soul prepares ; Before his breast the flaming shield he bears. Refulgent orb ! Above his fourfold 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 Tlesper 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 Gave entrance : through that penetrable part Furious he drove the well-directed dart : Nor pierc'd the windpipe j^et, nor took the pow'r Of speech, unhappy ! from thy dying hour. Prone on the field the blee Deform'd, dishonour'd, in his native land ! Giv'n to the rage of an insulting throng ! And, in his parents^ sight, now dragg'd along ! 510 Tiie mother first beheld with sad survev; 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 overflow. And the whole city wears one face of woe : 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, 520 And the last blaze send Hion to the skies. The wretched monarch of the falling state. Distracted, presses to the Dardan gate. Scarce the whole people stop his despVate 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 rolPd in dust, and thus begun. Imploring all, and naming one by one : ''Ah ! let me, let me go where sorrow calls ; 530 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 grief 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 his pest of me and all my race). How many valiant sons, in early bloom, 540 Has that curs'd hand seut headlong to the tomb ! 525. Gives the feeble force, gives strength to one who is feeble. 538. What is the grammatical error ? I 1 THE ILIAD Thee, Hector I last : tliy loss (diviiiel}^ brave !) ►Sinks my sad soul with sorrow to the grave. Oil had thy gentle spirit pass'd 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 sliowV I 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, Γ».">0 And all the eyes of II ion streamed arouiul. Amidst her matrons Hecuba appears (A mourning princess, and a train in tear^): ** Ah ! why has heaven prolong'd this hated breath, Patient of horrors, to behold thy death? Hector ! late thy parents' pride and joy, The boast of nations ! the defence of Troy ! To whom lier safety and her fame slie ow'd. Her chief, lier hero, and almost her god ! fatal change ! become in one sad day 560 A senseless corpse ! inani mated clay ! " But not as yet the fatal news had sj)read To fair Andromache, of Hector dead ; As yet no messenger had told his fate, Nor ev'n his stay without the Sci«an gate. Far in the close recesses of the dome Pensive she plied the melancholy loom ; A growing work employ'd her secret hours, Confus'dly gay with intermingled flow'rs. Her fair-hair'd handmaids heat the brazen urn, 570 The bath preparing for her lord's return : In vain ; alas ! her lord returns no more I Unbath'd he lies, and bleeds along the shore ! 547. JILc'd (he fender shower is a good example of Pope's artificial style. Translate it into plain Eni^lish. 567. There is notliinii in the original to indicate that Andromache was "pensive," or that her task was a " melancholy " one, up to the moment when her ear catches the sounds of grief from the walls. ».;^^^jfei*»i• . BOOK XXII 93 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 I " (she cried) *^ what plaintive noise Invades my ear ? 'Tis sure my mother's voice. My faltering knees their trembling frame desert, 580 A pulse unusual flutters at my heart. Some strange disaster, some reverse of fate (Ye gods avert it !) threats the Trojan state. 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, δ90 Now quenclr'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 through the dome (the maids her step pursue), And mounts the walls, and sends around her view. Too soon her eyes the killing object found, The god-like Hector di-agg'd along the ground. A sudden darkness shades her swimming eyes: She faints, she falls; her breath, her colour flies. Her hair's fair ornaments, the braids that bound, 600 The net that held them, and the wreath that crown'd, Tlie 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 Avith assistant hands. 584. Omen. The word is used here in the sense of foreboding, presage of evil. Omen usually refers to something outside the mind, not, as in this case, to the thought itself. 601. Pope is not at all literal here. See Introduction, p. xxv., for an account of the Homeric woman's headdress. il "Γ 94 THE ILIAD BOOK XXII 95 Scarce from tlie verge of death recall'd, again She faints, or but recovers to complain : 'Ό wretched husband of a wretched wife ! Born with one fate, to one unhappy life ! For sure one star its baneful beam disphiy'd GlU On Priam's roof and Ilippophicia's sliade. From diSVent parents, ditf'rent climes, we came. At diif'rent periods, yet our fate the same ! AVliy Λvas my birth to great Eetiou ow'd, And Avhy was all that tender care bestow'd ? Would I had never been I — thou, the ghost Of my dead husband ! miserably lost ! Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone ! And I abandoned, desolate, alone ! An only child, once comfort of my pains, 620 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 expelFd, Some stranger plows his patrimonial field. The day that to the shades the father sends, Eobs the sad orphan of his father's friends : lie, Avretched outcast of mankiiul ! appears 6:50 For ever sad, for ever bath'd in tears ; Amongst the happy, unregarded he Hangs on the robe or trembles at the knee ; 608-661. Cornimrc Andromache's lament with lier speech in the sixth book, lines 510-550. 609,610. Homer says .simply : "To one fate were we lioth born." Pope borrows the language of astrology to express this idea. 611. Ilippoplacia. See note on vi., 539. 024-653. The lines in the original are now generally regarded as an interpolation, on the ground that it is "a eommon-plaee on the sorrows of orphanage." Mr. Lang replies: "Perhaps we do not know enough of Homeric society to feel certain on this point." I Wiiile those his father's former bounty fed Nor reach the goblet nor divide the bread: Tlie 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, Siiall cry, ^ Begone ! thy father feasts not here : ' 640 The wretch obeys, retiring with a tear. Thus wretclied, 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, 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 I what must he not? Whom Ilion calls 650 Astyanax, from her well-guarded walls, Is now that name no more, unhappy boy I Since now no more the father guards his Troy. But thou, my Hector ! li'st expos'd in air. Far from thy parents' and thy consort's care. Whose hand in vain, directed by her love, The martial scarf and robe of triumph wove. Now to devouring flames be these a prey, Useless to thee, from this accursed day I Yet let the sacrifice at least be paid, 660 And honour to the living, not the dead !'' So spake the mournful dame: her matrons hear, Sigh back her sighs, and answer tear with tear. 640. The idea seems to be that a child who has lost his father ij no longer favored by the gods, and may be insulted with impunity. 651. See Book vi., line 467. 661. The burning of Hector's garments will be a consolation to the living. It can be of no service to him, since they cannot be burned on his pyre, and consequently cannot accompany him to Hades. 96 THE ILIAD BOOK ΧΧΙΙΓ. FUNERAL GAMES IN HONOUR OP PATROCLUS. Achilles and the ^Myrmidons do honours to the body of Patroclus. After the funeral feast he retires to the sea-shore, where, falling asleep, the ghost of his friend appears to hira, and demands the rites of burial : the next morning the soldiers are sent with mules and waggons to fetch wood for the pyre. The funeral procession, and the offering their hair to the dead. Achilles sacrifices several ani- mals, and lastly, twelve Trojan captives, at the pile; then sets fire to it. He pays libations to the winds, which (at the instance of Iris) rise, and raise the flame. When the pile has burned all night, they gather the bones, place them in an urn of gold, and raise the tomb. Achilles institutes the funeral games: the chariot-race, the fight of the ca?stus, the wrestling, the foot-race, the single combat, the discus, the shooting with arrows, the darting the javelin: the various descriptions of which, and the various success of the several antago- nists, make the greatest part of the book. In this book ends the thirtieth day: the night following, the ghost of Patroclus appears to Achilles : the one-and-thirtieth day is employed in felling the timber for the pile; the two-and-thirtieth in burning it; and the three-and-thirtieth in the games. The scene is generally on the sea-shore. BOOK XXIV.* THE REDEMPTION OP THE BODY OF HECTOR. The gods deliberate about the redemption of Hector's body. Jupiter sends Thetis to Achilles to disjwse him fot the restoring it, and Iris to Priam, to encourage him to go in person and treat for it. The old king, notwithstanding the remonstrances of his queen, * Book xxiii. describes the funeral of Patroclus and the funeral games instituted by Achilles. Book xxiv. presents a new phase of the Greek chieftain's character. "It is not enough," says Mr, Syraonds, "to show us Achilles serene in the accomplishment of his last service to Patroclus. As the crowning scene in the whole Iliad, Homer has contrived to make us feel that, after all, xVchilles is a man. The wrathful and revengeful hero, who bearded Agamemnon on his throne, and who slew the unarmed supplicant Lycaon, relents BOOK XXIV 97 makes ready for the journey, to whieli he is encouraged by an omen from Jupiter. He sets forth in his chariot, with a waggon loaded with presents, under tiie charge of IdaMis the herald. Mercury de- scends in the shape of a young man, and conducts him to the pavilion of Achilles. Their conversation on the way. Priam finds Achilles at his table,' casts himself at Ins feet, and begs for the body of his son: Achilles', moved with compassion, grants his request, detains him one niglit in his tent, and the next morning sends him home with the body : the Trojans run out to meet him. The lamentation of Androm- ache, Hecuba, and Helen, with the solemnities of the funeral. The time of twelve days is employed in this book, while the body of Hector lies in the tent of Achilles. And a^ many more are spent in the truce allowed for his interment. The scene is partly in Achilles' cj^mp, and partly in Troy. Now from the finish'd games the Grecian band Seek their black ships, and clear the crowded strand : All stretch'd at ease the genial banquet share, And pleasing slumbers quiet all their care. Not SO Achilles : he, to grief resign'd, His friend^s dear image present to his mind, Takes his sad couch, more unobserv'd to weep, Nor tastes the gifts of all -composing sleep, Kestless he roll'd around his weary bed, And all his soul on his Patroclus fed : 10 The form so pleasing and the heart so kind, That youthful vigour and that manly mind, in pity at a father's prayer. Priam, in the tent of Achilles, presents one of the most touching pictures to be found in poetry. We know the leonine fierceness of xVchilles ; we know how he has cherished the thought of insult to dead Hector as a final tribute to his friend ; even now he is brooding in his lair over the Trojan corpse. Into this lion's den the old king ventures. Instead of springing on him, as we might have feared, Achilles is found sublime in generosity of soul. Begging Patroclus to forgive him for robbing his ghost of this last satisfaction, he relinquishes to Priam the l)ody of his son. Yet herein there is nothing sentimental. Achilles is still the same — swift to anger and haughty, but human withal, and tender-hearted to the tears of an enemy at his mercy." 1. See the Argument of Book xxiii. 7 98 THE ILIAD What toils they shar'd, what martial works they wrought, What seas they measur'd and what fields they fought ;— All pass'd before him in remembrance dear : Thought follows thought, and tear succeeds to tear. And novv^ supine, now prone, the hero lay ; Now shifts his side, impatient for the day ; Then starting up, disconsolate he goes Wide on the lonely beach to vent his woes. . 20 There as the solitary mourner raves, The ruddy morning rises o'er the waves : Soon as it rose, his furious steeds he joinM ; The chariot flies, and Hector trails behind. And thrice, Patroclus ! round thy monument Was Hector dragged, then hurried to the tent. Tliere sleep at last overcomes the hero's eyes ; AYhile foul in dust th' nnhonour'd carcass lies. But not deserted by the pitying skies. For Phoebus watclrd it Avith superior care ; 30 Preserv'd from gaping wounds and tainting air ; And, ignominious as it swept the field. Spread o'er the sacred corse his golden shield. All heav'n was mov'd, and Hermes will'd to go By stealth to snatch him from th' insulting foe : But Neptune tliis and Pallas this denies. And th' unrelenting empress of the skies : 20. Wide. Tlie idea is that xVchilles wanders aimlessly. 25. The monument^ as described in Book xxiii., was a mound of earth erected on the spot where tiio funeral pyre had blazed. The bones of Patroclus were placed in a golden urn in the tent of Achilles. 00. Superior care, care of one greater than a niortal. ']n. Golden shield. The literal translation is goldeji eegis. This expression has caused great perplexity to commentators. It is pointed out that the legia was entrusted l)y Jove to ^Minerva and not to Apollo. 34. Hermes wilVd to go. What is the subject of wiWd 9 This is the first allusion in Homer to I he thieyish character afterwards attributed to Hermes (Mercury). 37. Juno (Hera). 40 50 BOOK XXI V 99 E'er since that day implacable to Troy, What time young Paris, simple shepherd boy, AVon by destructive lust (reward obscene), Their charms rejected for the Cyprian queen. But when the tenth celestial morning broke. To heav'n assembled, thus Apollo spoke : ^' Unpitying pow'rs ! how oft each holy fane Has Hector ting'd with blood of victims slain ? And can ye still his cold remains pursue ? Still grndge his body to the Trojans' view ? Deny to consort, mother, son, and sire, The last sad honours of a f un'ral fire ? Is then the dire Achilles all your care ? That iron heart, inflexibly severe ; A lion, not a man, who slaughters wide In strength of rage and impotence of pride ? Who hastes to murder with a savage joy ; Invades around, and breathes but to destroy ? Shame is not of his soul ; nor understood The greatest evil and the greatest good. Still for one loss he rages unresign'd, Eepugnant to the lot of all mankind ; 38. What is the syntax of implacable ? 38-41. The only allusion in the Iliad to the story of the apple of discord, the contest of beauty between Juno, Minerva, and Venus, and the judgment of Paris, which led to liis carrying off Helen, tlie wife of Menelaus. See Gayley, p. 285. Compare Tennyson's (Enone. 44-69. State Apollo's argument in your own words. 52-55. Compare the prose translation for the rendering of this simile. 56, 57. Cowper explains the passage thus: shame is "a man's blessing or his curse : his blessing, if he is properly influenced by it ; his curse in its consequences, if he is deaf to its dictates." Mr. Leaf thus explains the two meanings of the Greek word translated shame : "The Greek word expresses on the one hand the respect for the opinion of men which we call sense of honor ; on the other it can stand for the wrong shame or Avant of proper boldness, such as pre- vents a man from properly doing his work in the world." C8. What is liic loss V /, / 100 TEE ILIAD 60 70 To lose a friend, a brother, or a son, Heav'n dooms each mortal, and its will is done : Awhile they sorrow, then dismiss their care ; Fate gives the wound, and man is born to bear. But this insatiate the commission giv'n By fate exceeds ; and tempts the wrath of heav'n : Lo liow his rage dishonest drags along Hector's dead earth, insensible of wrong I Brave though he be, yet by no reason aw'd, He violates the laws of man and God." '' li equal honours by the partial skies Are doom'd both heroes " (Juno thus replies) ; " If Thetis' son must no distinction know. Then hear, ye gods ! the patron of the bow. But Hector only boasts a mortal claim. His birth deriving from a mortal dame : Achilles, of your own etliereal race, Springs from a goddess by a man's embrace (A goddess by ourself to Peleus giv'n, A man divine, and chosen friend of heav'n) : To grace those nuptials, froin the bright abode Yourselves were present ; where this minstrel-god (Well-pleas'd to share tlie feast) amid the quire Stood proud to hymn, and tune his youthful lyre.*' Then thus the Thund'rer checks th' imperial dame : *' Let not thy wrath the court of heav'n inflame ; Their merits nor their honours are the same. 63. Fate. See IntrotUiction, p. xxiv. 70-83. State Juno's argument in your own words. 74. Notice the wrong position of only. 76. Ethereal means literally high in aii•, lioiue heavenly, belong- ing to heaven. 83. The Λ'erb l•ymn is used transitively, meaning to celebrate in song, and intransitively, as here, to sing hymns. Milton uses the word in the same sense : *' And touch'd their golden harps, and hymniiig praised God and His works." P. Zr., vii., 258. 80 BOOK XXIV But mine and ev'ry god's peculiar grace Hector deserves, of all the Trojan race : Still on our shrines his grateful oflf'rings lay (The only honours men to gods can pay) : Nor ever from our smoking altar ceas'd The pure libation and the lioly feast. llowe'er, by stealth to snatch the corse away AVe will not : Thetis guards it night and day. But haste, and summon to our courts above The azure queen ; let her persuasion move Her furious son from Priam to receive The proffer'd ransom, and the corse to leave. He added not : and Iris from the skies Swift as a whirlwind on the message flies ; Meteorous the face of ocean sweeps, Kefulgent gliding o'er the sable deeps. 101 90 100 87. Grace, favor, good will. 9G. The azure queen, Thetis. 98. Leave. The meaning of the original is " give back, re- store." 99. Iris, goddess of the rainbow, the messenger of Jupiter, and occasionally of Juno, his wife. Mercury (Hermes), on the otlier hand, is the messenger of the whole Olympian court. Mr. Gladstone writes tlius of Iris : "Altliough she is but a sketch, she is one of those sketches in which the touch of the incomparable master is as clearly seen as in any work of the most complete development. Only the hand that drew Nausicaa (in the Odijsseij) on earth, could have drawn Iris in the skies. She seems lighter than the air itself upon her golden wings, and the poet always employs the full resources of pure dactylic verse to signify tlie elastic bound with which she starts upon her missions. But with all her lightness, she plunges 'like lead' (see lines 107, 108) through the waters of the deep, because her swift- ness is more essential to her even than her lightness. In full keeping with these, so to speak, physical qualities, is her ready, nimble mind, her incessant labor for some purpose of good, not of ill, and the total absence of every dark, or gross, or malicious feature from the really sweet delineation ; although, when Zeus has inti- mated that he rather wishes his inhibition to Pallas to be rough, she, as his faithful organ, shows that she too keeps a tongue in her head." 103 THE ILIAD Between where Samos wide his forests spreads. And rocky Imbriis lifts its pointed heads, Down plung'd the maid (the parted waves resound) ; Slie phmg'd, and instant shot the dark profound. As, bearing death in the fallacious bait. From the bent angle sinks the leaden weight ; So pass'd the goddess through the closing wave Wliere Thetis sorrowed in her secret cave : 110 There plac'd amidst her melancholy train (The blue-hair'd sisters of the sacred nuiin). Pensive she sate, revolving fates to come. And Avept her godlike son's approaching doom. Then thus the goddess of the painted bow : *^ Arise, Thetis ! from thy seats below ; ''Tis Jove that calls." *'And why" (the dame replies) *' Calls Jove his Thetis to the hated skies ? Sad object as I am for heav'nly sight ! All ! may my sorrows ever shun the light ! VK) Howe'er, be lieav'n's almighty sire obeyM." She spake, and veil'd her head in sable shade, AVhich, flowing long, her graceful person clad ; And forth she pac'd majestically sad. 103. The island mentioned in the original is Samothrace, not Sanios. Locate on map Samothrace, Imbros, and Samos, 107. What is the syntax of bearing ? Point out the tautology in this line. 108. Pope has failed to translate this simile correctly. Literally : " And she sped to the bottom like a weight of lead that, mounted on horn of a fiel-'j.<'&..ii^ia,^afcaif .,ιΜΙΛίιίι'ί&αιΛίΜίι^•&ιΙίινα iMBSi..i»**.i>i!u8an> '■A^l^i.Alfe.jilteg ..11 118 THE ILIAD Those direful liands his kisses press'd, imbruM Ev η with the best, the dearest of his blood ! As when a wretch (wiio, conscious of his crime, 590 Pursu'd for murder, flies his native clime) Just gains some frontier, breathless, pak^ anuizM : All gaze, all wonder : thus Achilles gaz'd : Thus stood th' attendants stupid with surprise ; All mute, yet Beem'd to question with their eyes : Each look\l on other, none the silence broke. Till thus at last the kingly suppliant spoke : *' Ah think, thou favoured of the povv'rs divine ! Think of thy father's age, and pity mine ! In me, that father's rev'rend inuige trace, COO Those silver hairs, that venerable face ; His trembling limbs, his helpless person, see I In all my equal but in misery ! Yet now, perhaps, some turn of human fate Expels him helpless from his peaceful state ; Think, from some powerful foe thou see'st him fly. And beg protection with a feeble cry. Yet still one comfort in his soul may rise ; He hears his son still lives to glad his eyes ; And, hearing, still may hope a better day GIO May send liim thee to cliase that foe away. 590-594. What are the points of comparison ? 598-633. Coleridge remarks on this passage: "The whole scene between Achilles and Priam, when the latter comes to the Greek camp for the purpose of redeeming the body of Hector, is at once the most profoundly skilful, and yet the simplest and most affecting passage in the Iliad. . . . Observe the exquisite taste of Priam in occupying the mind of Achilles, from the outset, with the image of his father ; in gradually introducing the parallel of his own situa- tion ; and, lastly, mentioning Hector's name when he perceives that the hero is softened, and then only in such a manner as to flatter the pride of the conqueror. . . . The whole passage defies transla- tion, for there is that about the Greek which has no name, but wliich is of so fine and ethereal a subtlety that it can only be felt in the original, and is lost in an attempt to transfuse it into another lan- guage." BOOK XXIV 119 No comfort to my griefs, no hopes remain : The best, the bravest of my sons are slain ! Yet what a race I ere Greece to Ilion came. The pledge of many a lov'd and loving dame ! Nineteen one mother bore — dead, all are dead ! How oft, alas, has wretched Priam bled I Still one was left, their loss to recompense ; His father's hope, his country's last defence. Him too thy rage has slain ! beneath thy steel, 620 Unhappy, in his country's cause he fell ! For him through hostile camps I bent my way ; For him thus prostrate at thy feet I lay ; Large gifts, proportioned to thy wrath, I bear : Oh, hear the wretched, and the gods revere ! Think of thy father and this face behold ! See him in me, as helpless and as old ; Though not so wretched : there he yields to me. The first of men in sovereign misery : Thus forc'd to kneel, thus grov'ling to embrace 630 The scourge and ruin of my realm and race ; Suppliant my children's murd'rer to implore. And kiss those hands yet reeking with their gore I'' These words soft pity in the chief inspire, Touch'd with the dear remembrance of his sire. Then with his hand (as prostrate still he lay) The old man's cheek he gently turn'd away. Now each by turns indulg'd the gush of woe ; And now tlie mingled tides together flow : This low on earth, that gently bending o'er, 640 A father one, and one a son, deplore : 612. What is the syntax of comfort ? 626-633. Compare Po[)e's verse with the prose translation : "Yea, fear thee the gods, Achilles, and have compassion on me, even me, bethinking thee of thy father. Lo, 1 am yet more piteous than he, and have braved what none other man on earth hath braved before, to stretch forth my hand toward the face of the slayer of my sons." 637. What was Achilles' object in this movement ? 641. What is the syntax of father ? Λ 120 THE ILIAD But great Achilles diff'rent passions rend, And now his sire he mourns, and now his friend. Th' infectious softness through the heroes ran ; One universal solemn sliow'r began ; They bore as heroes, but they felt as man. Satiate at length with unavailing woes. From the high throne divine Achilles rose : Τ lie rev'rend monarch by the hand he rais'd ; On his wliite beard and form majestic gaz'd, 650 Not unrelenting : then serene began With words to soothe the miserable man : *' Alas ! what weight of anguish hast thou known. Unhappy prince ! thus guardless and alone To pass through foes, and thus undaunted face The man whose fury has destroyed thy race ! Heav'n sure has arm'd thee Avith a heart of steel, A strength proportioned to the woes you feel. Eise then : let reason mitigate our care : To mourn avails not : man is born to bear. 6G0 Such is, alas ! the gods' severe decree ; They, only they are blest and only free. Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood. The source of evil one, and one of good ; From thence the cup of mortal man he fills. Blessings to these, to those distributes ills ; To most he mingles both : the wretch decreed To taste the bad, unmix'd, is cursM indeed ; Fursu'd by wrongs, by meagre famine driv'n. He wanders, outcast both of earth and heav'n. 070 C45. There is notliing in the originiil to justify tliis line, which seems full of bathos. 648. The throne is one of Pope's usek-sa ciiibcllishmeuts. The word in the original means seat. 060. Compare Burns's '* Man was juuuu to mourn." 009. The word translated famine may also be translated gadfly, typefying frenzy or rage. BOOK XXIV 121 The happiest taste not happiness sincere. But find tlie cordial draught is dash'd with care. λνΐιο more than Peleus shone in wealth and pow'r ? AVhat stars concurring bless'd his natal hour ! A realm, a goddess, to his wishes giv'n, Grac'd by the gods with all the gifts of heav'n ! One evil yet o'ertakes his latest day ; No race succeeding to imperial sway : An only son ! and he (ahis !) ordain'd To fall untimely in a foreign land ! 680 See him in Troy the pious care decline Of his weak age, to live the curse of thine ! Thou too, old man, hast happier days beheld ; In riches once, in children once excell'd ; Extended Plirygia own'd thy ample reign. And all fair Lesbos' blissful seats contain. And all wide Hellespont's unmeasur'd main. But since the god his hand has pleas'd to turn, And fill thy measure from his bitter urn. What sees the sun but hapless heroes' falls ? 690 War and the blood of men surround thy Avails ! What must be, must be. Bear thy lot, nor shed These unavailing sorrows o'er the dead ; Thou canst not call him from the Stygian shore. But thou, alas I mayst live to suifer more ! " To whom the king : '' favour'd of the skies ! Here let me grow to earth ! since Hector lies On the bare beach, depriv'd of obsequies. Oh give me Hector ! to my eyes restore His corse, and take the gifts ! I ask no more : 700 Thou, as thou mayst, these boundless stores enjoy ; Safe mayst thou sail, and turn thy wrath from Troy ; 671. Sincere, true, real. 680. See note, Book xxii., 449 et seq. 681, 682. To whom does him refer ? To whom, does his ? 085-687. Phrygia lay to the east of the Troad ; the Hellespont, to the north ; and tlie island of Lesbos, to the south. ^*ίίίΜ.!!Λ|«ί-•Α»..«ίί»Βίίΐ»ϊί»ί&^^ 122 TEE ILIAD 71U 720 So shall thy pity and forbearance give A weak old man to see the light and live ! " *' Move me no more " (Achilles thus replies, AVhile kindling anger sparkled in his eyes) ; '* Nor seek by tears my steady soul to bend ; To yield thy Hector I myself intend : For know, from Jove my goddess mother came (Old Ocean's daughter, silver-footed dame) ; Nor com'st thou but by heav'n, nor com'st alone ; Some god impels with courage not thy own : No human hand the weighty gates unbarr'd. Nor could the boldest of our youth have dar'd To pass our outworks, or elude the guard. Cease ; lest, neglectful of high Jove's command, I shew thee, king, thou tread'st on hostile land ! Eelease my knees, thy suppliant arts give o'er. And shake the purpose of my soul no more." The sire obey'd him, trembling and o'eraw'd. Achilles like a lion rush'd abroad ; Automedon and Alcimus attend, AVhom most he honour'd since lie lost his friend ; These to unyoke the mules and horses went. And led the hoary herald to the tent ; Next, heap'd on high, the num'rous presents bear (Great Hector's ransom) from the polish'd car. Two splendid mantles and a carpet spread They leave, to cover and enwrap the dead : Then call the handmaids, with assistant toil To wash the body, and anoint Λvith oil. Apart from Priam ; lest th' unhappy sire, Provok'd to passion, once more rouse to ire 705. Mr. Leaf says : '* This outburst on the part of Achilles shows the intense stru^ifgle through which he is passing. It is all he can do to control himself, and he feels that he will not be able to do so at Jill unless he is left to act in his own way, without being either hurried or doubted, as Priam's words would seem to imi)ly." 730 BOOK XXIV 123 The stern Pelides ; and nor sacred age Nor Jove's command should check the rising rage. This done, the garments o'er the corse they spread ; Achilles lifts it to the f un'ral bed : Then, while the body on the car they laid. He groans, and calls on lov'd Patroclus' shade : *'If, in that gloom which never light must know, 740 The deeds of mortals touch the ghosts below, friend ! forgive me that I thus fulfil (Restoring Hector) heav'n's unquestion'd will. The gifts the father gave be ever thine, To grace thy manes and adorn thy shrine." He said, and ent'ring took his seat of state, AVhere full before him rev'rend Priam sate : To whom, compos'd, the godlike chief begun : ^^ Lo ! to thy pray'r restor'd, thy breathless son ; Extended on the fun'ral couch he lies ; And soon as morning paints the eastern skies. The sight is granted to thy longing eyes. But now the peaceful hours of sacred night Demand refection, and to rest invite : Nor thou, father ! thus consumed with woe. The common cares that nourish life forego. 750 740-745. Achilles' prayer to Patroclus to pardon him for the ces- sion of Hector's body is the last touch needed to depict their won- drous friendship. Mr. Symonds points out " that fraternity in arms played for the Greek race the same part as the idealization of women for the knighthood of feudal Europe." Both mythology and history bear witness to the fact. "The fruit which friendship bore among the Greeks," continues Mr. Symonds, "was courage in the face of danger, indifference to life when honor was at stake, patriotic ardor, the love of liberty, and lion-hearted rivalry in battle." 745. 3Ia?ies. This is a Roman word meaning the spirits of the dead regarded as tutelary divinities of the household. Here it means simply the ghost or spirit of Patroclus. 748. Compos'd, restored to calmness. 756. Cares, duties ; occupations. *.asit&ifixiA.»...zJ»v^!uUl,/&■*- • 128 TEE ILIAD '' Έοψ dost tlioii sleep wlieii Hector is restored ? Nor fear the Grecian foes or Grecian lord ? Thy presence here should stern Atrides see. Thy still-surviving sons may sue for thee ; May offer all thy treasures yet contain To spare thy age ; and offer all in vain." Wak'd with the word, the trembling sire arose And rais'd his friend : the god before him goes : lie joins the mules, directs them with his hand, 860 And moves in silence through the hostile land. When now to Xanthus' yellow stream they drove (Xanthus, immortal progeny of Jove), The winged deity forsook tlieir view. And in a moment to Olympus flew. Kow shed Aurwa round her saffron ray. Sprung through the gates of light, and gave the day. Charg'd with their mournful load to Ilion go The sage and king, majestically slow. Cassandra first beholds from II ion's spire 870 The sad procession of her hoary sire ; Then, as the pensive pomp advanc'd more near (Her breathless brother stretch'd upon the bier), A showV of tears overflows her beauteous eyes. Alarming thus all Ilion with her cries : " Turn here your steps and here your eyes employ. Ye wretclied daughters and ye sons of Troy ! If e'er ye rush'd in crowds with vast delii(ht To hail your hero glorious from the fight. Now meet him dead, and let your sorrows flow I 880 Your common triumph and your common woe." In thronging crowds they issue to the plains, Nor man nor woman in the walls remains : 862. Xanthtis, another iiiiu*e for Scamiindcr. See Introduction, p. xxi. 870. Uassandra, daughter of Priam, gifted, la later legend, with the power of prophecy. BOOK XXIV 129 Li ev'ry face the self-same grief is shewn. And Troy sends forth one universal groan. At Sena's gates, they meet the mourning wain. Hang on the wheels, and grovel round the slain. The Avife and mother, frantic with despair. Kiss his pale cheek and rend their scatter'd hair : Thus wildly wailing, at the gates they lay ; 890 And there had sigh'd and sorrowed out the day ; But godlike Priam from the chariot rose : ^^ Forbear " (he cried) ^^ this violence of woes; First to the palace let tlie car proceed, Then pour your boundless sorrows o'er the dead." The waves of people at his word divide ; Slow rolls the chariot through the following tide ; Ev'n to the palace the sad pomp they waitt They weep, and place him on the bed of state. A melancholy choir attend around 900 With plaintive sighs and music's solemn sound : Alternately they sing, alternate flow Til' obedient tears, melodious in their woe ; AYhile deeper sorrows groaii from each full heart. And nature speaks at ev'ry pause of art. First to the corse the weeping consort flew ; Around his neck her milk-white arms she threw : And, '' my Hector I oh my lord ! " she cries ; ''Snatch'd in thy bloom from these desiring eyes ! 886. At Sma's gates. The SciPaii gate. See note on vi., 297. 888. The wife and mother. Andromache and Hecuba. 898. Pomp, funeral procession. Wait, attend. 906. Andromache appears but three times in the Iliad— in the partnig scene in the sixth book, in the twenty-second book when Hector is killed, and now when his bodv is brought home Xever- theless she is the type of the wife and mother, loving and beloved Ihrough her it is in great degree that men have come to admire Hector. " The affection of Hector for his wife," says Mr. Symonds *'no less distinguished than the passion of Achilles for his friend' has made tlie Trojan prince rather than his Greek rival the hero of modern romance." ' 130 THE ILIAD ΓΠ Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone ! 910 And I abandoned, desolate, alone ! An only son, once comfort of our pains, Sad product now of hapless love, remains ! Never to manly age that son shall rise. Or with increasing graces glad my eyes ; For Ilion now (her great defender shiin) Sliall sink, a smoking ruin, on the plain. Who now protects her wives with guardian care ? λ\Ίιο saves her infants from the rage of war ? ISOw hostile fleets must waft those infants o'er 920 (Those Avives must wait ^em) to a foreign shore ! Thou too, my son ! to barb'rous climes shalt go. The sad companion of thy mother's woe ; Driv'n hence a slave before the victor's sword, Condemn'd to toil for some inhuman lord : Or else some Greek, whose father pressed the plain, Or son, or brother, by great Hector slain, In Hector's blood his vengeance shall enjoy, And hurl thee headlong from the tow'rs of Troy. For thy stern father never spar'd a foe : 930 Thence all these tears, and all this scene of woe ! Thence, many evils his sad parents bore ; His parents many, but his consort more. Why gav'st tliou not to me thy dying hand ? And why receiv'd not I thy last command ? Some word thou wouldst have spoke, which sadly dear. My soul might keep, or utter with a tear ; Which never, never could be lost in air ; Fix'd in my heart, and oft repeated there ! " 92». A later legend says that this was actually the fate of Asty- anax. 930. In this line Pope has misinterpreted the original, whicli is translated : " For no light hand had thy father in the grievous fray." 934. Up to this point Andromache's lament follows the same lines as that in the twenty-second book. Note that the concluding words of her grief are for Hector himself. BOOK XXIV 131 Thus to her weeping maids she makes her moan ; 940 Her weeping handmaids echo groan for groan. The mournful mother next sustains her part : '*' thou, the best, the dearest to my heart ! Of all my race thou most by heav'n approv'd. And by th' immortals ev'n in death belov'd ! While all my other sons in barb'rous bands Achilles bound, and sold to foreign lands. This felt no chains, but went, a glorious ghost. Free and a hero, to the Stygian coast. Sentenc'd, 'tis true, by his inhuman doom, 950 Thy noble corse was dragg'd around the tomb (The tomb of him thy warlike arm had slain) ; Ungen'rous insult, impotent and vain ! Yet glow'st thou fresh with ev'ry living grace. No mark of pain or violence of face ; Eosy and fair ! as PhcBbus' silver bow Dismiss'd thee gently to the shades below." Thus spoke the dame, and melted into tears. Sad Helen next in pomp of grief appears : Fast from the shining sluices of her eyes 960 Fall the round crystal drops, while thus she cries : *^ Ah, dearest friend ! in whom the gods had join'd The mildest manners with the bravest mind ; 942. Mr. Leaf interprets Hecuba's speech in this wise : " Though Achilles has dealt witli thee so fur more harshly than with my other sons, yet the gods have turned this very thing to thine honor ; for they have kept thy body fresh, all outraged though it was." 956, 957. Apollo, it was supposed, brought sudden death to men. See note on i., 60. 962. There is no finer touch in the whole poem than the lament of Helen over the body of Hector. " It would have been impossible," says Mr. Symonds, " to enhance more wortliily than thus the spirit of courtesy and knightly kindness which was in Hector— qualities, in truth, wliich, together with his loyalty to Andromache, endeared the champion of the Trojans to chivalry, and placed Hector upon the list of worthies beside King Arthur and Godfrey of Bouillon." «iitnTi-iJaj-.-i>.>-J-.. >.JM-^.]^ll■a?a«.J^t.■.Λ»:J■Bl•l•«■ ^ga-'f .o..A.«aji nz THE ILIAD Kovv twice ten years (unliappy years) are o'er Since Paris brought me to the Trojan shore (Oh had I perish'd, ere that form divine Seduced this soft, this easy heart of mine I) ; Yet was it ne'er my fate from thee to find A deed ungentle or a word unkind : When otliers curs'd tlie auth'ress of their woe. Thy pity checked my sorrows in their flow : If some proud brother ey'd me with disdain, Or scornful sister with her sweeping train. Thy gentle accents soften'd all my pain. For thee I mourn ; and mourn myself in thee. The wretched source of all this misery ! The fate I caus'd for ever I bemoan ; Sad Helen has no friend now thou art gone ! Through Troy's wide streets abandon'd shall I roam, 970 }y 980 In Troy deserted, as abhorrVl at home ! So spoke the fair with sorrow-streaming eye ; Distressful beauty melts each stander-by ; On all around th' infectious sorrow grows ; But Priam check'd the torrent as it rose : '* Perform, ye Trojans ! what the rites require. And fell the forests for a f un'ral pyre ; Twelve days, nor foes nor secret ambush dread; Achilles grants these honours to the dead." 964. The twenty years that Helen says she lived in Troy is a dreadful stiirabling-bloek to coininentators. It is better to "give it up." 980. Coleridge says of Helen : "She is, tlirough the Iliad, a genu- ine lady, graceful in motion and speech, noble in her associations, full of remorse for a fault for which higher powers seem responsible, yet grateful and affectionate toward those with whom that fault had committed her." Of Helen Mr. Gladstone remarks : "With ' beauty such as never woman wore,' and with the infirmity of purpose which chequered her career, she unites not only grace and kindliness, but a deep humility, and a peculiar self-condemnation, wliich come nearer to the grace of Christian repentance than anything, in my knowledge, that has come down to us with the ancient leai-ning." ■ BOOK XXIV 133 He spoke ; and at his word the Trojan train Their mules and oxen harness to the wain, 990 Pour through the gates, and, fell'd from Ida's crown. Roll back the gath'red forests to the town. These toils continue nine succeeding days. And high in air a sylvan structure raise. But when the tenth fair morn began to shine. Forth to the pile was borne the man divine And plac'd aloft : while all, with streaming eyes. Beheld the flames and rolling smokes arise. Soon as Aurora, daughter of tlie dawn. With rosy lustre streak'd the dewy lawn, looo Again the mournful crowds surround the pyre. And quench with wine the yet-remaining fire. The snowy bones his friends and brothers place (With tears collected) in a golden vase ; The golden vase in purple palls they rolPd Of softest texture and inwrought with gold. Last, o'er the urn the sacred earth they spread. And rais'd the tomb, memorial of the dead (Strong guards and spies, till all the rites were done, Watch'd from the rising to the setting sun). 1010 All Troy then moves to Priam's court again, A solemn, silent, melancholy train : Assembled there, from pious toil they rest ; And sadly shar'd the last sepulchral feast. Such honours Ilion to her hero paid. And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade. 1015, lOlG. Tiie literal translation of the last line of the Hiad is tliis : " Thus held they funeral for Hector, tamer of horses." Cow- per, speaking of this simple ending, says : "It is like the exit of a great man out of company whom he has entertained magnificently ; neither pompous nor familiar ; not contemptuous, yet without much ceremony." ifiaaft,ai&Sffi.^BfeaiBfeilte*3i-l• ^^^Α^ίΐΑΐΒξίΜΐίίίΒ^'^-ίίίιΜΜΑ^-Α Jr-J^M^tW 3ί..:;ο^ι^ί»Μ8Α.^ Longmans' English Classics Books prescribed for 1897 Examinations, p. 2. Books prescribed for 1898 Examinations, p. 3. Books prescribed for 1899 Examinations, p. 5. Books prescribed for 1900 Examinations, p. 6. Other Volumes in the Series, - - p. 7. f I LONGMANS' ENGLISH CLASSICS EDITED MY GEORGE RICE CARPEN lER, A.B., Professor of Rhetoric and English Composition in Columbia College. 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The page is open and attractive, the chapters are short, the type is large and clear, the pictures are well chosen and significant, a surprising number of anecdotes told in a crisp and masterful manner throw valuable side- lights on the main narrative ; the philosophy of history is undeniably there, but sugar-coated, and the graceful style would do credit to a Macaulay. I shall immediately recommend it for use in our school." — Dr. D. O. S. Lowell. LAWRENCEVILLE SCHOOL. »'In answer to your note of February 23d I beg to say that we have intro- duced your Higginson's English History into our graduating class and are much pleased with it Therefore whatever endorsement I, as a member of the Committee of Ten. could give the book has already been given by my action in placing it in our classes."— James C. Mackenzie, Lawrenceville, N. J. ANN ARBOR HIGH SCHOOL. " It seems to me the book will do for English history in this country what the 'Young Folks' History of the United States' has done for the history of our own country— and I consider this high praise." — T. G. Pattengill, Ann Arbor, Mich. >» LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 Fi^h Avenue, New York. I s LONGMANS, GREEN, d^ CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. A STUDENT'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND, from the Earliest Times to 1885. By Samuel Rawson Gardiner, M.A., LL.D., Fellow of All Souls College, Oxford, etc.; Author of "The History of England from the Accession of James I. to 1642," etc. Illustrated under the superintend- ence of Mr. W. H. St. John Hope, Assistant Secretary of the Society of Antiquaries, and with the assistance in the choice of Portraits of Mr. George Scharf, C.B., F.S.A., who is recognized as the highest authority on the subject. In one Volume, with 378 Illustrations and full Index. Crown 8vo, cloth, plain, $3.00. The book is also published in three Volumes {each with Index and Table of Contents) as follows : VOLUME I. — B.C. 55-A.D. 1509. 410 pp. With 173 Illustrations and Index. Crown 8vo, $1.20. VOLUME II.— A.D. 1509-1689. 332 pp. With 96 Illustrations and Index. Crown 8vo, $1.20. VOLUME III.— A.D. 1689-1885. 374 pp. With 109 Illustrations and Index. Crown 8vo, $1.20. V Gardiner's "Student's History of England," througli Part IX. (to 1789), is recommended by HARVARD UNIVERSITY as indicating the requirements for admission in this subject ; and the ENTIRE work is made the basis for English history study in the University. YALE UNIVERSITY. " Gardiner's ' Student's History of England ' seems to me an admirable short history.'' — Prof. C. H. Smith, New Haven, Conn. TRINITY COLLEGE, HARTFORD. '*It is, in my opinion, by far the best advanced school history of England that I have ever seen. It is clear, concise, and scientific, and, at the same time, attractive and interesting. The illustrations are very good and a valuable addition to the book, as they are not mere pretty pictures, but of real historical and archaeological interest." — Prof. Henry Ferguson. "A unique feature consists of the very numerous illustrations. They throw light on almost every phase of English life in all ages. . . . Never, perhaps, in such a treatise has pictorial illustration been used with so good effect. The alert teacher will find here ample material for u.seful lessons by leading the pupil to draw the proper inferences and make the proper interpre- tations and comparisons. . . . The style is compact, vigorous, and inter- estinjT. There is no lack of precision ; and, in the selection of the details, the hand of the scholar thoroughly conversant with the source and with the results of recent criticism is plainly revealed." — The Nation, N. Y. " . . . It is illustrated by pictures of real value ; and when accompanied by the companion ' Atlas of Knglish History' is all that need be desired for its special purpose." — 7 he Churchman, N. Y. '\*^'i prospectus and specimen pages of Gardiner^ s ** Studenf s History of England'''* will be sent free on application to the publishers. LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91 and 93 Fifth Ave., New York. LONGMANS, GREEN, &- CO,^S PUBLTCATIONS, LONGMANS' SCHOOL GRAMMAR. By David Salmon. Part I., Parts of Speech \ Part II., Classification and Inflection ; Part III., Analysis of Sentences ; Part IV., History and Derivation. With Notes for Teachers and Index. New Edition, Revised. With Preface by E. A. Allen, Professor of English in the University of Missouri. i2mo. 272 pages. 75 cents. •• . . One of the best working grammars we have ever seen, and this applies* to all its parts. It is excellently arranged and perfectly graded Part IV., on History and Derivation, is as beautiful and interestmg as it is valuable —but this might be said of the whole book."— New York Teacher. •• The Grammar deserves to supersede all others with which we are ac- quainted."— N. Y. Nation, July 2. 1891. PREFACE TO AMERICAN EDITION. It seems to be generally conceded that English grammar is worse taught and less understood than any other subject in the school course. This is, doubtless, largely due to the kind of text-books used, which, for the most part, require methods that violate the laws of pedagogy as well as of language. There are. however, two or three EngUsh grammars that are admirable com- mentaries on the facts of the language, but, written from the pomt of view of the scholar rather than of the learner, they fail to awaken any interest m the subject, and hence are not serviceable for the class-room. ^ , ^, My attention was first called to Longmans' School Grammar by a favorable notice of it in the Nation. In hope of finding an answer to the inquiry of numerous teachers for " the best school grammar," I sent to the Publishers for a copy. An examination of the work, so far from resulting m the usual dis- appointment, left the impression that a successful text-book m a field strewn with failures had at last been produced. For the practical test of the class- room, I placed it in the hands ol an accomplished grammarian, who had tried several of the beet grammars published, and he declares the results to be most satisfactory. . , . r r . .u j 1 The author's simplicity of method, the clear statement of facts, the orderiy arrangement, the wise restraint, manifest on every page, reveal the scholar and practical teacher. No one who had not mastered the language in its eariy his- torical development could have prepared a school grammar so free from sense- less rules and endless details. The most striking feature, minimum of precept. «Λ»-//««»ί of example, will commend itself to all teachers who follow rational methods. In this edition, the Publishers have adapted the illustrative sentences to the ready comprehension of American pupils, and I take pleasure in recom- mending the book, in behalf of our mother tongue, to the teachers oi our Pub- lic and Private Schools. , ^ ^ ^ Edw^ard a Allen. University of Missouri, May, 1891. MR. HALE'S SCHOOL, BOSTON. " I have used your Grammar and Composition during the last year in my school, and like them both very much indeed. They are the best books of the kind I have ever seen, and supply a want I have felt for a good many years. — Albert Halb, Boston^ Mass. LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 91-93 Fifth Avenue, New York. LONGMANS, GREEN, &^ CO.^S PUBLICATIONS, LONGMANS' SCHOOL GRKyiMAR.^OPINlONS. GIRLS' HIGH SCHOOL. BOSTON. MASS. ^-o^o,7lT^r:iki:i^^^^ in my hands, some year or tion and approval. The exi^rnck^s nfThf > "^ years with perfect satisfac. cepted that course in gra?nmafaniL^^^^ t'^°^^ arrangements inter- I have taken the book and hive examfned I ^Ϊ?°γ '"^ ""'"^ ^'^'^^• '^ °-^^>^ simply a perfect grammar l^hl^nZt ire ΙηΓ 'π ""' '° "°^^'•• ^' ^^ and reasonableness, and it goes arfeastouit^f»^ with utmost gentleness public schools course it is, for the n?eLni η • ^2!" ^^ '" ^"^ Ρο^-^^ο" of our author has adjusted his book fol^'evervTes^ κ^ '^'"^u °^ ^°'"^• ^he and goes hand in hand with the instrnrinr ! ^°"^^.^J^able methods of teaching; should so taught, becoi^^^ a leisure to te.rh.r'^,.^ ^'^^ ,^ ^"'P' GrammS rehsh the authors pages of • ΝοΙεΓίοΓ t^J κ ^^ ^"ΐ P"P'^• ^.specially do I man who could write thLenoVes should enla^^^^^^^ '^" ""^ «f the book.^ The caching of English Grammar He wo„i57hfri^"' 'i^'' ^ monograph on the tion to our stock of available ped-iC i hSnc ί' ^^^ "" valuable contribu- while the book in question has. ί^Γ cS but f-nli """'' "^ '" ''°''"^• '^^* points of English Grammar, it neve? ncur. thi °<^^^5ΐοη to touch disputed are almost sure to deserve, of insuffic en? armf^in?'"'^ '^-l^ '^^°°^ grammars science. In short, the writer h?«ch!.u^^^^.'"^^"^^ ^'^^ modern linffuistic gogically. altogether com^Tenrforhr^^^ scientifically, as well as^p'da' —Principal Samuel Thurber. II high school, fort WAYNE. IND. school-booic, especil^ly°o ν°ίΤη En'o^ih GrL^^'^'T '° ^" enthusiastic over a I write to express my /ratefuAnnref intl. r^^^ ^"^^ °"^ <>^ P^^e enthusiasm the best English Grammar thari have ever '^^^^^ °"f ' Vh ^^^^^°"' excep^o^.' fifteen years of age. It is excenent in m!^. ^^i" for children from twelve to the hand of a wis! and skilful teache The'amhorT'^i^• ^""^^ P^^« ^^ows he facts of English Grammar in a ulv in.^fr κί^"^ has been content to present intelligible and\o interestmg from start ?ofin?^h^^h'^. "^^^^'u^"• '^^^ ^oik is so can make it dry. There are no defini^'""= ' ^^"'"' *'^^"^°^^^ language, no facts at war with "he definSt '""τΤ"''""' ^'ί '^^ ^^^^^ «^ ^^^ are more "complete " and as correct in ^S^'k• ^f ^ ^'^ °^^^^ grammars that with it in adaptation to the needs of von η If. j"^ ^""K "'^^ °"^ *« ^^ compared mtelligence.'>_PRiNciPAL C T. lIne^ students. It will not chloroform the high SCHOOL, ΜΙΝΟΟΚΑ, ILL. " We introduced vour «ir>ir>/^i r^.. term. andarehighlyLtisfied wUh the Sts"'°ir' '"^"S^ '"= ^''' °^ ">i» better work emnt forth, class of pupy|=,tU'^Sysig?ei-?.' ""^ " "° —Principal E. F. Adams. NEWARK ACADEMY, NEWARK, Ν J >y of arrangement, and abundanee of sv,™.,' Ψ ^""""g pomts are simplicl '.culars I know of „o other book^Tual to'v"^-! 1?^^ X^^^frAKD ""^ P"" LONGMANS. GREEN, & CO., 9X-93 Fifth Avenue, New York. LOMGMANS. GREEN. ^ CO.'S PUBLICATIONS STUDIES IN AMERICAN EDUCATION. By Albert Bushnell Hart, Ph.D. i2mo, cloth, gilt top, $1.25. Contents • Has the Teacher a Profession ?— Reform in the Grammar Schools— University Participation, a Substitute for University Extension- How to Study History— How to Teach History in Secondary Schools— I he Status of Athletics in American Colleges— Index. " This volume consists of six essays, each one excellent in its way.'' »u» Yi# u —Public Opinion^ New York. •• Prof. Hart is a keen observer and a profound thinker ; American education is, and he knows what it ought to be he knows what ._ . . . his whole uealmeni oFrhr^ubjeci is'vigorous and original. ." , . He has a most helpful artkk on the study of history, and another equally significant on the teaching of history in the secondary schools."— ^i-ari?», Boston. -The essays on 'How to Study and Teach History' are admirable As education is a unit, the same methods can be applied in all grades. Ί he relation of college curriculumsto secondary schools is the underlying subject of the book but itTstill an open question whether secondary schools should justify their methods because they prepare for college, or whether they should assume the Spendent position: that they furnish such knowledge as is most requ.si e for toys and girls who can study till they are eighteen, but are not going to college T\s easily possible to take this attitude and yet have a preparatory class for Harvard in the same high -^\ioo\r— Literary World, Boston. ''As for the essays themselves, however, only words of praise ought to be SDoken The style is clear, concise, active, enlivened by apt 1 lustrations ; 'breez; ' may perhaps be the word. The thought is practical and clear-headed, as Profes^r Hart always is, and the essays themselves have been ' brought down to date.' ''—School Review, Hamilton, N. Y. •' This new volume from the experience and pen of Professor Hart is one of DracticaJ interest, and a valuable addition to the rapidly increasing collection of wcSion iTeo^^^ . . • While all the chapters are interesting perhaps the one nios" hftSlg to the general reader is that on ' How to Study History, and SereTr HaTshows his d^ecided preferences for the topical method of s udy. Thfs chapTer should be read by all students of history and especially by those member^ of private classes, of which so many are to be found in our villages and clubs all through the conairy:'— Transcript, Boston. " His studies have a decidedly practical tendency, and together constitute an addition to our steadily growing stock of good educational l^^erature^^ Chicago. " The author is especially fitted to write a volume which has the rare merit of treating current educational ideas not only from the standpoint of the teacher but 1Ϊ^ of the pupil, the board of education and the public at large The book will prove specially interesting and instructive to^the |e-al re^^^^^^^ ^^.^ *' Whatever Dr. Hart contributes to educational or historical literature is always worth reading, and teachers will find these -ays^-y ^^^^^^ ^a. LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 9ΐ•93 Fi^th Avenue, New York. UMSIgMtt^U^ DATE DUE η u^yi A towL 1»• Λ vw * "^ ;'- v",^ ^^^^^^^,^^^^ i fL liAY^OlQfi» ! %0- 1 t 1 f 1 1 - 201-6503 Printed in USA ei^MMi^MitkdkM.AMi^ M>ji^»^MMH«a^^i^i.»«&<»<«u*ay^ie<» -i«S*• »aif*a«iE^ ■■":>:? 88HS JI 43 l^ ii^\ s UJ- ? i! r-i C «^ m ^ Η JD ** ϋϋ S Ul I CO X ^ _-——--—... 2 1 1959