DIEU ET MON DROIT

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GEORGE R.

GEORGE, by the Grace of GOD, King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, &c. To all to whom theſe Preſents ſhall come, Greeting. Whereas Our Truſty and Well-beloved BERNARD LINTOT of our City of London, Bookſeller, has humbly repreſented unto Us that he is now printing a Tranſlation of the ILIAD of HOMER from the Greek in Six Volumes in Folio by ALEXANDER POPE Gent. with large Notes upon each Book: And whereas the ſaid BERNARD LINTOT has informed Us that he has been at a great Expence in carrying on the ſaid Work: and that the ſole Right and Title of the Copy of the ſaid Work is veſted in the ſaid BERNARD LINTOT. He has therefore humbly beſought Us to grant him Our Royal Privilege and Licence for the ſole printing and publiſhing thereof for the Term of fourteen Years. WE being graciouſly pleaſed to encourage ſo Uſeful a Work, are pleaſed to condeſcend to his Requeſt, and do therefore give and grant unto the ſaid BERNARD LINTOT our Royal Licence and Privilege for the ſole printing and publiſhing the ſaid Six Volumes of the ſaid ILIAD of HOMER tranſlated by the ſaid ALEXANDER POPE, for and during the Term of fourteen Years, to be computed from the Day of the Date hereof; ſtrictly charging and prohibiting all Our Subjects within Our Kingdoms and Dominions to reprint or abridge the ſame either in the like or any other Volume or Volumes whatſoever, or to import, buy, vend, utter or diſtribute any Copies of the ſame or any part thereof reprinted beyond the Seas within the ſaid Term of fourteen Years, without the Conſent and Approbation of the ſaid BERNARD LINTOT, his Heirs, Executors and Aſſigns, by Writing under his or their Hands and Seals firſt had and obtained, as they and every of them offending herein will anſwer the contrary at their Perils, and ſuch other Penalties as by the Laws and Statutes of this Our Realm may be inflicted: Whereof the Maſter, Wardens and Company of Stationers of Our City of London, Commiſſioners and other Officers of Our Cuſtoms, and all other Our Officers and Miniſters whom it may concern, are to take Notice that due Obedience be given to Our Pleaſure herein ſignified. Given at Our Court at St. James's the ſixth Day of May, 1715. in the firſt Year of our Reign.

By his Majeſty's Command JAMES STANHOPE.
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THE ILIAD OF HOMER.

Tranſlated by Mr. POPE.

VOL. V.

—Sanctos auſus recludere fontes.
VIRG.

LONDON: Printed by W. BOWYER, for BERNARD LINTOT between the Temple-Gates. 1720.

THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

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The ARGUMENT.
The ſeventh Battle, for the Body of Patroclus: The Acts of Menelaus.

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MEnelaus, upon the Death of Patroclus, defends his Body from the Enemy: Euphorbus who attempts it, is ſlain. Hector advancing, Menelaus retires, but ſoon 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 Battel. The Greeks give Way, till Ajax rallies them: Aeneas ſuſtains the Trojans. Aeneas and Hector attempt the Chariot of Achilles, which is borne off by Automedon. The Horſes of Achilles deplore the Loſs of Patroclus: Jupiter covers his Body with a thick Darkneſs: The noble Prayer of Ajax on that Occaſion. Menelaus ſends Antilochus to Achilles, with the News of Patroclus's Death: Then returns to the Fight, where, tho' attack'd 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.

THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

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ON the cold Earth divine Patroclus ſpread,
Lies pierc'd with Wounds among the vulgar Dead.
Great Menelaus, touch'd with gen'rous Woe,
Springs to the Front, and guards him from the Foe:
Thus round her new fal'n Young, the Heifer moves,
Fruit of her Throes, and Firſt-born of her Loves,
And anxious, (helpleſs as he lies, and bare)
Turns, and returns her, with a Mother's Care.
Oppos'd to each, that near the Carcaſe came,
His broad Shield glimmers, and his Lances flame.
The Son of Panthus, skill'd the Dart to ſend,
Eyes the dead Hero and inſults the Friend.
[4] This Hand, Atrides, laid Patroclus low;
Warrior! deſiſt, nor tempt an equal Blow:
To me the Spoils my Proweſs won, reſign;
Depart with Life, and leave the Glory mine.
The Trojan thus: The Spartan Monarch burn'd
With generous Anguiſh, and in ſcorn return'd.
Laugh'ſt thou not, Jove! from thy ſuperior Throne,
When Mortals boaſt of Proweſs not their own?
Not thus the Lion glories in his Might,
Nor Panther braves his ſpotted Foe in Fight,
Nor thus the Boar (thoſe Terrors of the Plain)
Man only vaunts his Force, and vaunts in vain.
But far the vaineſt of the boaſtful Kind
Theſe Sons of Panthus vent their haughty Mind.
Yet 'twas but late, beneath my conqu'ring Steel
This Boaſter's Brother, Hyperenor fell,
Againſt our Arm which raſhly he defy'd,
Vain was his Vigour, and as vain his Pride.
Theſe Eyes beheld him on the Duſt expire,
No more to chear his Spouſe, or glad his Sire.
Preſumptuous Youth! like his ſhall be thy Doom,
To wait thy Brother to the Stygian Gloom;
[5] While yet thou may'ſt, avoid the threaten'd Fate;
Fools ſtay to feel it, and are wiſe too late.
Unmov'd, Euphorbus thus: That Action known,
Come, for my Brother's Blood repay thy own.
His weeping Father claims thy deſtin'd Head,
And Spouſe, a Widow in her bridal Bed.
On theſe thy conquer'd Spoils I ſhall beſtow,
To ſooth a Conſort's and a Parent's Woe.
No longer then defer the glorious Strife,
Let Heav'n decide our Fortune, Fame, and Life.
Swift as the Word, the miſſile Lance he flings,
The well-aim'd Weapon on the Buckler rings,
But blunted by the Braſs innoxious falls.
On Jove the Father, great Atrides calls,
Nor flies the Jav'lin from his Arm in vain,
It pierc'd his Throat, and bent him to the Plain;
Wide thro' the Neck appears the grizly Wound,
Prone ſinks the Warrior, and his Arms reſound.
The ſhining Circlets of his golden Hair,
Which ev'n the Graces might be proud to wear,
Inſtarr'd with Gems and Gold, beſtrow the Shore,
With Duſt diſhonour'd, and deform'd with Gore.
[6]
As the young Olive, in ſome Sylvan Scene,
Crown'd by freſh Fountains with eternal Green,
Lifts the gay Head, in ſnowy Flourets fair,
And plays and dances to the gentle Air;
When lo! a Whirlwind from high Heav'n invades
The tender Plant, and withers all its Shades;
It lies uprooted from its genial Bed,
A lovely Ruin, now defac'd and dead.
Thus young, thus beautiful, Euphorbus lay,
While the fierce Spartan tore his Arms away.
Proud of his Deed, and glorious in the Prize,
Affrighted Troy the tow'ring Victor flies,
Flies, as before ſome Mountain Lion's Ire
The village Curs, and trembling Swains retire;
When o'er the ſlaughter'd Bull they hear him roar,
And ſee his Jaws diſtil with ſmoaking Gore;
All pale with Fear, at diſtance ſcatter'd round,
They ſhout inceſſant, and the Vales reſound.
Meanwhile Apollo view'd with envious Eyes,
And urg'd great Hector to diſpute the Prize,
(In Mentes Shape, beneath whoſe martial Care
The rough Ciconians learn'd the Trade of War)
[7] Forbear, he cry'd, with fruitleſs Speed to chace
Achilles' Courſers of aethereal Race;
They ſtoop not, theſe, to mortal man's Command,
Or ſtoop to none but great Achilles' Hand.
Too long amus'd with a Purſuit ſo vain,
Turn, and behold the brave Euphorbus ſlain!
By Sparta ſlain! for ever now ſuppreſt
The Fire which burn'd in that undaunted Breaſt!
Thus having ſpoke, Apollo wing'd his Flight
And mix'd with Mortals in the Toils of Fight:
His Words infix'd unutterable Care
Deep in great Hector's Soul: Thro' all the War
He darts his anxious Eye; and inſtant, view'd
The breathleſs Hero in his Blood imbru'd,
(Forth welling from the Wound, as prone he lay)
And in the Victor's Hands the ſhining Prey.
Sheath'd in bright Arms, thro' cleaving Ranks he flies,
And ſends his Voice in Thunder to the Skies:
Fierce as a Flood of Flame by Vulcan ſent,
It flew, and fir'd the Nations as it went.
Atrides from the Voice the Storm divin'd,
And thus explor'd his own unconquer'd Mind.
[8]
Then ſhall I quit Patroclus on the Plain,
Slain in my Cauſe, and for my Honour ſlain,
Deſert the Arms, the Relicks of my Friend?
Or ſingly, Hector and his Troops attend?
Sure where ſuch partial Favour Heav'n beſtow'd,
To brave the Hero were to brave the God:
Forgive me, Greece, if once I quit the Field;
'Tis not to Hector, but to Heav'n I yield.
Yet, nor the God, nor Heav'n, ſhou'd give me Fear,
Did but the Voice of Ajax reach my Ear:
Still would we turn, ſtill battle on the Plains,
And give Achilles all that yet remains
Of his and our Patroclus—This, no more,
The Time allow'd: Troy thicken'd on the Shore,
A ſable Scene! The Terrors Hector led.
Slow he recedes, and ſighing, quits the Dead.
So from the Fold th'unwilling Lion parts,
Forc'd by loud Clamours, and a Storm of Darts;
He flies indeed, but threatens as he flies,
With Heart indignant and retorted Eyes.
Now enter'd in the Spartan Ranks, he turn'd
His manly Breaſt, and with new Fury burn'd,
[9] O'er all the black Battalions ſent his View,
And thro' the Cloud the god-like Ajax knew;
Where lab'ring on the left the Warrior ſtood,
All grim in Arms, and cover'd o'er with Blood,
There breathing Courage, where the God of Day
Had ſunk each Heart with Terror and Diſmay.
To him the King. Oh Ajax, oh my Friend!
Haſte, and Patroclus' lov'd Remains defend:
The Body to Achilles to reſtore,
Demands our Care; Alas! we can no more!
For naked now, deſpoil'd of Arms he lies;
And Hector glories in the dazling Prize.
He ſaid, and touch'd his Heart. The raging Pair
Pierce the thick Battel, and provoke the War.
Already had ſtern Hector ſeiz'd his Head,
And doom'd to Trojan Dogs th'unhappy Dead;
But ſoon as Ajax rear'd his tow'rlike Shield,
Sprung to his Car, and meaſur'd back the Field.
His Train to Troy the radiant Armour bear,
To ſtand a Trophy of his Fame in War.
Meanwhile great Ajax (his broad Shield diſplay'd)
Guards the dead Hero with the dreadful Shade;
[10] And now before, and now behind he ſtood:
Thus in the Center of ſome gloomy Wood,
With many a Step the Lioneſs ſurrounds
Her tawny Young, beſet by Men and Hounds;
Elate her Heart, and rowzing all her Pow'rs,
Darko'er the fiery Balls, each hanging Eye-brow lowrs.
Faſt by his Side, the gen'rous Spartan glows
With great Revenge, and feeds his inward Woes.
But Glaucus, Leader of the Lycian Aids,
On Hector frowning, thus his Flight upbraids.
Where now in Hector ſhall we Hector find?
A manly Form, without a manly Mind
Is this, O Chief! a Hero's boaſted Fame?
How vain, without the Merit is the Name?
Since Battel is renounc'd, thy Thoughts employ
What other Methods may preſerve thy Troy?
'Tis time to try if Ilion's State can ſtand
By thee alone, nor ask a foreign Hand;
Mean, empty Boaſt! but ſhall the Lycians ſtake
Their Lives for you? thoſe Lycians you forſake?
What from thy thankleſs Arms can we expect?
Thy Friend Sarpedon proves thy baſe Neglect:
[11] Say, ſhall our ſlaughter'd Bodies guard your Walls
While unreveng'd the great Sarpedon falls?
Ev'n where he dy'd for Troy, you left him there,
A Feaſt for Dogs, and all the Fowls of Air.
On my Command if any Lycian wait,
Hence let him march, and give up Troy to Fate.
Did ſuch a Spirit as the Gods impart
Impel one Trojan Hand, or Trojan Heart;
(Such, as ſhou'd burn in ev'ry Soul, that draws
The Sword for Glory, and his Country's Cauſe)
Ev'n yet our mutual Arms we might employ,
And drag yon' Carcaſs to the Walls of Troy.
Oh! were Patroclus ours, we might obtain
Sarpedon's Arms and honour'd Corſe again!
Greece with Achilles' Friend ſhou'd be repaid,
And thus due Honours purchas'd to his Shade.
But Words are vain—Let Ajax once appear,
And Hector trembles and recedes with Fear;
Thou dar'ſt not meet the Terrors of his Eye;
And lo! already, thou prepar'ſt to fly.
The Trojan Chief with fixt Reſentment ey'd
The Lycian Leader, and ſedate reply'd.
[12] Say, is it juſt (my Friend) that Hector's Ear
From ſuch a Warrior ſuch a Speech ſhou'd hear?
I deem'd thee once the wiſeſt of thy Kind,
But ill this Inſult ſuits a prudent Mind.
I ſhun great Ajax? I deſert my Train?
'Tis mine to prove the raſh Aſſertion vain;
I joy to mingle where the Battel bleeds,
And hear the Thunder of the ſounding Steeds.
But Jove's high Will is ever uncontroll'd,
The Strong he withers, and confounds the Bold,
Now crowns with Fame the mighty Man, and now
Strikes the freſh Garland from the Victor's Brow!
Come, thro' yon' Squadrons let us hew the Way,
And thou be Witneſs, if I fear to Day;
If yet a Greek the Sight of Hector dread,
Or yet their Hero dare defend the Dead.
Then turning to the martial Hoſts, he cries,
Ye Trojans, Dardans, Lycians, and Allies!
Be Men (my Friends) in Action as in Name,
And yet be mindful of your ancient Fame.
Hector in proud Achilles' Arms ſhall ſhine,
Torn from his Friend, by right of Conqueſt mine.
[13]
He ſtrode along the Field, as thus he ſaid.
(The ſable Plumage nodded o'er his Head)
Swift thro' the ſpacious Plain he ſent a Look;
One Inſtant ſaw, one Inſtant overtook
The diſtant Band, that on the ſandy Shore
The radiant Spoils to ſacred Ilion bore.
There his own Mail unbrac'd, the Field beſtrow'd;
His Train to Troy convey'd the maſſy Load.
Now blazing in th'immortal Arms he ſtands,
The Work and Preſent of celeſtial Hands;
By aged Peleus to Achilles given,
As firſt to Peleus by the Court of Heav'n:
His Father's Arms not long Achilles wears,
Forbid by Fate to reach his Father's Years.
Him, proud in Triumph glitt'ring from afar,
The God, whoſe Thunder rends the troubled Air,
Beheld with Pity; as apart he ſate,
And conſcious, look'd thro' all the Scene of Fate.
He ſhook the ſacred Honours of his Head;
Olympus trembled, and the Godhead ſaid.
Ah wretched Man! unmindful of thy End!
A Moment's Glory! and what Fates attend?
[14] In heav'nly Panoply divinely bright
Thou ſtand'ſt, and Armies tremble at thy Sight
As at Achilles ſelf! Beneath thy Dart
Lies ſlain the great Achilles' dearer Part:
Thou from the mighty Dead thoſe Arms haſt torn
Which once the greateſt of Mankind had worn.
Yet live! I give thee one illuſtrious Day,
A Blaze of Glory, e'er thou fad'ſt away.
For ah! no more Andromache ſhall come,
With joyful Tears to welcome Hector home;
No more officious, with endearing Charms,
From thy tir'd Limbs unbrace Pelides' Arms!
Then with his ſable Brow he gave the Nod,
That ſeals his Word; the Sanction of the God.
The ſtubborn Arms (by Jove's Command diſpos'd)
Conform'd ſpontaneous, and around him clos'd;
Fill'd with the God, enlarg'd his Members grew,
Thro' all his Veins a ſudden Vigour flew,
The Blood in brisker Tides began to roll,
And Mars himſelf came ruſhing on his Soul.
Exhorting loud thro' all the Field he ſtrode,
And look'd, and mov'd, Achilles, or a God.
[15] Now Meſthles, Glaucus, Medon he inſpires,
Now Phorcys, Chromius, and Hippothous fires;
The great Therſilochus like Fury found,
Aſteropaeus kindled at the Sound,
And Ennomus, in Augury renown'd.
Hear all ye Hoſts, and hear, unnumber'd Bands
Of neighb'ring Nations, or of diſtant Lands!
'Twas not for State we ſummon'd you ſo far,
To boaſt our Numbers, and the Pomp of War;
Ye came to fight; a valiant Foe to chaſe,
To ſave our preſent, and our future Race.
For this, our Wealth, our Products you enjoy,
And glean the Relicks of exhauſted Troy.
Now then to conquer or to die prepare,
To die, or conquer, are the Terms of War.
Whatever Hand ſhall win Patroclus ſlain,
Whoe'er ſhall drag him to the Trojan Train,
With Hector's ſelf ſhall equal Honours claim;
With Hector part the Spoil, and ſhare the Fame.
Fir'd by his Words, the Troops diſmiſs their Fears,
They join, they thicken, they protend their Spears;
[16] Full on the Greeks they drive in firm Array,
And each from Ajax hopes the glorious Prey:
Vain hope! what Numbers ſhall the Field o'erſpread,
What Victims periſh round the mighty Dead?
Great Ajax mark'd the growing Storm from far,
And thus beſpoke his Brother of the War.
Our fatal Day alas! is come (my Friend)
And all our Wars and Glories at an end!
'Tis not this Corpſe alone we guard in vain,
Condemn'd to Vulturs on the Trojan Plain;
We too muſt yield: The ſame ſad Fate muſt fall
On thee, on me, perhaps (my Friend) on all.
See what a Tempeſt direful Hector ſpreads,
And lo! it burſts, it thunders on our Heads!
Call on our Greeks, if any hear the Call,
The braveſt Greeks: This Hour demands them all.
The Warrior rais'd his Voice, and wide around
The Field re-echo'd the diſtreſsful Sound.
Oh Chiefs! oh Princes! to whoſe Hand is giv'n
The Rule of Men; whoſe Glory is from Heav'n!
Whom with due Honours both Atrides grace:
Ye Guides and Guardians of our Argive Race!
[17] All, whom this well-known Voice ſhall reach from far,
All, whom I ſee not thro' this Cloud of War,
Come all! Let gen'rous Rage your Arms employ,
And ſave Patroclus from the Dogs of Troy.
Oilean Ajax firſt the Voice obey'd,
Swift was his Pace, and ready was his Aid;
Next him Idomeneus, more ſlow with Age,
And Merion, burning with a Hero's Rage.
The long-ſucceeding Numbers who can name?
But all were Greeks and eager all for Fame.
Fierce to the Charge great Hector led the Throng;
Whole Troy embodied, ruſh'd with Shouts along.
Thus, when a Mountain-Billow foams and raves,
Where ſome ſwoln River diſembogues his Waves,
Full in the Mouth is ſtopp'd the ruſhing Tide,
The boiling Ocean works from Side to Side,
The River trembles to his utmoſt Shore,
And diſtant Rocks rebellow to the Roar.
Nor leſs reſolv'd, the firm Achaian Band
With brazen Shields in horrid Circle ſtand:
Jove, pouring Darkneſs o'er the mingled Fight,
Conceals the Warriors' ſhining Helms in Night:
[18] To him, the Chief for whom the Hoſts contend,
Had liv'd not hateful, for he liv'd a Friend:
Dead, he protects him with ſuperior Care,
Nor dooms his Carcaſe to the Birds of Air.
The firſt Attack the Grecians ſcarce ſuſtain,
Repuls'd, they yield; the Trojans ſeize the ſlain:
Then fierce they rally, to Revenge led on
By the ſwift Rage of Ajax Telamon.
(Ajax, to Peleus' Son the ſecond Name,
In graceful Stature next, and next in Fame.)
With headlong Force the foremoſt Ranks he tore;
So thro' the Thicket burſts the Moutain Boar,
And rudely ſcatters, far to diſtance round,
The frighted Hunter, and the baying Hound.
The Son of Lethus, brave Pelaſgus' Heir,
Hippothous, dragg'd the Carcaſe thro' the War;
The ſinewy Ancles bor'd, the Feet he bound
With Thongs, inſerted thro' the double Wound:
Inevitable Fate o'ertakes the Deed;
Doom'd by great Ajax' vengeful Lance to bleed;
It cleft the Helmets brazen Cheeks in twain;
The ſhatter'd Creſt, and Horſe-hair, ſtrow the Plain:
[19] With Nerves relax'd he tumbles to the Ground:
The Brain comes guſhing from the ghaſtly Wound;
He drops Patroclus' Foot, and o'er him ſpread
Now lies, a ſad Companion of the Dead:
Far from Lariſſa lies, his native Air,
And ill requites his Parent's tender Care.
Lamented Youth! in Life's firſt Bloom he fell,
Sent by great Ajax to the Shades of Hell.
Once more at Ajax, Hector's Jav'lin flies;
The Grecian marking, as it cut the Skies,
Shun'd the deſcending Death; which hiſſing on,
Stretch'd in the Duſt the great Iphytus' Son,
Schedius the brave, of all the Phocian Kind
The boldeſt Warrior, and the nobleſt Mind:
In little Panope for Strength renown'd,
He held his Seat, and rul'd the Realms around.
Plung'd in his Throat, the Weapon drank his Blood,
And deep tranſpiercing, thro' the Shoulder ſtood;
In clanging Arms the Hero fell, and all
The Fields reſounded with his weighty Fall.
Phorcys, as ſlain Hippothous he defends,
The Telamonian Lance his Belly rends;
[20] The hollow Armour burſt before the Stroke,
And thro' the Wound the ruſhing Entrails broke.
In ſtrong Convulſions panting on the Sands
He lies, and graſps the Duſt with dying Hands.
Struck at the Sight, recede the Trojan Train:
The ſhouting Argives ſtrip the Heroes ſlain.
And now had Troy, by Greece compell'd to yield,
Fled to her Ramparts, and reſign'd the Field;
Greece, in her native Fortitude elate,
With Jove averſe, had turn'd the Scale of Fate:
But Phoebus urg'd Aeneas to the Fight;
He ſeem'd like aged Periphas to Sight.
(A Herald in Anchiſes' Love grown old,
Rever'd for Prudence, and with Prudence, bold.)
Thus He—what Methods yet, oh Chief! remain,
To ſave your Troy, tho' Heav'n its Fall ordain?
There have been Heroes, who by virtuous Care,
By Valour, Numbers, and by Arts of War,
Have forc'd the Pow'rs to ſpare a ſinking State,
And gain'd at length the glorious Odds of Fate.
But you, when Fortune ſmiles, when Jove declares
His partial Favour, and aſſiſts your Wars,
[21] Your ſhameful Efforts 'gainſt your ſelves employ,
And force th'unwilling God to ruin Troy.
Aeneas thro the Form aſſum'd deſcries
The Pow'r conceal'd, and thus to Hector cries.
Oh laſting Shame! to our own Fears a Prey,
We ſeek our Ramparts, and deſert the Day.
A God (nor is he leſs) my Boſom warms,
And tells me, Jove aſſerts the Trojan Arms.
He ſpoke, and foremoſt to the Combat flew:
The bold Example all his Hoſts purſue.
Then firſt, Leocritus beneath him bled,
In vain belov'd by valiant Lycomede;
Who veiw'd his Fall, and grieving at the Chance,
Swift to revenge it, ſent his angry Lance;
The whirling Lance with vig'rous Force addreſt,
Deſcends, and pants in Apiſaon's Breaſt:
From rich Paeonias' Vales the Warrior came,
Next thee, Aſteropeus! in Place and Fame.
Aſteropeus with Grief beheld the Slain,
And ruſh'd to combate, but he ruſh'd in vain:
Indiſſolubly firm, around the Dead,
Rank within Rank, on Buckler Buckler ſpread,
[22] And hemm'd with briſtled Spears, the Grecians ſtood;
A brazen Bulwark, and an iron Wood.
Great Ajax eyes them with inceſſant Care,
And in an Orb, contracts the crowded War,
Cloſe in their Ranks commands to fight or fall,
And ſtands the Center and the Soul of all:
Fixt on the Spot they war; and wounded, wound;
A ſanguine Torrent ſteeps the reeking Ground;
On Heaps the Greeks, on Heaps the Trojans bled,
And thick'ning round 'em, riſe the Hills of Dead.
Greece, in cloſe Order and collected Might,
Yet ſuffers leaſt, and ſways the wav'ring Fight;
Fierce as conflicting Fires, the Combate burns,
And now it riſes, now it ſinks, by turns.
In one thick Darkneſs all the Fight was loſt;
The Sun, the Moon, and all th' Etherial Hoſt
Seem'd as extinct: Day raviſh'd from their Eyes,
And all Heav'n's Splendors blotted from the Skies.
Such o'er Patroclus Body hung the Night,
The reſt in Sunſhine fought, and open Light:
Unclouded there, th' Aerial Azure ſpread,
No Vapour reſted on the Mountain's Head,
[23] The golden Sun pour'd forth a ſtronger Ray,
And all the broad Expanſion flam'd with Day.
Diſpers'd around the Plain, by fits they fight,
And here, and there, their ſcatter'd Arrows light:
But Death and Darkneſs o'er the Carcaſe ſpread,
There burn'd the War, and there the Mighty bled.
Meanwhile the Sons of Neſtor, in the Rear,
Their Fellows routed, toſs the diſtant Spear,
And skirmiſh wide: So Neſtor gave Command,
When from the Ships he ſent the Pylian Band.
The youthful Brothers thus for Fame contend,
Nor knew the Fortune of Achilles' Friend;
In thought they view'd him ſtill, with martial Joy,
Glorious in Arms, and dealing Deaths to Troy.
But round the Corps, the Heroes pant for Breath,
And thick and heavy grows the Work of Death:
O'erlabour'd now, with Duſt, and Sweat and Gore,
Their Knees, their Legs, their Feet are cover'd o'er,
Drops follow Drops, the Clouds on Clouds ariſe,
And Carnage clogs their Hands, and Darkneſs fills their Eyes;
As when a ſlaughter'd Bull's yet reeking Hyde,
Strain'd with full Force, and tugg'd from Side to Side,
[24] The brawny Curriers ſtretch; and labour o'er
Th' extended Surface, drunk with Fat and Gore;
So tugging round the Corps both Armies ſtood;
The mangled Body bath'd in Sweat and Blood:
While Greeks and Ilians equal Strength employ,
Now to the Ships to force it, now to Troy.
Not Pallas' ſelf, her Breaſt when Fury warms,
Nor He, whoſe Anger ſets the World in Arms,
Could blame this Scene; ſuch Rage, ſuch Horror reign'd;
Such, Jove to honour the great Dead ordain'd.
Achilles in his Ships at diſtance lay,
Nor knew the fatal Fortune of the Day;
He, yet unconſcious of Patroclus' Fall,
In duſt extended under Ilion's Wall,
Expects him glorious from the conquer'd Plain,
And for his wiſh'd Return prepares in vain;
Tho' well he knew, to make proud Ilion bend,
Was more than Heav'n had deſtin'd to his Friend,
Perhaps to Him: This Thetis had reveal'd;
The reſt, in pity to her Son, conceal'd.
Still rag'd the Conflict round the Hero dead,
And Heaps on Heaps by mutual Wounds they bled.
[25] Curs'd be the Man (ev'n private Greeks would ſay)
Who dares deſert this well-diſputed Day!
Firſt may the cleaving Earth before our Eyes
Gape wide, and drink our Blood for Sacrifice!
Firſt periſh all, e'er haughty Troy ſhall boaſt
We loſt Patroclus, and our Glory loſt.
Thus they. While with one Voice the Trojans ſaid,
Grant this Day, Jove! or heap us on the Dead!
Then claſh their ſounding Arms; the Clangors riſe,
And ſhake the brazen Concave of the Skies.
Meantime, at diſtance from the Scene of Blood,
The penſive Steeds of great Achilles ſtood;
Their god-like Maſter ſlain before their Eyes,
They wept, and ſhar'd in human Miſeries.
In vain Automedon now ſhakes the Rein,
Now plies the Laſh, and ſooths and threats in vain;
Nor to the Fight, nor Helleſpont, they go;
Reſtive they ſtood, and obſtinate in Woe:
Still as a Tomb-ſtone, never to be mov'd,
On ſome good Man, or Woman unreprov'd
Lays its eternal Weight; or fix'd as ſtands
A marble Courſer by the Sculptor's Hands,
[26] Plac'd on the Hero's Grave. Along their Face,
The big round Drops cours'd down with ſilent pace,
Conglobing on the Duſt. Their Manes, that late
Circled their arching Necks, and wav'd in State,
Trail'd on the Duſt beneath the Yoke were ſpread,
And prone to Earth was hung their languid Head:
Nor Jove diſdain'd to caſt a pitying Look,
While thus relenting to the Steeds he ſpoke.
Unhappy Courſers of immortal Strain!
Exempt from Age, and deathleſs now in vain;
Did we your Race on mortal Man beſtow,
Only alas! to ſhare in mortal Woe?
For ah! what is there, of inferior Birth,
That breathes or creeps upon the Duſt of Earth;
What wretched Creature of what wretched kind,
Than Man more weak, calamitous, and blind?
A miſerable Race! But ceaſe to mourn.
For not by you ſhall Priam's Son be born
High on the ſplendid Car: One glorious Prize
He raſhly boaſts; the reſt our Will denies.
Ourſelf will Swiftneſs to your Nerves impart,
Ourſelf with riſing Spirits ſwell your Heart.
[27] Automedon your rapid Flight ſhall bear
Safe to the Navy thro' the Storm of War.
For yet 'tis giv'n to Troy, to ravage o'er
The Field, and ſpread her Slaughters to the Shore;
The Sun ſhall ſee her conquer, till his Fall
With ſacred Darkneſs ſhades the Face of all.
He ſaid; and breathing in th'immortal Horſe
Exceſſive Spirit, urg'd 'em to the Courſe;
From their high Manes they ſhake the Duſt, and bear
The kindling Chariot thro' the parted War:
So flies a Vulture thro' the clam'rous Train
Of Geeſe, that ſcream, and ſcatter round the Plain.
From Danger now with ſwifteſt Speed they flew,
And now to Conqueſt with like Speed purſue;
Sole in the Seat the Charioteer remains,
Now plies the Jav'lin, now directs the Reins:
Him brave Alcimedon beheld diſtreſt,
Approach'd the Chariot, and the Chief addreſt.
What God provokes thee, raſhly thus to dare,
Alone, unaided, in the thickeſt War?
Alas! thy Friend is ſlain, and Hector wields
Achilles' Arms triumphant in the Fields.
[28]
In happy time (the Charioteer replies)
The bold Alcimedon now greets my Eyes;
No Greek like him, the heav'nly Steeds reſtrains,
Or holds their Fury in ſuſpended Reins:
Patroclus, while he liv'd, their Rage cou'd tame,
But now Patroclus is an empty Name!
To thee I yield the Seat, to thee reſign
The ruling Charge: The Task of Fight be mine.
He ſaid. Alcimedon, with active Heat,
Snatches the Reins, and vaults into the Seat.
His Friend deſcends. The Chief of Troy deſcry'd,
And call'd Aeneas fighting near his Side.
Lo, to my Sight beyond our Hope reſtor'd,
Achilles' Car, deſerted of its Lord!
The glorious Steeds our ready Arms invite,
Scarce their weak Drivers guide them thro' the Fight:
Can ſuch Opponents ſtand, when we aſſail?
Unite thy Force, my Friend, and we prevail.
The Son of Venus to the Counſel yields;
Then o'er their Backs they ſpread their ſolid Shields;
With Braſs refulgent the broad Surface ſhin'd,
And thick Bull-hides the Spacious Concave lin'd.
[29] Them Chromius follows, Aretus ſucceeds,
Each hopes the Conqueſt of the lofty Steeds:
In vain, brave Youths, with glorious Hopes ye burn,
In vain advance! not fated to return.
Unmov'd, Automedon attends the Fight,
Implores th' Eternal, and collects his Might.
Then turning to his Friend, with dauntleſs Mind:
Oh keep the foaming Courſers cloſe behind!
Full on my Shoulders let their Noſtrils blow,
For hard the Fight, determin'd is the Foe;
'Tis Hector comes; and when he ſeeks the Prize,
War knows no mean: he wins it, or he dies.
Then thro' the Field he ſends his Voice aloud,
And calls th' Ajaces from the warring Croud,
With great Atrides. Hither turn (he ſaid)
Turn, where Diſtreſs demands immediate Aid;
The Dead, incircled by his Friends, forego,
And ſave the Living from a fiercer Foe.
Unhelp'd we ſtand, unequal to engage
The Force of Hector, and Aeneas' Rage:
Yet mighty as they are, my Force to prove,
Is only mine: th' Event belongs to Jove.
[30]
He ſpoke, and high the ſounding Jav'lin flung,
Which paſs'd the Shield of Aretus the young;
It pierc'd his Belt, emboſs'd with curious Art;
Then in the lower Belly ſtuck the Dart.
As when the pond'rous Axe deſcending full,
Cleaves the broad Forehead of ſome brawny Bull;
Struck 'twixt the Horns, he ſprings with many a Bound,
Then tumbling rolls enormous on the Ground:
Thus fell the Youth; the Air his Soul receiv'd,
And the Spear trembled as his Entrails heav'd.
Now at Automedon the Trojan Foe
Diſcharg'd his Lance; the meditated Blow
Stooping, he ſhun'd; the Jav'lin idly fled,
And hiſs'd innoxious o'er the Hero's Head:
Deep rooted in the Ground, the forceful Spear
In long Vibrations ſpent its Fury there.
With claſhing Falchions now the Chiefs had clos'd,
But each brave Ajax heard, and interpos'd;
Nor longer Hector with his Trojans ſtood,
But left their ſlain Companion in his Blood:
His Arms Automedon diveſts, and cries,
Accept, Patroclus! this mean Sacrifice.
[31] Thus have I ſooth'd my Griefs, and thus have paid
Poor as it is, ſome Off'ring to thy Shade.
So looks the Lion o'er a mangled Boar,
All grim with Rage, and horrible with Gore:
High on the Chariot at one Bound he ſprung,
And o'er his Seat the bloody Trophies hung.
And now Minerva, from the Realms of Air
Deſcends impetuous, and renews the War;
For, pleas'd at length the Grecian Arms to aid,
The Lord of Thunders ſent the blue-ey'd Maid.
As when high Jove, denouncing future Woe,
O'er the dark Clouds extends his Purple Bow,
(In ſign of Tempeſts from the troubled Air,
Or from the Rage of Man, deſtructive War)
The drooping Cattel dread th'impending Skies,
And from his half-till'd Field the Lab'rer flies.
In ſuch a Form the Goddeſs round her drew
A livid Cloud, and to the Battle flew.
Aſſuming Phoenix' Shape, on Earth ſhe falls
And in his well-known Voice to Sparta calls.
And lies Achilles' Friend, belov'd by all,
A Prey to Dogs beneath the Trojan Wall?
[32] What Shame to Greece for future times to tell,
To thee the greateſt, in whoſe Cauſe he fell!
O Chief, Oh Father! (Atreus' Son replies)
O full of Days! by long Experience wiſe!
What more deſires my Soul, than here, unmov'd,
To guard the Body of the Man I lov'd?
Ah would Minerva ſend me Strength to rear
This weary'd Arm, and ward the Storm of War!
But Hector, like the Rage of Fire, we dread,
And Jove's own Glories blaze around his Head.
Pleas'd to be firſt of all the Pow'rs addreſt,
She breathes new Vigour in her Hero's Breaſt,
And fills with keen Revenge, with fell Deſpight,
Deſire of Blood, and Rage, and Luſt of Fight.
So burns the vengeful Hornet (Soul all o'er)
Repuls'd in vain, and thirſty ſtill of Gore;
(Bold Son of Air and Heat) on angry Wings
Untam'd, untir'd, he turns, attacks, and ſtings.:
Fir'd with like Ardour fierce Atrides flew,
And ſent his Soul with ev'ry Lance he threw.
There ſtood a Trojan not unknown to Fame,
Eëtion's Son, and Podes was his Name;
[33] With Riches honour'd, and with Courage bleſt,
By Hector lov'd, his Comrade, and his Gueſt;
Thro' his broad Belt the Spear a Paſſage found,
And pond'rous as he falls, his Arms reſound.
Sudden at Hector's Side Apollo ſtood,
Like Phaenops, Aſius' Son, appear'd the God;
(Aſius the Great, who held his wealthy Reign
In fair Abydos by the rolling Main.)
Oh Prince (he cry'd) oh foremoſt once in Fame!
What Grecian now ſhall tremble at thy Name?
Doſt thou at length to Menelaus yield?
A Chief, once thought no Terror of the Field;
Yet ſingly, now, the long diſputed Prize
He bears victorious, while our Army flies.
By the ſame Arm illuſtrious Podes bled,
The Friend of Hector, unreveng'd, is dead:
This heard, o'er Hector ſpreads a Cloud of Woe,
Rage lifts his Lance, and drives him on the Foe.
But now th'Eternal ſhook his ſable Shield,
That ſhaded Ide, and all the ſubject Field
Beneath its ample Verge. A rolling Cloud
Involv'd the Mount; the Thunder roar'd aloud;
[34] Th'affrighted Hills from their Foundations nod,
And blaze beneath the Lightnings of the God:
At one Regard of his all-ſeeing Eye,
The Vanquiſh'd triumph, and the Victors fly.
Then trembled Greece: The Flight Peneleus led;
For as the brave Boeotian turn'd his Head
To face the Foe, Polydamas drew near,
And raz'd his Shoulder with a ſhorten'd Spear:
By Hector wounded, Leitus quits the Plain,
Pierc'd thro' the Wriſt; and raging with the Pain
Graſps his once formidable Lance in vain.
As Hector follow'd, Idomen addreſt
The flaming Jav'lin to his manly Breaſt;
The brittle Point before his Corſelet yields;
Exulting Troy with Clamour fills the Fields:
High on his Chariot as the Cretan ſtood,
The Son of Priam whirl'd the miſſive Wood;
But erring from its Aim, th'impetuous Spear
Strook to the Duſt the Squire, and Charioteer
Of martial Merion: Coeranus his Name,
Who left fair Lyctus for the Fields of Fame.
[35] On foot bold Merion fought; and now laid low,
Had grac'd the Triumphs of his Trojan Foe;
But the brave Squire the ready Courſers brought,
And with his Life his Maſter's Safety bought.
Between his Cheek and Ear the Weapon went,
The Teeth it ſhatter'd, and the Tongue it rent.
Prone from the Seat he tumbles to the Plain;
His dying Hand forgets the falling Rein:
This Merion reaches, bending from the Car,
And urges to deſert the hopeleſs War;
Idomeneus conſents; the Laſh applies;
And the ſwift Chariot to the Navy flies.
Nor Ajax leſs the Will of Heav'n deſcry'd,
And Conqueſt ſhifting to the Trojan Side,
Turn'd by the Hand of Jove. Then thus begun,
To Atreus' Seed, the god-like Telamon.
Alas! who ſees not Jove's almighty Hand
Transfers the Glory to the Trojan Band;
Whether the Weak or Strong diſcharge the Dart,
He guides each Arrow to a Grecian Heart:
Not ſo our Spears: inceſſant tho' they rain,
He ſuffers ev'ry Lance to fall in vain.
[36] Deſerted of the God, yet let us try
What human Strength and Prudence can ſupply;
If yet this honour'd Corps, in Triumph born,
May glad the Fleets that hope not our return,
Who tremble yet, ſcarce reſcu'd from their Fates,
And ſtill hear Hector thund'ring at their Gates.
Some Hero too muſt be diſpatch'd, to bear
The mournful Meſſage to Pelides' Ear;
For ſure he knows not, diſtant on the Shore,
His Friend, his lov'd Patroclus, is no more.
But ſuch a Chief I ſpy not thro' the Hoſt:
The Men, the Steeds, the Armies all are loſt
In gen'ral Darkneſs—Lord of Earth and Air!
Oh King! oh Father! hear my humble Pray'r:
Diſpel this Cloud, the Light of Heav'n reſtore;
Give me to ſee, and Ajax asks no more:
If Greece muſt periſh, we thy Will obey,
But let us periſh in the Face of Day!
With Tears the Hero ſpoke, and at his Pray'r
The God relenting, clear'd the clouded Air;
Forth burſt the Sun with all-enlight'ning Ray;
The Blaze of Armour flaſh'd againſt the Day.
[37] Now, now, Atrides! caſt around thy Sight,
If yet Antilochus ſurvives the Fight,
Let him to great Achilles' Ear convey
The fatal News—Atrides haſts away.
So turns the Lion from the nightly Fold,
Tho high in Courage, and with Hunger bold,
Long gall'd by Herdſmen, and long vext by Hounds,
Stiff with Fatigue, and fretted ſore with Wounds;
The Darts fly round him from a hundred Hands,
And the red Terrors of the blazing Brands:
Till late, reluctant, at the Dawn of Day
Sow'r he departs, and quits th'untaſted Prey.
So mov'd Atrides from his dang'rous Place
With weary'd Limbs, but with unwilling Pace:
The Foe, he fear'd, might yet Patroclus gain,
And much admoniſh'd, much adjur'd his Train.
Oh guard theſe Relicks to your Charge conſign'd,
And bear the Merits of the Dead in Mind;
How skill'd he was in each obliging Art;
The mildeſt Manners, and the gentleſt Heart:
He was, alas! But Fate decreed his End;
In Death a Hero, as in Life a Friend!
[38]
So parts the Chief; from Rank to Rank he flew,
And round on all ſides ſent his piercing View.
As the bold Bird, endu'd with ſharpeſt Eye
Of all that wing the mid Aerial Sky,
The ſacred Eagle, from his Walks above
Looks down, and ſees the diſtant Thicket move;
Then ſtoops, and ſowſing on the quiv'ring Hare,
Snatches his Life amid the Clouds of Air.
Not with leſs Quickneſs, his exerted Sight
Paſs'd this, and that way, thro' the Ranks of Fight:
Till on the Left the Chief he ſought, he found;
Chearing his Men, and ſpreading Deaths around.
To him the King. Belov'd of Jove! draw near,
For ſadder Tydings never touch'd thy Ear;
Thy Eyes have witneſs'd what a fatal Turn!
How Ilion triumphs, and th' Achaians mourn.
This is not all: Patroclus on the Shore,
Now pale and dead, ſhall ſuccour Greece no more.
Fly to the Fleet, this Inſtant fly, and tell
The ſad Achilles how his lov'd one fell:
He too may haſte the naked Corps to gain;
The Arms are Hector's, who deſpoil'd the Slain.
[39]
The youthful Warrior heard with ſilent Woe,
From his fair Eyes the Tears began to flow;
Big with the mighty Grief, he ſtrove to ſay
What Sorrow dictates, but no Word found way.
To brave Laodocus his Arms he flung,
Who near him wheeling, drove his Steeds along;
Then ran, the mournful Meſſage to impart,
With Tear-ful Eyes, and with dejected Heart.
Swift fled the Youth; nor Menelaus ſtands,
(Tho' ſore diſtreſt) to aid the Pylian Bands;
But bids bold Thraſymede thoſe Troops ſuſtain;
Himſelf returns to his Patroclus ſlain.
Gone is Antilochus (the Hero ſaid)
But hope not, Warriors! for Achilles' Aid:
Tho' fierce his Rage, unbounded be his Woe,
Unarm'd, he fights not with the Trojan Foe.
'Tis in our Hands alone our Hopes remain,
'Tis our own Vigour muſt the Dead regain;
And ſave our ſelves, while with impetuous Hate
Troy pours along, and this way rolls our Fate.
'Tis well (ſaid Ajax) be it then thy Care
With Merion's Aid, the weighty Corſe to rear;
[40] My ſelf, and my bold Brother will ſuſtain
The Shock of Hector and his charging Train:
Nor fear we Armies, fighting Side by Side;
What Troy can dare, we have already try'd,
Have try'd it, and have ſtood. The Hero ſaid.
High from the Ground the Warriors heave the Dead;
A gen'ral Clamour riſes at the Sight:
Loud ſhout the Trojans, and renew the Fight.
Not fiercer ruſh along the gloomy Wood,
With Rage inſatiate and with Thirſt of Blood,
Voracious Hounds, that many a Length before
Their furious Hunters, drive the wounded Boar;
But if the Savage turns his glaring Eye,
They howl aloof, and round the Foreſt fly.
Thus on retreating Greece the Trojans pour,
Wave their thick Falchions, and their Jav'lins ſhow'r:
But Ajax turning, to their Fears they yield,
All pale they tremble, and forſake the Field.
While thus aloft the Hero's Corſe they bear,
Behind them rages all the Storm of War;
Confuſion, Tumult, Horror, o'er the Throng
Of Men, Steeds, Chariots, urg'd the Rout along:
[41] Leſs fierce the Winds with riſing Flames conſpire,
To whelm ſome City under Waves of Fire,
Now ſink in gloomy Clouds the proud Abodes;
Now crack the blazing Temples of the Gods;
The rumbling Torrent thro' the Ruin rolls,
And Sheets of Smoak mount heavy to the Poles.
The Heroes ſweat beneath their honour'd Load:
As when two Mules, along the rugged Road,
From the ſteep Mountain with exerted Strength
Drag ſome vaſt Beam, or Maſt's unwieldy Length;
Inly they groan, big Drops of Sweat diſtill,
Th'enormous Timber lumbring down the Hill.
So theſe—Behind, the Bulk of Ajax ſtands,
And breaks the Torrent of the ruſhing Bands.
Thus when a River ſwell'd with ſudden Rains
Spreads his broad Waters o'er the level Plains,
Some interpoſing Hill the Stream divides,
And breaks its Force, and turns the winding Tides.
Still cloſe they follow, cloſe the Rear engage;
Aeneas ſtorms, and Hector foams with Rage:
While Greece a heavy, thick Retreat maintains,
Wedg'd in one Body like a Flight of Cranes,
[42] That ſhriek inceſſant, while the Faulcon hung
High on pois'd Pinions, threats their callow Young.
So from the Trojan Chiefs the Grecians fly;
Such the wild Terror, and the mingled Cry.
Within, without the Trench, and all the way,
Strow'd in bright Heaps, their Arms and Armour lay;
Such Horror Jove impreſt! Yet ſtill proceeds
The Work of Death, and ſtill the Battel bleeds.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE Seventeenth Book.
[45]OBSERVATIONS ON THE SEVENTEENTH BOOK.

[]

I.

THIS is the only Book of the Iliad which is a continued Deſcription of a Battel, without any Digreſſion or Epiſode, that ſerves for an Interval to refreſh the Reader. The heav'nly Machines too are fewer than in any other. Homer ſeems to have truſted wholly to the Force of his own Genius, as ſufficient to ſupport him, whatſoever lengths he was carried by it. But that Spirit which animates the Original, is what I am ſenſible evaporates ſo much in my Hands; that, tho' I can't think my Author tedious, I ſhould have made him ſeem ſo, if I had not tranſlated this Book with all poſſible Conciſeneſs. I hope there is nothing material omitted, tho' the Verſion conſiſts but of ſixty five Lines more than the Original.

However, one may obſerve there are more Turns of Fortune, more Defeats, more Rallyings, more Accidents, in this Battel, than in any other; becauſe it was to be the laſt wherein the Greeks and Trojans were upon equal Terms, before the Return of Achilles: And beſides, all this ſerves to introduce the chief Hero with the greater Pomp and Dignity.

II.

[46]

‘VERSE 3. Great Menelaus—]’ The Poet here takes occaſion to clear Menelaus from the Imputations of Idle and Effeminate, caſt on him in ſome Parts of the Poem; he ſets him in the Front of the Army, expoſing himſelf to Dangers in defending the Body of Patroclus, and gives him the Conqueſt of Euphorbus who had the firſt Hand in his Death. He is repreſented as the foremoſt who appears in his Defence, not only as one of a like Diſpoſition of Mind with Patroclus, a kind and generous Friend; but as being more immediately concern'd in Honour to protect from Injuries the Body of a Hero that fell in his Cauſe. Euſtathius. See the 29th Note on the 3d Book.

III.

‘VERSE 5. Thus round her new fal'n Young, &c.]’ In this Compariſon, as Euſtathius has very well obſerved, the Poet accomodating himſelf to the Occaſion, means only to deſcribe the Affection Menelaus had for Patroclus, and the Manner in which he preſented himſelf to defend his Body: And this Compariſon is ſo much the more juſt and agreeable, as Menelaus was a Prince full of Goodneſs and Mildneſs. He muſt have little Senſe or Knowledge in Poetry, who thinks that it ought to be ſuppreſs'd. It is true, we ſhou'd not ueſ it now-a-days, by reaſon of the low Ideas we have of the Animals from which it is derived; but thoſe not being the Ideas of Homer's Time, they could not hinder him from making a proper Uſe of ſuch a Compariſon. Dacier.

IV.

‘VERSE id. Thus round her new fal'n Young, &c.]’ It ſeems to me remarkable, that the ſeveral Compariſons to illuſtrate the Concern for Patroclus, are taken from the moſt tender [47] Sentiments of Nature. Achilles in the Beginning of the 16th Book, conſiders him as a Child, and himſelf as his Mother. The Sorrow of Menelaus is here deſcribed as that of a Heifer for her young one. Perhaps theſe are deſign'd to intimate the excellent Temper and Goodneſs of Patroclus, which is expreſs'd in that fine Elogy of him in this Book, ℣. 671. [...]. He knew how to be good-natur'd to all Men. This gave all Mankind theſe Sentiments for him, and no doubt the ſame is ſtrongly pointed at by the uncommon Concern of the whole Army to reſcue his Body.

The Diſſimilitude of Manners between theſe two Friends, Achilles and Patroclus, is very obſervable: Such Friendſhips are not uncommon, and I have often aſſign'd this Reaſon for them, that it is natural for Men to ſeek the Aſſiſtance of thoſe Qualities in others, which they want themſelves. That is ſtill better if apply'd to Providence, that aſſociates Men of different and contrary Qualities, in order to make a more perfect Syſtem. But, whatever is cuſtomary in Nature, Homer had a good poetical Reaſon for it; for it affords many Incidents to illuſtrate the Manners of them both more ſtrongly; and is what they call a Contraſt in Painting.

V.

‘VERSE 11. The Son of Panthus.]’ The Conduct of Homer is admirable in bringing Euphorbus and Menelaus together upon this Occaſion; for hardly any thing but ſuch a ſignal Revenge for the Death of his Brother, could have made Euphorbus ſtand the Encounter. Menelaus putting him in mind of the Death of his Brother, gives occaſion (I think) to one of the fineſt Anſwers in all Homer; in which the Inſolence of Menelaus is retorted in a way to draw Pity from every Reader; and I believe there is hardly one, after ſuch a Speech, that would not wiſh Euphorbus had the better of Menelaus: A Writer of Romances would not have fail'd to have giv'n Euphorbus the Victory. But however it was fitter to make Menelaus, who had receiv'd the greateſt Injury, do the moſt revengeful Actions.

VI.

[48]

‘VERSE 55. Inſtarr'd with Gems and Gold.]’ We have here a Trojan who uſes Gold and Silver to adorn his Hair; which made Pliny ſay, that he doubted whether the Women were the firſt that us'd thoſe Ornaments. Eſt quidem apud eundem [Homerum] virorum crinibus aurum implexum, ideo neſcio an prior uſus à foeminis coeperit. Lib. 33. Chap. 1. He might likewiſe have ſtrengthen'd his Doubt by the Cuſtom of the Athenians, who put into their Hair little Graſhoppers of Gold. Dacier.

VII.

‘VERSE 57. As the young Olive, &c.]’ This exquiſite Simile finely illuſtrates the Beauty and ſudden Fall of Euphorbus, in which the Alluſion to that Circumſtance of his comely Hair is peculiarly happy. Porphyry and Jamblicus acquaints us of the particular Affection Pythagoras had for theſe Verſes, which he ſet to the Harp, and us'd to repeat at his own Epicedion. Perhaps it was his Fondneſs of them, which put it into his Head to ſay, that his Soul tranſmigrated to him from this Hero. However it was, this Conceit of Pythagoras is famous in Antiquity, and has given occaſion to a Dialogue in Lucian entitled The Cock, which is, I think, the fineſt Piece of that Author.

VIII.

‘VERSE 65. Thus young, thus beautiful Euphorbus lay.]’ This is the only Trojan whoſe Death the Poet laments, that he might do the more Honour to Patroclus, his Hero's Friend. The Compariſon here us'd is very proper, for the Olive always preſerves its Beauty. But where the Poet ſpeaks of the Lapithae, a hardy and warlike People, he compares them to Oaks, that ſtand unmov'd in Storms and Tempeſts; and where Hector falls by Ajax, he likens him to an Oak ſtruck [49] down by Jove's Thunder. Juſt after this ſoft Compariſon upon the Beauty of Euphorbus, he paſſes to another full of Strength and Terror, that of the Lion. Euſtathius.

IX.

‘VERSE 110. Did but the Voice of Ajax reach my Ear.]’ How obſervable is Homer's Art of illuſtrating the Valour and Glory of his Heroes? Menelaus, who ſees Hector and all the Trojans ruſhing upon him, wou'd not retire if Apollo did not ſupport them; and though Apollo does ſupport them, he wou'd oppoſe even Apollo, were Ajax but near him. This is glorious for Menelaus, and yet more glorious for Ajax, and very ſuitable to his Character; for Ajax was the braveſt of the Greeks, next to Achilles. Dacier. Euſtathius.

X.

‘VERSE 117. So from the Fold th'unwilling Lion.]’ The Beauty of the Retreat of Menelaus is worthy Notice. Homer is a great Obſerver of natural Imagery, that brings the Thing repreſented before our View. It is indeed true, that Lions, Tygers, and Beaſts of Prey are the only Objects that can properly repreſent Warriors; and therefore 'tis no wonder they are ſo often introduc'd: The inanimate Things, as Floods, Fires, and Storms, are the beſt, and only Images of Battels.

XI.

‘VERSE 137. Already had ſtern Hector, &c.]’ Homer takes care, ſo long before-hand, to leſſen in his Reader's Mind the Horror he may conceive from the Cruelty that Achilles will exerciſe upon the Body of Hector. That Cruelty will be only the Puniſhment of this which Hector here exerciſes upon the Body of Patroclus; he drags him, he deſigns to cut off his Head, and to leave his Body upon the Ramparts, expos'd to Dogs and Birds of Prey. Euſtathius.

XII.

[50]

‘VERSE 169. You left him there a Prey to Dogs.]’ It was highly diſhonourable in Hector to forſake the Body of a Friend and Gueſt, and againſt the Laws of Jupiter Xenius, or hoſpitalis. For Glaucus knew nothing of Sarpedon's being honour'd with Burial by the Gods, and ſent embalm'd into Lycia. Euſtathius.

XIII.

‘VERSE 193. I ſhun great Ajax?]’ Hector takes no notice of the Affronts that Glaucus had thrown upon him, as knowing he had in ſome Reſpects a juſt Cauſe to be angry, but he cannot put up what he had ſaid of his fearing Ajax, to which Part he only replies: This is very agreeable to his heroic Character. Euſtathius.

XIV.

‘VERSE 209. Hector in proud Achilles Arms ſhall ſhine.]’ The Ancients have obſerved that Homer cauſes the Arms of Achilles to fall into Hector's Power, to equal in ſome ſort thoſe two Heroes, in the Battel wherein he is going to engage them. Otherwiſe it might be urg'd, that Achilles cou'd not have kill'd Hector without the Advantage of having his Armous made by the Hand of a God, whereas Hector's was only of the Hand of a Mortal; but ſince both were clad in Armour made by Vulcan, Achilles's Victory will be compleat, and in its full Luſtre. Beſides this Reaſon (which is for Neceſſity and Probability) there is alſo another, for Ornament; for Homer here prepares to introduce that beautiful Epiſode of the divine Armour, which Vulcan makes for Achilles. Euſtathius.

XV.

‘VERSE 216. The radiant Arms to ſacred Ilion bore.]’ A Difficulty may ariſe here, and the Queſtion may be asked why [51] Hector ſent theſe Arms to Troy? Why did not he take them at firſt? There are three Anſwers, which I think are all plauſible. The firſt, that Hector having kill'd Patroclus, and ſeeing the Day very far advanced, had no mind to take thoſe Arms for a Fight almoſt at an end. The ſecond, that he was impatient to ſhew to Priam and Andromache thoſe glorious Spoils. Thirdly, he perhaps at firſt intended to hang them up in ſome Temple: Glaucus's Speech makes him change his Reſolution, he runs after thoſe Arms to fight againſt Ajax, and to win Patroclus's Body from him. Dacier.

Homer (ſays Euſtathius) does not ſuffer the Arms to be carry'd into Troy for theſe Reaſons. That Hector by wearing them might the more encourage the Trojans, and be the more formidable to the Greeks: That Achilles may recover them again when he kills Hector: And that he may conquer him, even when he is ſtrengthened with that divine Armour.

XVI.

‘VERSE 231. Jupiter's Speech to Hector.]’ The Poet prepares us for the Death of Hector, perhaps to pleaſe the Greek Readers, who might be troubled to ſee him ſhining in their Heroes Arms. Therefore Jupiter expreſſes his Sorrow at the approaching Fate of this unfortunate Prince, promiſes to repay his Loſs of Life with Glory, and nods to give a certain Confirmation to his Words. He ſays, Achilles is the braveſt Greek, as Glaucus had ſaid juſt before; the Poet thus giving him the greateſt Commendations, by putting his Praiſe in the Mouth of a God, and of an Enemy, who were neither of them like to be prejudiced in his Favour. Euſtathius.

How beautiful is that Sentiment upon the miſerable State of Mankind, introduc'd here ſo artfully, and ſo ſtrongly enforc'd, by being put into the Mouth of the ſupreme Being! And how pathetic the Denunciation of Hector's Death, by that Circumſtance of Andromache's Diſappointment, when ſhe ſhall no more receive her Hero glorious from the Battel, in the Armour of his conquer'd Enemy!

XVII.

[52]

‘VERSE 247. The ſtubborn Arms &c.]’ The Words are,

[...]
[...]

If we give [...] a paſſive Signification, it will be, the Arms fitted Hector; but if an active (as thoſe take it who would put a greater Difference between Hector and Achilles) then it belongs to Jupiter; and the Senſe will be, Jupiter made the Arms fit for him, which were too large before: I have choſen the laſt as the more poetical Senſe.

XVIII.

‘VERSE 260. Unnumber'd Bands of neighb'ring Nations.]’ Euſtathius has very well explain'd the Artifice of this Speech of Hector, who indirectly anſwers all Glaucus's Invectives, and humbles his Vanity. Glaucus had juſt ſpoken as if the Lycians were the only Allies of Troy; and Hector here ſpeaks of the numerous Troops of different Nations, which he expreſly deſigns by calling them Borderers upon his Kingdom, thereby in ſome manner to exclude the Lycians, who were of a Country more remote; as if he did not vouchſafe to reckon them. He afterwards confutes what Glaucus ſaid, ‘"that if the Lycians wou'd take his Advice they wou'd return home";’ for he gives them to underſtand, that being hired Troops, they are obliged to perform their Bargain, and to fight till the War is at an end. Dacier.

XIX.

‘VERSE 290. Call on our Greeks.]’ Euſtathius gives three Reaſons why Ajax bids Menelaus call the Greeks to their Aſſiſtance; inſtead of calling them himſelf. He might be ſham'd to do it, leſt it ſhould look like Fear and turn to [53] his Diſhonour: Or the Chiefs were more likely to obey Menelaus: Or he had too much Buſineſs of the War upon his Hands, and wanted Leiſure more than the other.

XX.

‘VERSE 302. Oilean Ajax firſt.]’ Ajax Oileus (ſays Euſtathius) is the firſt that comes, being brought by his Love to the other Ajax, as it is natural for one Friend to fly to the Aſſiſtance of another: To which we may add, he might very probably come firſt, becauſe he was the ſwifteſt of all the Heroes.

XXI.

‘VERSE 318. Jove pouring Darkneſs]’ Homer, who in all his former Deſcriptions of Battels is ſo fond of mentioning the Luſtre of the Arms, here ſhades them in Darkneſs, perhaps alluding to the Clouds of Duſt that were rais'd; or to the Throng of Combatants; or elſe to denote the Loſs of Greece in Patroclus; or laſtly, that as the Heav'ns had mourn'd Sarpedon in Showers of Blood, ſo they might Patroclus in Clouds of Darkneſs. Euſtathius.

XXII.

‘VERSE 356. Panope renown'd.]’ Panope was a ſmall Town twenty Stadia from Chaeronea on the ſide of Mount Parnaſſus, and it is hard to know why Homer gives it the Epithet of renown'd, and makes it the Reſidence of Schedius, King of the Phocians; when it was but nine hundred Paces in Circuit, and had no Palace, nor Gymnaſium, nor Theatre, nor Market, nor Fountain,; nothing in ſhort that ought to have been in a Town which is the Reſidence of a King. Pauſanias (in Phocic.) gives the Reaſon of it; he ſays, that as Phocis was expoſed on that ſide to the Inroads of the Boeotians, Schedius made uſe of Panope as a ſort of Citadel, or Place of Arms. Dacier.

XXIII.

[54]

‘VERSE 375. He ſeem'd like aged Periphas.]’ The Speech, of Periphas to Aeneas hints at the double Fate, and the Neceſſity of Means. It is much like that of St. Paul after he was promiſed that no body ſhould periſh; he ſays, except theſe abide, ye cannot be ſaved.

XXIV.

‘VERSE 422. In one thick Darkneſs, &c.]’ The Darkneſs ſpread over the Body of Patroclus is artful upon ſeveral Accounts. Firſt, a fine Image of Poetry. Next, a Token of Jupiter's Love to a righteous Man; but the chief Deſign is to portract the Action; which, if the Trojans had ſeen the Spot, muſt have been decided one way or other, in a very ſhort time. Beſides, the Trojans having the better in the Action, muſt have ſeiz'd the Body contrary to the Intention of the Author: There are innumerable Inſtances of theſe little Niceties and Particularities of Conduct in Homer.

XXV.

‘VERSE 436. Meanwhile the Sons of Neſtor, in the Rear, &c.]’ It is not without Reaſon Homer in this Place makes particular mention of the Sons of Neſtor. It is to prepare us againſt he ſends one of them to Achilles, to tell him the Death of his Friend.

XXVI.

‘VERSE 450. . As when a ſlaughter'd Bull's yet reeking Hide.]’ Homer gives us a moſt lively Deſcription of their drawing the Body on all ſides, and inſtructs us in the ancient manner of ſtretching Hides, being firſt made ſoft and ſupple with Oyl. And tho' this Compariſon be one of thoſe mean [55] and humble ones which ſome have objected to, yet it has alſo its Admirers for being ſo expreſſive, and for repreſenting to the Imagination the moſt ſtrong and exact Idea of the Subject in hand. Euſtathius.

XXVII.

‘VERSE 458. Not Pallas ſelf, &c.]’ Homer ſays in the Original, ‘"Minerva could not have found fault, tho' ſhe were angry."’ Upon which Euſtathius ingeniouſly obſerves, how common and natural it is for Perſons in Anger to turn Criticks, and find Faults where there are none.

XXVIII.

VERSE 468.
To make proud Ilion bend,
Was more than Heav'n had promis'd to his Friend,
Perhaps to Him:]

In theſe Words the Poet artfully hints at Achilles's Death; he makes him not abſolutely to flatter himſelf with the Hopes of ever taking Troy, in his own Perſon, however he does not ſay this expreſly, but paſſes it over as an ungrateful Subject. Euſtathius.

XXIX.

‘VERSE 471. The reſt, in pity to her Son conceal'd.]’ Here, (ſays the ſame Author) we have two Rules laid down for common uſe. One, not to tell our Friends all their Miſchances at once, it being often neceſſary to hide part of them, as Thetis does from Achilles: The other, not to puſh Men of Courage upon all that is poſſible for them to do. Thus Achilles, tho' he thought Patroclus able to drive the Trojans back to their Gates, yet he does not order him to do ſo much, but only to ſave the Ships, and beat them back into the Field.

[56] Homer's admoniſhing the Reader that Achilles's Mother had conceal'd the Circumſtance of the Death of his Friend when ſhe inſtructed him in his Fate; and that all he knew, was only that Troy could not be taken at that time; this is a great Inſtance of his Care of the Probability, and of his having the whole Plan of the Poem at once in his Head. For upon the Suppoſition that Achilles was inſtructed in his Fate, it was a natural Objection, how came he to hazard his Friend? If he was ignorant on the other hand of the Impoſſibility of Troy's being taken at that time, he might for all he knew, be robb'd by his Friend (of whoſe Valour he had ſo good an Opinion) of that Glory, which he was unwilling to part with.

XXX.

‘VERSE 485. The penſive Steeds of great Achilles, &c.]’ It adds a great Beauty to a Poem when inanimate Things act like animate. Thus the Heavens tremble at Jupiter's Nod, the Sea parts it ſelf to receive Neptune, the Groves of Ida ſhake beneath Juno's Feet, &c. As alſo to find animate or brute Creatures addreſt to, as if rational: So Hector encourages his Horſes; and one of Achilles's is endued not only with Speech, but with Fore-knowledge of future Events. Here they weep for Patroclus, and ſtand fix'd and unmoveable with Grief: Thus is this Hero univerſally mourn'd, and every thing concurs to lament his Loſs. Euſtathius.

As to the particular Fiction of the Horſes weeping, it is countenanc'd both by Naturaliſts and Hiſtorians. Ariſtotle and Pliny write, that theſe Animals often deplore their Maſters loſt in Battel, and even ſhed Tears for them. So Solinus c. 47. Aelian relates the like of Elephants, when they are carry'd from their native Countrey, De Animal. lib. 10. c. 17. Suetonius in the Life of Caeſar, tells us, that ſeveral Horſes which at the Paſſage of the Rubicon had been conſecrated to Mars, and turn'd looſe on the Banks, were obſerved for ſome Days after, to abſtain from feeding, and to weep abundantly. Proximis diebus, equorum greges quos in trajiciendo Rubicone flumine Marti conſecrârat, ac [57] ſine cuſtode vagos dimiſerat, comperit pabulo pertinaciſſimè abſtinere, ubertim (que) flere. Cap. 81.

Virgil could not forbear copying this beautiful Circumſtance, in thoſe fine Lines on the Horſe of Pallas.

Poſt bellator Equus, poſitis inſignibus, Aethon,
It lacrymans, guttiſ (que) humectat grandibus ora.

XXXI.

‘VERSE 484. At diſtance from the Scene of Blood.]’ If the Horſes had not gone aſide out of the War, Homer could not have introduc'd ſo well what he deſign'd to their Honour. So he makes them weeping in ſecret (as their Maſter Achilles us'd to do) and afterwards coming into the Battel, where they are taken notice of and purſued by Hector. Euſtathius.

XXXII.

‘VERSE 495. Or fix'd, as ſtands a marble Courſer, &c.]’ Homer alludes to the Cuſtom in thoſe Days of placing Columns upon Tombs, on which Columns there were frequently Chariots with two or four Horſes. This furniſh'd Homer with this beautiful Image, as if theſe Horſes meant to remain there, to ſerve for an immortal Monument to Patroclus. Dacier.

I believe M. Dacier refines too much in this Note. Homer ſays,— [...], and ſeems to turn the Thought only on the Firmneſs of the Column, and not on the Imag'ry of it: Which would give it an Air a little too modern, like that of Shakeſpear, She ſate like Patience on a Monument Smiling at Grief.—Be it as it will, this Conjecture is ingenious; and the whole Compariſon is as beautiful as juſt. The Horſes ſtanding ſtill to mourn for their Maſter, could not be more finely repreſented than by the dumb Sorrow of Images ſtanding over a Tomb. Perhaps the very Poſture in which theſe Horſes are deſcribed, their Heads bowed [58] down, and their Manes falling in the Duſt, has an Alluſion to the Attitude in which thoſe Statues on Monuments were uſually repreſented: There are Bas-Reliefs that favour this Conjecture.

XXXIII.

‘VERSE 522. The Sun ſhall ſee Troy conquer.]’ It is worth obſerving with what Art and Oeconomy Homer conducts his Fable, to bring on the Cataſtrophe. Achilles muſt hear Patroclus's Death; Hector muſt fall by his Hand: This can not happen if the Armies continue fighting about the Body of Patroclus under the Walls of Troy. Therefore, to change the Face of Affairs, Jupiter is going to raiſe the Courage of the Trojans, and make them repulſe and chaſe the Greeks again as far as their Fleet; this obliges Achilles to go forth tho' without Arms, and thereby every thing comes to an Iſſue. Dacier.

XXXIV.

‘VERSE 555. Scarce their weak Drivers.]’ There was but one Driver, ſince Alcimedon was alone upon the Chariot; and Automedon was got down to fight. But in Poetry, as well as in Painting, there is often but one Moment to be taken hold on. Hector ſees Alcimedon mount the Chariot, before Automedon was deſcended from it; and thereupon judging of their Intention, and ſeeing them both as yet upon the Chariot, he calls to Aeneas. He terms them both Drivers in Mockery, becauſe he ſaw them take the Reins one after the other; as if he ſaid, that Chariot had two Drivers, but never a Fighter. 'Tis one ſingle Moment that makes this Image. In reading the Poets one often falls into great Perplexities, for want of rightly diſtinguiſhing the Point of Time in which they ſpeak. Dacier.

The Art of Homer in this whole Paſſage concerning Automedon, is very remarkable; in finding out the only proper Occaſion, for ſo renowned a Perſon as the Charioteer of Achilles to ſignalize his Valour.

XXXV.

[59]
VERSE 564.
In vain brave Youths, with glorious Hopes ye burn,
In vain advance! not fated to return.]

Theſe beautiful Anticipations are frequent in the Poets, who affect to ſpeak in the Character of Prophets, and Men inſpired with the Knowledge of Futurity. Thus Virgil to Turnus,

Neſcia mens hominum fati.—Turno tempus erit, &c.

So Taſſo, Cant. 12. when Argante had vow'd the Deſtruction of Tancred.

O vani giuramenti! Ecco contrari
Seguir toſto gli effetti a l' alta ſpeme:
E cader queſti in teneon pari eſtinto
Sotto colui, ch' ei fà già preſo, e vinto.

And Milton makes the like Apoſtrophe to Eve at her leaving Adam before ſhe met the Serpent.

—She to him engag'd
To be return'd by Noon amid the Bower,
And all Things in beſt order to invite
Noontide repaſt, or Afternoon's Repoſe.
O much deceiv'd, much failing, hapleſs Eve!
Thou never from that Hour, in Paradiſe,
Found'ſt either ſweet Repaſt, or ſound Repoſe.

XXXVI.

‘VERSE 642. So burns the vengeſul Hornet, &c.]’ It is literally in the Greek, ſhe inſpir'd the Hero with the Boldneſs of a Fly. There is no Impropriety in the Compariſon, this Animal being of all others the moſt perſevering in its Attacks, and the moſt difficult to be beaten off: The Occaſion alſo of the Compariſon being the reſolute Perſiſtance [60] of Menelaus about the dead Body, renders it ſtill the more juſt. But our preſent Idea of the Fly is indeed very low, as taken from the Littleneſs and Inſignificancy of this Creature. However, ſince there is really no Meanneſs in it, there ought to be none in expreſſing it; and I have done my beſt in the Tranſlation to keep up the Dignity of my Author.

XXXVII.

‘VERSE 651. By Hector lov'd, his Comrade and his Gueſt.]’ Podes the Favourite and Companion of Hector, being kill'd on this Occaſion, ſeems a parallel Circumſtance to the Death of Achilles's Favourite and Companion; and was probably put in here on purpoſe to engage Hector on a like Occaſion with Achilles.

XXXVIII.

‘VERSE 721. Some Hero too muſt be diſpatch'd, &c.]’ It ſeems odd that they did not ſooner ſend this Meſſage to Achilles; but there is ſome Apology for it from the Darkneſs and Difficulty of finding a proper Perſon. It was not every body that was proper to ſend but one who was a particuar Friend to Achilles, who might condole with him. Such was Antilochus who is ſent afterwards, and who, beſides, had that neceſſary Qualification of being [...]. Euſtathius.

XXXIX.

VERSE 731.
If Grecce muſt periſh we thy Will obey;
But let us periſh in the Face of Day!]

This Thought has been look'd upon as one of the ſublimeſt in Homer: Longinus repreſents it in this manner. ‘"The thickeſt Darkneſs had on a ſudden cover'd the Grecian Army, and hinder'd them from fighting: When Ajax, not knowing what Courſe to take, cries out, Oh Jove! diſperſe this Darkneſs which covers the Greeks, and if we [61] muſt periſh, let us periſh in the Light! This is a Sentiment truly worthy of Ajax, he does not pray for Life; that had been unworthy a Hero: But becauſe in that Darkneſs he could not employ his Valour to any glorious Purpoſe, and vex'd to ſtand idle in the Field of Battel, he only prays that the Day may appear, as being aſſured of putting an end to it worthy his great Heart, tho' Jupiter himſelf ſhould happen to oppoſe his Efforts."’

M. l' Abbè Teraſſon (in his Diſſertation on the Iliad) endeavours to prove that Longinus has miſrepreſented the whole Context and Senſe of this Paſſage of Homer. The Fact (ſays he) is, that Ajax is in a very different Situation in Homer from that wherein Longinus deſcribes him. He has not the leaſt Intention of fighting, he thinks only of finding out ſome fit Perſon to ſend to Achilles; and this Darkneſs hindering him from ſeeing ſuch an one, is the occaſion of his Prayer. Accordingly it appears by what follows, that as ſoon as Jupiter has diſpers'd the Cloud, Ajax never falls upon the Enemy, but in conſequence of his former Thought orders Menelaus to look for Antilochus, to diſpatch him to Achilles with the News of the Death of his Friend. Longinus (continues this Author) had certainly forgot the Place from whence he took this Thought; and it is not the firſt Citation from Homer which the Ancients have quoted wrong. Thus Ariſtotle attributes to Calypſo, the Words of Ulyſſes in the twelfth Book of the Odyſſeis; and confounds together two Paſſages, one of the ſecond, the other of the fifteenth Book of the Iliad. [Ethic. ad Nicom. l. 2. c. 9. and l. 3. c. 11.] And thus Cicero aſcribed to Agamemnon a long Diſcourſe of Ulyſſes in the ſecond Iliad; [De divinatione l. 2.] and cited as Ajax's, the Speech of Hector in the ſeventh. [See Aul. Gellius l. 15. c. 6.] One has no cauſe to wonder at this, ſince the Ancients having Homer almoſt by heart, were for that very Reaſon the more ſubject to miſtake in citing him by Memory.

To this I think one may anſwer, that granting it was partly the Occaſion of Ajax's Prayer to obtain Light, in order to ſend to Achilles (which he afterwards does) yet the Thought which Longinus attributes to him, is very conſiſtent with it; and the laſt Line expreſſes nothing elſe but an [62] heroic Deſire rather to die in the Light, than eſcape with Safety in the Darkneſs.

[...]

But indeed the whole Speech is only meant to paint the Concern and Diſtreſs of a brave General: The Thought of ſending a Meſſenger is only a Reſult from that Concern and Diſtreſs, and ſo but a ſmall Circumſtance; which cannot be ſaid to occaſion the Pray'r.

Monſ. Boileau has tranſlated this Paſſage in two Lines.

Grand Dieu! chaſſe la nuit qui nous couvre les yeux,
Et combats contre nous a la clarté des Cieux.

And Mr. la Motte yet better in one.

Grand Dieu! rends nous le jour, & combats contre nous!

But both theſe (as Dacier very juſtly obſerves) are contrary to Homer's Senſe. He is far from repreſenting Ajax of ſuch a daring Impiety, as to bid Jupiter combate againſt him; but only makes him ask for Light, that if it be his Will the Greeks ſhall periſh, they may periſh in open Day. [...]—(ſays he) that is, abandon us, withdraw from us your Aſſiſtance; for thoſe who are deſerted by Jove muſt periſh infallibly: This Decorum of Homer ought to have been preſerv'd.

XL.

‘VERSE 756. The mildeſt Manners, and the gentleſt Heart.]’ This is a fine Elogium of Patroclus: Homer dwells upon it on purpoſe, leſt Achilles's Character ſhould be miſtaken; and ſhews by the Praiſes he beſtows here upon Goodneſs, that Achilles's Character is not commendable for Morality. Achilles's Manners, entirely oppoſite to thoſe of Patroclus, are not morally good; they are only poetically ſo, that is to ſay, they are well mark'd; and diſcover before-hand what Reſolutions [63] that Hero will take: As hath been at large explain'd upon Ariſtotle's Poeticks. Dacier.

XLI.

‘VERSE 781. The youthful Warrior heard with ſilent Woe.]’ Homer ever repreſents an Exceſs of Grief by a deep Horrour, Silence, Weeping, and not enquiring into the manner of the Friend's Death: Nor could Antilochus have expreſs'd his Sorrow in any manner ſo moving as Silence. Euſtathius.

XLII.

‘VERSE 785. To brave Laodocus his Arms he flung.]’ Antilochus leaves his Armour, not only that he might make the more haſte, but (as the Ancients conjecture) that he might not be thought to be abſent by the Enemies; and that ſeeing his Armour on ſome other Perſon, they might think him ſtill in the Fight. Euſtathius.

XLIII.

VERSE 794.
But hope not Warriors for Achilles' Aid:
Unarm'd—]

This is an ingenious way of making the Valour of Achilles appear the greater; who, tho' without Arms, goes forth, in the next Book, contrary to the Expectation of Ajax and Menelaus. Dacier.

XLIV.

VERSE 825, &c. This Heap of Images which Homer throws together at the End of this Book, makes the ſame Action appear with a very beautiful Variety. The Deſcription of the burning of a City is ſhort but very lively. That of Ajax alone bringing up the Rear Guard, and ſhielding thoſe [64] that bore the Body of Patroclus from the whole Trojan Hoſt, gives a prodigious Idea of Ajax; and as Homer has often hinted, makes him juſt ſecond to Achilles. The Image of the Beam paints the great Stature of Patroclus: That of the Hill dividing the Stream is noble and natural.

He compares the Ajaxes to a Boar, for their Fierceneſs and Boldneſs; to a long Bank that keeps off the Courſe of the Waters, for their ſtanding firm and immoveable in the Battel: Thoſe that carry the dead Body, to Mules dragging a vaſt Beam thro' rugged Paths, for their Laboriouſneſs: The Body carried, to a Beam, for being heavy and inanimate: The Trojans to Dogs, for their Boldneſs; and to Water for their Agility and moving backwards and forwards: The Greeks to a Flight of Starlings and Jays, for their Timorouſneſs, and Swiftneſs. Euſtathius.

THE EIGHTEENTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

[]

The ARGUMENT.
The Grief of Achilles, and new Armour made him by Vulcan.

[]

THE News of the Death of Patroclus, is brought to Achilles by Antilochus. Thetis hearing his Lamentations comes with all her 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 ſhew 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 Advice of the former prevails, to remain encamp'd in the Field: The Grief of Achilles over the Body of Patroclus.

Thetis goes to the Palace of Vulcan to obtain new Arms for her Son. The Deſcription of the wonderful Works of Vulcan, and laſtly, that noble one of the Shield of Achilles.

The latter part of the nine and twentieth Day, and the Night enſuing, take up this Book. The Scene is at Achilles's Tent on the Sea-ſhore, from whence it changes to the Palace of Vulcan.

THE EIGHTEENTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

[67]
THUS like the Rage of Fire the Combat burns,
And now it riſes, now it ſinks by turns.
Meanwhile, where Helleſpont's broad Waters flow
Stood Neſtor's Son, the Meſſenger of Woe:
There ſate Achilles, ſhaded by his Sails,
On hoiſted Yards extended to the Gales;
Penſive he ſate; for all that Fate deſign'd,
Roſe in ſad Proſpect to his boding Mind.
Thus to his Soul he ſaid. Ah! what conſtrains
The Greeks, late Victors, now to quit the Plains?
Is this the Day, which Heav'n ſo long ago
Ordain'd, to ſink me with the Weight of Woe?
[68] (So Thetis warn'd) when by a Trojan Hand,
The braveſt of the Myrmidonian Band
Should loſe the Light? Fulfill'd is that Decree;
Fal'n is the Warrior, and Patroclus he!
In vain I charg'd him ſoon to quit the Plain,
And warn'd to ſhun Hectorean Force in vain!
Thus while he thinks, Antilochus appears,
And tells the melancholy Tale with Tears.
Sad Tydings, Son of Peleus! thou muſt hear;
And wretched I, th'unwilling Meſſenger!
Dead is Patroclus! For his Corps they fight;
His naked Corps: His Arm's are Hector's Right.
A ſudden Horror ſhot thro' all the Chief,
And wrapt his Senſes in the Cloud of Grief;
Caſt on the Ground, with furious Hands he ſpread
The ſcorching Aſhes o'er his graceful Head;
His purple Garments, and his golden Hairs,
Thoſe he deforms with Duſt, and theſe he tears:
On the hard Soil his groaning Breaſt he threw,
And roll'd and grovel'd, as to Earth he grew.
The Virgin Captives, with diſorder'd Charms,
(Won by his own, or by Patroclus' Arms)
[69] Ruſh'd from the Tents with Cries; and gath'ring round
Beat their white Breaſts, and fainted on the Ground:
While Neſtor's Son ſuſtains a manlier Part,
And mourns the Warrior with a Warrior's Heart;
Hangs on his Arms, amidſt his frantic Woe,
And oft prevents the meditated Blow.
Far in the deep Abyſſes of the Main,
With hoary Nereus, and the watry Train,
The Mother Goddeſs from her cryſtal Throne
Heard his loud Cries, and anſwer'd Groan for Groan.
The circling Nereids with their Miſtreſs weep,
And all the Sea-green Siſters of the Deep.
Thalia, Glauce, (ev'ry wat'ry Name)
Neſaea mild, and Silver Spio came.
Cymothoe and Cymodoce were nigh,
And the blue Languiſh of ſoft Alia's Eye.
Their Locks Actaea and Limnoria rear,
Then Proto, Doris, Panope appear;
Thoa, Pheruſa, Doto, Melita;
Agave gentle, and Amphithoe gay:
Next Callianira, Callianaſſa ſhow
Their Siſter Looks; Dexamene the ſlow,
[70] And ſwift Dynamene, now cut the Tydes:
Iaera now the verdant Wave divides;
Nemertes with Apſeudes lifts the Head:
Bright Galatea quits her pearly Bed:
Theſe Orythia, Clymene, attend,
Maera, Amphinome, the Train extend,
And black Janira, and Janaſſa fair,
And Amatheia with her amber Hair.
All theſe, and all that deep in Ocean held
Their ſacred Seats, the glimm'ring Grotto fill'd;
Each beat her Iv'ry Breaſt with ſilent Woe,
Till Thetis' Sorrows thus began to flow.
Hear me, and judge, ye Siſters of the Main!
How juſt a Cauſe has Thetis to complain?
How wretched, were I mortal, were my Fate!
How more than wretched in th'immortal State!
Sprung from my Bed a god-like Hero came,
The braveſt far that ever bore the Name;
Like ſome fair Olive, by my careful Hand
He grew, he flouriſh'd, and adorn'd the Land:
To Troy I ſent him; but the Fates ordain
He never, never muſt return again.
[71] So ſhort a ſpace the Light of Heav'n to view,
So ſhort alas! and fill'd with Anguiſh too?
Hear how his Sorrows echo thro' the Shore!
I cannot eaſe them, but I muſt deplore;
I go at leaſt to bear a tender part,
And mourn my lov'd one with a Mother's Heart.
She ſaid, and left the Caverns of the Main.
All bath'd in Tears, the melancholy Train
Attend her Way. Wide-opening part the Tides,
While the long Pomp the ſilver Wave divides.
Approaching now, they touch'd the Trojan Land;
Then, two by two, aſcended up the Strand.
Th'immortal Mother, ſtanding cloſe beſide
Her mournful Offspring, to his Sighs reply'd;
Along the Coaſt their mingled Clamours ran,
And thus the ſilver-footed Dame began.
Why mourns my Son? thy late-preferr'd Requeſt
The God has granted, and the Greeks diſtreſt:
Why mourns my Son? thy Anguiſh let me ſhare,
Reveal the Cauſe, and truſt a Parent's Care.
He, deeply groaning—To this cureleſs Grief
Not ev'n the Thund'rers Favour brings Relief.
[72] Patroclus—Ah!—Say Goddeſs can I boaſt
A Pleaſure now? Revenge itſelf is loſt:
Patroclus, lov'd of all my martial Train,
Beyond Mankind, beyond my ſelf, is ſlain!
Loſt are thoſe Arms the Gods themſelves beſtow'd
On Peleus; Hector bears the glorious Load.
Curs'd be that Day, when all the Pow'rs above
Thy Charms ſubmitted to a mortal Love:
Oh had'ſt thou ſtill, a Siſter of the Main,
Purſu'd the Pleaſures of the wat'ry Reign;
And happier Peleus, leſs ambitious, led
A mortal Beauty to his equal Bed!
E'er the ſad Fruit of thy unhappy Womb
Had caus'd ſuch Sorrows paſt, and Woes to come.
For ſoon alas! that wretched Offspring ſlain,
New Woes, new Sorrows ſhall create again:
'Tis not in Fate th'Alternate now to give;
Patroclus dead, Achilles hates to live.
Let me revenge it on proud Hector's Heart,
Let his laſt Spirit ſmoak upon my Dart;
On theſe Conditions will I breathe: Till then,
I bluſh to walk among the Race of Men.
[73]
A Flood of Tears, at this, the Goddeſs ſhed:
Ah then, I ſee thee dying, ſee thee dead!
When Hector falls, thou dy'ſt.—Let Hector die,
And let me fall! (Achilles made reply)
Far lyes Patroclus from his native plain!
He fell, and falling wiſh'd my Aid in vain.
Ah then, ſince from this miſerable Day
I caſt all hope of my Return away,
Since unreveng'd, a hundred Ghoſts demand
The Fate of Hector from Achilles' hand;
Since here, for brutal Courage far renown'd,
I live an idle Burden to the Ground,
(Others in Council fam'd for nobler Skill,
More uſeful to preſerve, than I to kill)
Let me—But oh! ye gracious Pow'rs above!
Wrath and Revenge from Men and Gods remove:
Far, far too dear to ev'ry mortal Breaſt,
Sweet to the Soul, as Hony to the Taſte;
Gath'ring like Vapours of a noxious kind
From fiery Blood, and dark'ning all the Mind.
Me Agamemnon urg'd to deadly Hate;
'Tis paſt—I quell it; I reſign to Fate.
[74] Yes—I will meet the Murd'rer of my Friend,
Or (if the Gods ordain it) meet my End.
The Stroke of Fate the braveſt cannot ſhun:
The great Alcides, Jove's unequal'd Son,
To Juno's Hate at length reſign'd his Breath,
And ſunk the Victim of all-conqu'ring Death.
So ſhall Achilles fall! ſtretch'd pale and dead,
No more the Grecian Hope, or Trojan Dread!
Let me, this inſtant, ruſh into the Fields,
And reap what Glory Life's ſhort Harveſt yields.
Shall I not force ſome widow'd Dame to tear
With frantic Hands, her long diſhevell'd Hair?
Shall I not force her Breaſt to heave with Sighs,
And the ſoft Tears to trickle from her Eyes?
Yes, I ſhall give the Fair thoſe mournful Charms—
In vain you hold me—Hence! my Arms, my Arms!
Soon ſhall the ſanguine Torrent ſpread ſo wide,
That all ſhall know, Achilles ſwells the Tide.
My Son (Coerulean Thetis made reply,
To Fate ſubmitting with a ſecret Sigh)
The Hoſt to ſuccour, and thy Friends to ſave,
Is worthy thee; the Duty of the Brave.
[75] But can'ſt thou, naked, iſſue to the Plains?
Thy radiant Arms the Trojan Foe detains.
Inſulting Hector bears the Spoils on high,
But vainly glories, for his Fate is nigh.
Yet, yet awhile, thy gen'rous Ardor ſtay;
Aſſur'd, I meet thee at the dawn of Day,
Charg'd with refulgent Arms (a glorious Load)
Vulcanian Arms, the Labour of a God.
Then turning to the Daughters of the Main,
The Goddeſs thus diſmiſs'd her azure Train.
Ye Siſter Nereids! to your Deeps deſcend,
Haſte, and our Fathers ſacred Seat attend,
I go to find the Architect divine,
Where vaſt Olympus ſtarry Summits ſhine:
So tell our hoary Sire—This Charge ſhe gave:
The Sea-green Siſters plunge beneath the Wave:
Thetis once more aſcends the bleſt Abodes,
And treads the brazen Threſhold of the Gods.
And now the Greeks, from furious Hector's Force,
Urge to broad Helleſpont their headlong Courſe:
Nor yet their Chiefs Patroclus' Body bore
Safe thro' the Tempeſt, to the Tented Shore.
[76] The Horſe, the FOot, with equal Fury join'd,
Pour'd on the Rear, and thunder'd cloſe behind;
And like a Flame thro' Fields of ripen'd Corn,
The Rage of Hector o'er the Ranks was born:
Thrice the ſlain Hero by the Foot he drew;
Thrice to the Skies the Trojan Clamours flew.
As oft' th' Ajaces his Aſſault ſuſtain;
But check'd, he turns; repuls'd, attacks again.
With fiercer Shouts his ling'ring Troops he fires,
Nor yields a Step, nor form his Poſt retires:
So watchful Sheperds ſtrive to force, in vain,
The hungry Lion from a Carcaſe ſlain.
Ev'n yet, Patroclus had he born away,
And all the Glories of th'extended Day;
Had not high Juno, from the Realme of Air,
Secret, diſpatch'd her truſty Meſſenger.
The various Goddeſs of the painted Bow,
Shot in a Whirlwind to the Shore below;
To great Achilles at his Ships ſhe came,
And thus began the many-colour'd Dame.
Riſe, Son of Peleus! riſe divinely brave!
Aſſiſt the Combate, and Patroclus ſave:
[77] For him the Slaughter to the Fleet they ſpread,
And fall by mutual Wounds around the Dead.
To drag him back to Troy the Foe contends;
Nor with his Death the Rage of Hector ends:
A Prey to Dogs he dooms the Corſe to lye,
And marks the Place to fix his Head on high.
Riſe, and prevent (if yet thou think of Fame)
Thy Friend's Diſgrace, thy own eternal Shame!
Who ſends thee, Goddeſs! from th'Etherial Skies?
Achilles thus. And Iris thus replies.
I come, Pelides! from the Queen of Jove,
Th'immortal Empreſs of the Reamls above;
Unknown to him who ſits remote on high,
Unknown to all the Synod of the Sky.
Thou com'ſt in vain, he cries (with Fury warm'd)
Arms I have none, and can I fight unarm'd?
Unwilling as I am, of force I ſtay,
Till Thetis bring me at the dawn of Day
Vulcanian Arms: What other ſhould I wield?
Except the mighty Telamonian Shield?
That, in my Friends Defence, has Ajax ſpread,
While his ſtrong Lance around him heaps the Dead:
[78] The gallant Chief defends Menoetius' Son,
And does, what his Achilles ſhould have done.
Thy want of Arms (ſaid Iris) well we know,
But tho' unarm'd, yet clad in Terrors, go!
Let but Achilles o'er yon' Trench appear,
Proud Troy ſhall tremble, and conſent to fear;
Greece from one Glance of that tremendous Eye
Shall take new Courage, and diſdain to fly.
She ſpoke, and paſt in Air. The Hero roſe;
Her Aegis, Pallas o'er his Shoulders throws;
Around his Brows a golden Cloud ſhe ſpread;
A Stream of Glory flam'd above his Head.
As when from ſome beleagur'd Town ariſe
The Smokes high-curling to the ſhaded Skies;
(Seen from ſome Iſland o'er the Main afar,
When Men diſtreſt hang out the Sign of War)
Soon as the Sun in Ocean hides his Rays,
Thick on the Hills the flaming Beacons blaze;
With long-projected Beams the Seas are bright,
And Heav'ns high Arch reflects the ruddy Light:
So from Achilles' Head the Splendours riſe,
Reflecting Blaze on Blaze, againſt the Skies
[79] Forth march'd the Chief, and diſtant from the Croud,
High on the Rampart rais'd his Voice aloud;
With her own Shout Minerva ſwells the Sound;
Troy ſtarts aſtoniſh'd, and the Shores rebound.
As the loud Trumpet's brazen Mouth from far
With ſhrilling Clangor ſounds th' Alarm of War,
Struck from the Walls, the Echoes float on high,
And the round Bulwarks, and thick Tow'rs reply,
So high his brazen Voice the Hero rear'd,
Hoſts drop their Arms, and trembled as they heard;
And back the Chariots roll, and Courſers bound,
And Steeds and Men lye mingled on the Ground.
Aghaſt they ſee the living Light'nings play,
And turn their Eye-balls from the flaſhing Ray.
Thrice from the Trench his dreadful Voice he rais'd;
And thrice they fled, confounded and amaz'd.
Twelve in the Tumult wedg'd, untimely ruſh'd
On their own Spears, by their own Chariots cruſh'd:
While ſhielded from the Darts, the Greeks obtain
The long-contended Carcaſe of the Slain.
A lofty Bier the breathleſs Warrior bears:
Around, his ſad Companions melt in Tears
[80] But chief Achilles, bending down his Head,
Pours unavailing Sorrows o'er the Dead.
Whom late, triumphant with his Steeds and Car,
He ſent refulgent to the Field of War,
(Unhappy Change!) now ſenſeleſs, pale, he found,
Stretch'd forth, and gaſh'd with many a gaping Wound.
Meantime, unweary'd with his heavenly Way,
In Ocean's Waves th'unwilling Light of Day
Quench his red Orb, at Juno's high Command,
And from their Labours eas'd th' Achaian Band.
The frighted Trojans (panting from the War,
Their Steeds unharneſs'd from the weary Car)
A ſudden Council call'd: Each Chief appear'd
In haſte, and ſtanding; for to ſit they fear'd.
'Twas now no Seaſon for prolong'd Debate;
They ſaw Achilles, and in him their Fate.
Silent they ſtood: Polydamas at laſt,
Skill'd to diſcern the Future by the paſt,
The Son of Panthus, thus expreſt his Fears;
(The Friend of Hector, and of equal Years:
The ſelf ſame Night to both a Being gave,
One wiſe in Council, one in Action brave.)
[80] [...]
[81]
In free Debate, my Friends, your Sentence ſpeak:
For me, I move, before the Morning break
To raiſe our Camp: Too dang'rous here our Poſt,
Far from Troy Walls, and on a naked Coaſt.
I deem'd not Greece ſo dreadful, while engag'd
In mutual Feuds, her King and Hero rag'd;
Then, while we hop'd our Armies might prevail,
We boldly camp'd beſide a thouſand Sail.
I dread Pelides now: his Rage of Mind
Not long continues to the Shores confin'd,
Nor to the Fields, where long in equal Fray
Contending Nations won and loſt the Day;
For Troy, for Troy, ſhall henceforth be the Strife,
And the hard Conteſt not for Fame, but Life.
Haſte then to Ilion, while the fav'ring Night
Detains thoſe Terrors, keeps that Arm from Fight;
If but the Morrow's Sun behold us here,
That Arm, thoſe Terrors, we ſhall feel, not fear;
And Hearts that now diſdain, ſhall leap with Joy,
If Heav'n permits them then to enter Troy.
Let not my fatal Prophecy be true,
Nor what I tremble but to think, enſue.
[82] Whatever be our Fate, yet let us try
What Force of Thought and Reaſon can ſupply;
Let us on Counſel for our Guard depend;
The Town, her Gates and Bulwarks ſhall defend:
When Morning dawns, our well-appointed Pow'rs
Array'd in Arms, ſhall line the lofty Tow'rs.
Let the fierce Hero then, when Fury calls,
Vent his mad Vengeance on our rocky Walls,
Or fetch a thouſand Circles round the Plain,
Till his ſpent Courſers ſeek the Fleet again:
So may his Rage be tir'd, and labour'd down;
And Dogs ſhall tear him, e'er he ſack the Town.
Return? (ſaid Hector, fir'd with ſtern Diſdain)
What, coop whole Armies in our Walls again?
Was't not enough, ye valiant Warriors ſay,
Nine Years impriſon'd in thoſe Tow'rs ye lay?
Wide o'er the World was Ilion fam'd of old
For Braſs exhauſtleſs, and for Mines of Gold:
But while inglorious in her Walls we ſtay'd,
Sunk were her Treaſures, and her Stores decay'd;
The Phrygians now her ſcatter'd ſpoils enjoy,
And proud Maeonia waſts the Fruits of Troy.
[83] Great Jove at length my Arms to Conqueſt calls,
And ſhuts the Grecians in their wooden Walls:
Dar'ſt thou diſpirit whom the Gods incite?
Flies any Trojan? I ſhall ſtop his Flight.
To better Counſel then Attention lend,
Take due Refreſhment, and the Watch attend.
If there be one whoſe Riches coſt him Care,
Forth let him bring them, for the Troops to ſhare;
'Tis better gen'rouſly beſtow'd on thoſe,
Than left the Plunder of our Country's Foes.
Soon as the Morn the roſie Welkin warms
Fierce on yon' Navy will we pour our Arms.
If great Achilles riſe in all his Might,
His be the Danger: I ſhall ſtand the Fight.
Honor, ye Gods! or let me gain, or give;
And live he glorious, whoſoe'er ſhall live!
Mars is our common Lord, alike to all;
And oft' the Victor triumphs, but to fall.
The ſhouting Hoſt in loud Applauſes join'd;
So Pallas robb'd the Many of their Mind,
To their own Senſe condemn'd! and left to chuſe
The worſe Advice, the better to refuſe.
[84]
While the long Night extends her ſable Reign,
Around Patroclus mourn'd the Grecian Train.
Stern in ſuperior Grief Pelides ſtood;
Thoſe ſlaught'ring Arms, ſo us'd to bathe in Blood,
Now claſp his clay-cold Limbs: Then guſhing ſtart
The Tears, and Sighs burſt from his ſwelling Heart.
The Lion thus, with dreadful Anguiſh ſtung,
Roars thro' the Deſart, and demands his Young;
When the grim Savage to his rifled Den
Too late returning, ſnuffs the Track of Men,
And o'er the Vales, and o'er the Forreſt bounds;
His clam'rous Grief the bellowing Wood reſounds.
So grieves Achilles; and impetuous, vents
To all his Myrmidons, his loud Laments.
In what vain Promiſe, Gods! did I engage?
When to conſole Menaetius' feeble Age,
I vow'd his much-lov'd Offspring to reſtore,
Charg'd with rich Spoils, to fair Opuntia's Shore!
But mighty Jove cuts ſhort, with juſt Diſdain,
The long, long Views of poor, deſigning Man!
One Fate the Warrior and the Friend ſhall ſtrike,
And Troy's black Sands muſt drink our Blood alike:
[85] Me too, a wretched Mother ſhall deplore,
An aged Father never ſee me more!
Yet, my Patroclus! yet a ſpace I ſtay,
Then ſwift purſue thee on the darkſome way.
E'er thy dear Relicks in the Grave are laid,
Shall Hector's Head be offer'd to thy Shade;
That, with his Arms, ſhall hang before thy Shrine,
And twelve, the nobleſt of the Trojan Line,
Slain by this Hand, ſad Sacrifice! expire;
Their Lives effus'd around thy flaming Pyre.
Thus let me lie till then! thus, cloſely preſt,
Bathe thy cold Face, and ſob upon thy Breaſt!
While Trojan Captives here thy Mourners ſtay,
Weep all the Night, and murmur all the Day:
Spoils of my Arms, and thine; when, waſting wide,
Our Swords kept time, and conquer'd ſide by ſide.
He ſpoke, and bid the ſad Attendants round
Cleanſe the pale Corſe, and waſh each honour'd Wound.
A maſſy Caldron of ſtupendous Frame
They brought, and plac'd it o'er the riſing Flame:
Then heap the lighted Wood; the Flame divides
Beneath the Vaſe, and climbs around the Sides:
[86] In its wide Womb they pour the ruſhing Stream;
The boiling Water bubbles to the Brim:
The Body then they bathe with pious Toil,
Embalm the Wounds, anoint the Limbs with Oyl;
High on a Bed of State extended laid,
And decent cover'd with a linen Shade;
Laſt o'er the Dead the milkwhite Linen threw;
That done, their Sorrows and their Sighs renew.
Meanwhile to Juno, in the Realms above,
(His Wife and Siſter) ſpoke almighty Jove.
At laſt thy Will prevails: Great Peleus' Son
Riſes in Arms: Such Grace thy Greeks have won.
Say (for I know not) is their Race divine,
And thou the Mother of that martial Line?
What Words are theſe (th'Imperial Dame replies,
While Anger flaſh'd from her majeſtick Eyes)
Succour like this a mortal Arm might lend,
And ſuch Succeſs mere human Wit attend:
And ſhall not I, the ſecond Pow'r above,
Heav'ns Queen, and Conſort of the thund'ring Jove,
Say, ſhall not I one Nation's Fate command,
Not wreak my Vengeance on one guilty Land?
[87]
So they. Meanwhile the ſilver-footed Dame
Reach'd the Vulcanian Dome, Eternal Frame!
High eminent amid the Works divine,
Where Heav'ns far-beaming, brazen Manſions ſhine.
There the lame Architect the Goddeſs found,
Obſcure in Smoak, his Forges flaming round,
While bath'd in Sweat from Fire to Fire he flew,
And puffing loud, the roaring Bellows blew.
That Day, no common Task his Labour claim'd:
Full twenty Tripods for his Hall he fram'd,
That plac'd on living Wheels of maſſy Gold,
(Wond'rous to tell) inſtinct with Spirit roll'd
From Place to Place, around the bleſt Abodes,
Self-mov'd, obedient to the Beck of Gods:
For their fair Handles now, o'erwrought with Flow'rs,
In Molds prepar'd, the glowing Ore he pours.
Juſt as reſponſive to his Thought, the Frame
Stood prompt to move, the Azure Goddeſs came:
Charis, his Spouſe, a Grace divinely fair,
(With purple Fillets round her braided Hair)
Obſerv'd her ent'ring; her ſoft Hand ſhe preſs'd,
And ſmiling, thus the wat'ry Queen addreſs'd.
[88]
What, Goddeſs! this unuſual Favour draws?
All hail, and welcome! whatſoe'er the Cauſe:
Till now a Stranger, in a happy Hour
Approach, and taſte the Dainties of the Bow'r.
High on a Throne, with Stars of ſilver grac'd
And various Artifice, the Queen ſhe plac'd;
A Footſtool at her Feet: then calling, ſaid,
Vulcan draw near, 'tis Thetis asks your Aid.
Thetis (reply'd the God) our Pow'rs may claim,
An ever dear, and ever honour'd Name!
When my proud Mother hurl'd me from the Sky,
(My aukward Form, it ſeems, diſpleas'd her Eye)
She, and Eurynome, my Griefs redreſt,
Tnd ſoft receiv'd me on their ſilver Breaſt.
Ev'n then, theſe Arts employ'd my infant Thought;
Chains, Bracelets, Pendants, all their Toys I wrought.
Nine Years kept ſecret in the dark Abode,
Secure I lay, conceal'd from Man and God:
Deep in a cavern'd Rock my Days were led;
The ruſhing Ocean murmur'd o'er my Head.
Now ſince her Preſence glads our Manſion, ſay,
For ſuch Deſert what Service can I pay?
[89] Vouchſafe, O Thetis! at our Board to ſhare
The genial Rites, and hoſpitable Fare;
While I my Labours of the Forge forego,
And bid the roaring Bellows ceaſe to blow.
Then from his Anvil the lame Artiſt roſe;
Wide with diſtorted Legs, oblique he goes,
And ſtills the Bellows, and (in order laid)
Locks in their Cheſt his Inſtruments of Trade.
Then with a Sponge the ſooty Workman dreſt
His brawny Arms imbrown'd, and hairy Breaſt.
With his huge Scepter grac'd, and red Attire,
Came halting forth the Sov'reign of the Fire:
The Monarch's Steps two Female Forms uphold,
That mov'd, and breath'd, in animated Gold;
To whom was Voice, and Senſe, and Science given
Of Works divine (ſuch Wonders are in Heav'n!)
On theſe ſupported, with unequal Gait,
He reach'd the Throne where penſive Thetis ſate;
There plac'd beſide her on the ſhining Frame,
He thus addreſs'd the ſilver-footed Dame.
Thee, welcome Goddeſs! what Occaſion calls,
(So long a Stranger) to theſe honour'd Walls?
[90] 'Tis thine, fair Thetis, the Command to lay,
And Vulcan's Joy, and Duty, to obey,
To whom the mournful Mother thus replies,
(The cryſtal Drops ſtood trembling in her Eyes)
Oh Vulcan! ſay, was ever Breaſt divine
So pierc'd with Sorrows, ſo o'erwhelm'd as mine?
Of all the Goddeſſes, did Jove prepare
For Thetis only ſuch a Weight of Care?
I, only I, of all the wat'ry Race,
By Force ſubjected to a Man's Embrace,
Who, ſinking now with Age, and Sorrow, pays
The mighty Fine impos'd on length of Days.
Sprung from my Bed a god-like Hero came,
The braveſt ſure that ever bore the Name;
Like ſome fair Plant beneath my careful Hand
He grew, he flouriſh'd, and he grac'd the Land:
To Troy I ſent him! but his native Shore
Never, ah never, ſhall receive him more;
(Ev'n while he lives, he waſtes with ſecret Woe)
Nor I, a Goddeſs, can retard the Blow!
Robb'd of the Prize the Grecian Suffrage gave,
The King of Nations forc'd his royal Slave:
[91] For this he griev'd; and till the Greeks oppreſt
Requir'd his Arm, he ſorrow'd unredreſt.
Large Gifts they promiſe, and their Elders ſend;
In vain—He arms not, but permits his Friend
His Arms, his Steeds, his Forces to employ;
He marches, combates, almoſt conquers Troy:
Then ſlain by Phoebus (Hector had the Name)
At once reſigns his Armour, Life, and Fame.
But thou, in Pity, by my Pray'r be won;
Grace with immortal Arms this ſhort-liv'd Son,
And to the Field in martial Pomp reſtore,
To ſhine with Glory, till he ſhines no more!
To her the Artiſt-God. Thy Griefs reſign,
Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine.
O could I hide him from the Fates as well,
Or with theſe Hands the cruel Stroke repell,
As I ſhall forge moſt envy'd Arms, the Gaze
Of wond'ring Ages, and the World's Amaze!
Thus having ſaid, the Father of the Fires
To the black Labours of his Forge retires.
Soon as he bade them blow, the Bellows turn'd
Their iron Mouths; and where the Furnace burn'd,
[92] Reſounding breath'd: At once the Blaſt expires,
And twenty Forges catch at once the Fires;
Juſt as the God directs, now loud, now low,
They raiſe a Tempeſt, or they gently blow.
In hiſſing Flames huge ſilver Bars are roll'd,
And ſtubborn Braſs, and Tin, and ſolid Gold:
Before, deep fix'd, th'eternal Anvils ſtand;
The pond'rous Hammer loads his better Hand,
His left with Tongs turns the vex'd Metal round;
And thick, ſtrong Strokes, the doubling Vaults rebound.
Then firſt he form'd th'immenſe and ſolid Shield;
Rich, various Artifice emblaz'd the Field;
Its utmoſt Verge a threefold Circle bound;
A ſilver Chain ſuſpends the maſſy Round,
Five ample Plates the broad Expanſe compoſe,
And god-like Labours on the Surface roſe.
There ſhone the Image of the Maſter Mind:
There Earth, there Heav'n, there Ocean he deſign'd;
Th'unweary'd Sun, the Moon compleatly round;
The ſtarry Lights that Heav'ns high Convex crown'd;
The Pleiads, Hyads, with the Northern Team;
And great Orion's more refulgent Beam;
[93] To which, around the Axle of the Sky,
The Bear revolving, points his golden Eye,
Still ſhines exalted on th'aetherial Plain,
Nor bends his blazing Forehead to the Main.
Two Cities radiant on the Shield appear,
The Image one of Peace, and one of War.
Here ſacred Pomp, and genial Feaſt delight,
And ſolemn Dance, and Hymenaeal Rite;
Along the Street the new-made Brides are led,
With Torches flaming, to the nuptial Bed;
The youthful Dancers in a Circle bound
To the ſoft Flute, and Cittern's ſilver Sound:
Thro' the fair Streets, the Matrons in a Row,
Stand in their Porches, and enjoy the Show.
There, in the Forum ſwarm a num'rous Train;
The Subject of Debate, a Townſman ſlain:
One pleads the Fine diſcharg'd, which one deny'd,
And bade the Publick and the Laws decide:
The Witneſs is produc'd on either Hand;
For this, or that, the partial People ſtand:
Th'appointed Heralds ſtill the noiſy Bands,
And form a Ring, with Scepters in their Hands;
[94] On Seats of Stone, within the ſacred Place,
The rev'rend Elders nodded o'er the Caſe;
Alternate, each th'atteſting Scepter took,
And riſing ſolemn, each his Sentence ſpoke.
Two golden Talents lay amidſt, in ſight,
The Prize of him who beſt adjudg'd the Right.
Another Part (a Proſpect diff'ring far)
Glow'd with refulgent Arms, and horrid War.
Two mighty Hoſts a leaguer'd Town embrace,
And one would pillage, one wou'd burn the Place.
Meantime the Townſmen, arm'd with ſilent Care,
A ſecret Ambuſh on the Foe prepare:
Their Wives, their Children, and the watchful Band,
Of trembling Parents on the Turrets ſtand.
They march; by Pallas and by Mars made bold;
Gold were the Gods, their radiant Garments Gold,
And Gold their Armour: Theſe the Squadron led,
Auguſt, Divine, Superior by the Head!
A Place for Ambuſh fit, they found, and ſtood
Cover'd with Shields, beſide a ſilver Flood.
Two Spies at diſtance lurk, and watchful ſeem
If Sheep or Oxen ſeek the winding Stream.
[95] Soon the white Flocks proceeded o'er the Plains,
And Steers ſlow-moving, and two Shepherd Swains;
Behind them, piping on their Reeds, they go,
Nor fear an Ambuſh, nor ſuſpect a Foe.
In Arms the glitt'ring Squadron riſing round
Ruſh ſudden; Hills of Slaughter heap the Ground,
Whole Flocks and Herds lye bleeding on the Plains,
And, all amidſt them, dead, the Shepherd wains!
The bellowing Oxen the Beſiegers hear;
They riſe, take Horſe, approach, and meet the War;
They fight, they fall, beſide the ſilver Flood;
The waving Silver ſeem'd to bluſh with Blood.
There Tumult, there Contention ſtood confeſt;
One rear'd a Dagger at a Captive's Breaſt,
One held a living Foe, that freſhly bled
With new-made Wounds; another dragg'd a dead;
Now here, now there, the Carcaſſes they tore:
Fate ſtalk'd amidſt them, grim with human Gore.
And the whole War came out, and met the Eye;
And each bold Figure ſeem'd to live, or die.
A Field deep furrow'd, next the God deſign'd,
The third time labour'd by the ſweating Hind;
[96] The ſhining Shares full many Plowmen guide,
And turn their crooked Yokes on ev'ry ſide.
Still as at either End they wheel around,
The Maſter meets 'em with his Goblet crown'd;
The hearty Draught rewards, renews their Toil;
Then back the turning Plow-ſhares cleave the Soil:
The new-ear'd Earth in blacker Ridges roll'd;
Sable it look'd, tho form'd of molten Gold.
Another Field roſe high with waving Grain;
With bended Sickles ſtand the Reaper-Train:
Here ſtretch'd in Ranks the level'd Swarths are found,
Sheaves heap'd on Sheaves, here thicken up the Ground.
With ſweeping Stroke the Mowers ſtrow the Lands;
The Gath'rers follow, and collect in Bands;
And laſt the Children, in whoſe Arms are born
(Too ſhort to gripe them) the brown Sheaves of Corn.
The ruſtic Monarch of the Field deſcries
With ſilent Glee, the Heaps around him riſe.
A ready Banquet on the Turf is laid,
Beneath an ample Oak's expanded Shade.
The Victim-Ox the ſturdy Youth prepare;
The Reaper's due Repaſt, the Women's Care.
[97]
Next, ripe in yellow Gold, a Vineyard ſhines,
Bent with the pond'rous Harveſt of its Vines;
A deaper Dye the dangling Cluſters ſhow,
And curl'd on ſilver Props, in order glow:
A darker Metal mixt, intrench'd the Place;
And Pales of glitt'ring Tin th'Encloſure grace.
To this, one Pathway gently winding leads,
Where march a Train with Baskets on their Heads,
(Fair Maids, and blooming Youths) that ſmiling bear
The purple Product of th'Autumnal Year.
To theſe a Youth awakes the warbling Strings,
Whoſe tender Lay the Fate of Linus ſings;
In meaſur'd Dance behind him move the Train,
Tune ſoft the Voice, and anſwer to the Strain.
Here, Herds of Oxen march, erect and bold,
Rear high their Horns, and ſeem to lowe in Gold,
And ſpeed to Meadows on whoſe ſounding Shores
A rapid Torrent thro' the Ruſhes roars:
Four golden Herdſmen as their Guardians ſtand,
And nine ſour Dogs compleat the ruſtic Band.
Two Lions ruſhing from the Wood appear'd;
And ſeiz'd a Bull, the Maſter of the Herd:
[98] He roar'd: in vain the Dogs, the Men withſtood,
They tore his Fleſh, and drank the ſable Blood.
The Dogs (oft' chear'd in vain) deſert the Prey,
Dread the grim Terrors, and at diſtance bay.
Next this, the Eye the Art of Vulcan leads
Deep thro' fair Foreſts, and a Length of Meads;
And Stalls, and Folds, and ſcatter'd Cotts between;
And fleecy Flocks, that whiten all the Scene.
A figur'd Dance ſucceeds: Such once was ſeen
In lofty Gnoſſus, for the Cretan Queen,
Form'd by Daedalean Art. A comely Band
Of Youths and Maidens, bounding Hand in Hand;
The Maids in ſoft Cymarrs of Linen dreſt;
The Youths all graceful in the gloſſy Veſt;
Of thoſe the Locks with flow'ry Wreaths inroll'd,
Of theſe the Sides adorn'd with Swords of Gold,
That glitt'ring gay, from ſilver Belts depend.
Now all at once they riſe, at once deſcend,
With well-taught Feet: Now ſhape, in oblique ways,
Confus'dly regular, the moving Maze:
Now forth at once, too ſwift for ſight, they ſpring,
And undiſtinguiſh'd blend the flying Ring:
[99] So whirls a Wheel, in giddy Circle toſt,
And rapid as it runs, the ſingle Spokes are loſt.
The gazing Multitudes admire around;
Two active Tumblers in the Center bound;
Now high, now low, their plaint Limbs they bend,
And gen'ral Songs the ſprightly Revel end.
Thus the broad Shield complete the Artiſt crown'd
With his laſt Hand, and pour'd the Ocean round:
In living Silver ſeem'd the Waves to roll,
And beat the Buckler's Verge, and bound the whole.
This done, whate'er a Warrior's Uſe requires
He forg'd; the Cuiraſs that outſhone the Fires;
The Greaves of ductile Tin, the Helm impreſt
With various Sculpture, and the golden Creſt.
At Thetis' Feet the finiſh'd Labour lay;
She, as a Falcon cuts th'Aerial way,
Swift from Olympus' ſnowy Summit flies,
And bears the blazing Preſent through the Skies.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE Eighteenth Book.
[]

Figure 1. The Shield of Achilles as describ'd in Homers 18th. Ilias. in Twelve Tables.•

Three of a Town in Peace. 1. a Marriage. 2. an aſsembly of ye People. 3. a Senate.

Three of a Town in War. 4. The Besieg'd making a Sally. 5. Shepherds & their Flocks falling into an ambuſcade. 6. a Combact.

Three of Agriculture. 7. Tillage. 8. Harvest. 9. a Vintage.

Three of a Pastoral Life. 10. Lions & Herds of Cattle. 11. Sheep. 12. the Dance.

 

Saml. Gribelin Junr. Sculp.


[103] OBSERVATIONS ON THE EIGHTEENTH BOOK.

[]

I.

‘VERSE 1. Thus like the Rage of Fire, &c.]’ This Phraſe is uſual in our Author, to ſignify a ſharp Battel fought with Heat and Fury on both parts; ſuch an Engagement like a Flame, preying upon all ſides, and dying the ſooner, the fiercer it burns. Euſtathius.

II.

‘VERSE 6. On hoiſted Yards.]’ The Epithet [...] in this Place has a more than ordinary Sgnification. It implies that the Sail-yards were hoiſted up, and Achilles's Ships on the point to ſet ſail. This ſhews that it was purely in Compliance to his Friend that he permitted him to ſuccour the Greeks; he meant to leave 'em as ſoon as Patroclus return'd; he ſtill remember'd what he told the Embaſſadors in the ninth Book; ℣. 360. To morrow you ſhall ſee my Fleet ſet ſail. Accordingly this is the Day appointed, and he is fix'd to his Reſolution: This Circumſtance wonderfully ſtrengthens his implacable Character.

III.

[104]

‘VERSE 7. Penſive he ſate.]’ Homer in this artful manner prepares Achilles for the fatal Meſſage, and gives him theſe Forebodings of his Misfortunes, that they might be no leſs than he expected.

His Expreſſions are ſuitable to his Concern, and deliver'd confuſedly. ‘"I bad him (ſays he) after he had ſav'd the Ships, and repuls'd the Trojans, to return back, and not engage himſelf too far."’ Here he breaks off, when he ſhould have added; ‘"But he was ſo unfortunate as to forget my Advice."’ As he is reaſoning with himſelf, Antilochus comes in, which makes him leave the Senſe imperfect. Euſtathius.

IV.

VERSE 15.
Fulfill'd is that Decree?
Slain is the Warrior? and Patroclus he!

It may be objected, that Achilles ſeems to contradict what had been ſaid in the foregoing Book, that Thetis conceal'd from her Son the Death of Patroclus in her Prediction. Whereas here he ſays, that ſhe had foretold he ſhould loſe the braveſt of the Theſſalians. There is nothing in this but what is natural and common among Mankind: And it is ſtill more agreeable to the haſty and inconſiderate Temper of Achilles, not to have made that Reflection till it was too late. Prophecies are only Marks of divine Preſcience, not Warnings to prevent human Misfortunes; for if they were, they muſt hinder their own Accompliſhment.

V.

‘VERSE 21. Sad Tydings, Son of Peleus!]’ This Speech of Antilochus ought to ſerve as a Model for the Brevity with which ſo dreadful a piece of News ought to be deliver'd; for in two Verſes it comprehends [105] the whole Affair, the Death of Patroclus, the Perſon that kill'd him, the Conteſt for his Body, and his Arms in the Poſſeſſion of the Enemy. Beſides, it ſhou'd be obſerv'd that Grief has ſo crowded his Words, that in theſe two Verſes he leaves the Verb [...], they fight, without its Nominative, the Greeks or Trojans. Homer obſerves this Brevity upon all the like Occaſions. The Greek Tragic Poets have not always imitated this Diſcretion. In great Diſtreſſes there is nothing more ridiculous than a Meſſenger who begins a long Story with pathetic Deſcriptions; he ſpeaks without being heard; for the Perſon to whom he addreſſes himſelf has no time to attend him: The firſt Word, which diſcovers to him his Misfortune, has made him deaf to all the reſt. Euſtathius.

VI.

‘VERSE 25. A ſudden Horrour, &c.]’ A modern French Writer has drawn a Parallel of the Conduct of Homer and Virgil, in relation to the Deaths of Patroclus and of Pallas. The latter is kill'd by Turnus, as the former by Hector; Turnus triumphs in the Spoils of the one, as Hector is clad in the Arms of the other; Aeneas revenges the Death of Pallas by that of Turnus, as Achilles the Death of Patroclus by that of Hector. The Grief of Achilles in Homer on the ſcore of Patroclus, is much greater than that of Aeneas in Virgil, for the ſake of Pallas. Achilles gives himſelf up to Deſpair with a Weakneſs which Plato could not pardon in him, and which can only be excus'd on account of the long and cloſe Friendſhip between 'em: That of Aeneas is more diſcreet, and ſeems more worthy of a Hero. It was not poſſible that Aeneas could be ſo deeply intereſted for any Man, as Achilles was intereſted for Patroclus: For Virgil had no Colour to kill Aſcanius, who was little more than a Child; beſides, that his Hero's Intereſt in the War of Italy was great enough of itſelf, not to need to be animated by ſo touching a Concern as the fear of loſing his Son. On the other hand, Achilles having but very little perſonal Concern in the War of [106] Troy (as he had told Agamemnon in the beginning of the Poem) and knowing, beſides, that he was to periſh there, required ſome very preſſing Motive to engage him to perſiſt in it, after ſuch Diſguſts and Inſults as he had received. It was this which made it neceſſary for theſe two great Poets to treat a Subject ſo much in their own Nature alike, in a manner ſo different. But as Virgil found it admirable in Homer, he was willing to approach it, as near as the Oeconomy of his Work would permit.

VII.

‘VERSE 27. Caſt on the Ground, &c.]’ This is a fine Picture of the Grief of Achilles: We ſee on the one hand, the Poſture in which the Hero receives the News of his Friend's Death; he falls upon the Ground, he rends his Hair, he ſnatches the Aſhes and caſts them on his Head, according to the manner of thoſe Times; (but what much enlivens it in this place, is his ſprinkling Embers inſtead of Aſhes in the Violence of his Paſſion.) On the other ſide, the Captives are running from their Tents, ranging themſelves about him, and anſwering to his Groans: Beſide him ſtands Antilochus, fetching deep Sighs, and hanging on the Arms of the Hero, for fear his Deſpair and Rage ſhould cauſe ſome deſperate Attempt upon his own Life: There is no Painter but will be touch'd with this Image.

VIII.

‘VERSE 33. The Virgin Captives.]’ The captive Maids lamented either in Pity for their Lord, or in Gratitude to the Memory of Patroclus, who was remarkable for his Goodneſs and Affability; or under theſe Pretences mourn'd for their own Misfortunes and Slavery. Euſtathius.

IX.

[107]

‘VERSE 75. Like ſome fair Plant, beneath my careful Hand.]’ This Paſſage, where the Mother compares her Son to a tender Plant, rais'd and preſerv'd with Care; has a moſt remarkable Reſemblance to that in the Pſalms, Thy Children like Branches of Olive Trees round thy Table. Pſal. 127.

X.

‘VERSE 100, 125. The two Speeches of Achilles to Thetis.]’ It is not poſſible to imagine more lively and beautiful Strokes of Nature and Paſſion, than thoſe which our Author aſcribes to Achilles throughout theſe admirable Speeches. They contain all, that the trueſt Friend, the moſt tender Son, and the moſt generous Hero, could think or expreſs in this delicate and affecting Circumſtance. He ſhews his Exceſs of Love to his Mother, by wiſhing he had never been born or known to the World, rather than ſhe ſhould have endur'd ſo many Sufferings on his account: He ſhews no leſs Love for his Friend, in reſolving to revenge his Death upon Hector, tho' his own would immediately follow. We ſee him here ready to meet his Fate for the ſake of his Friend, and in the Odyſſeis we find him wiſhing to live again only to maintain his Father's Honour againſt his Enemies: Thus he values neither Life nor Death, but as they conduce to the Good of his Friend and Parents, or the Encreaſe of his Glory.

After having calmly conſider'd the preſent State of his Life, he deliberately embraces his approaching Fate; and comforts himſelf under it, by a Reflection on thoſe great Men, whom neither their illuſtrious Actions, nor their Affinity to Heaven, could ſave from the general Doom. A Thought very natural to him, whoſe Buſineſs it was in Peace to ſing their Praiſes, and in War to imitate their Actions. Achilles, like a Man paſſionate of Glory, takes none but the fineſt Models; he thinks of Hercules, who was the [108] Son of Jupiter, and who had fill'd the Univerſe with the Noiſe of his immortal Actions: Theſe are the Sentiments of a real Hero. Euſtathius.

XI.

‘VERSE 137. Let me—But oh ye gracious Powers &c.]’ Achilles's Words are theſe; ‘"Now ſince I am never to return home, and ſince I lie here an uſeleſs Perſon, loſing my beſt Friend, and expoſing the Greeks to ſo many Dangers by my own Folly; I who am ſuperior to them all in Battel’—Here he breaks off, and ſays—May Contention periſh everlaſtingly, &c. Achilles leaves the Sentence thus ſuſpended, either becauſe in his Heat he had forgot what he was ſpeaking of, or becauſe he did not know how to end it; for he ſhould have ſaid,—‘"Since I have done all this, I'll periſh to revenge him:"’ Nothing can be finer than this ſudden Execration againſt Diſcord and Revenge, which breaks from the Hero in the deep Senſe of the Miſeries thoſe Paſſions had occaſion'd him.

Achilles could not be ignorant that he was ſuperior to others in Battel; and it was therefore no Fault in him to ſay ſo. But he is ſo ingenuous as to give himſelf no farther Commendation than what he undoubtedly merited; confeſſing at the ſame time, that many exceeded him in Speaking: Unleſs one may take this as ſaid in contempt of Oratory, not unlike that of Virgil,

Orabunt cauſſas meliùs—&c.

XII.

‘VERSE 153. Let me this inſtant.]’ I ſhall have time enough for inglorious Reſt when I am in the Grave, but now I muſt act like a living Hero: I ſhall indeed lie down in Death, but at the ſame time riſe higher in Glory. Euſtathius.

XIII.

[109]

‘VERSE 162. That all ſhall know, Achilles.]’ There is a great Streſs on [...] and [...]. They ſhall ſoon find that their Victories have been owing to the long Abſence of a Hero, and that Hero Achilles. Upon which the Ancients have obſerv'd, that ſince Achilles's Anger there paſt in reality but a few Days: To which it may be reply'd, that ſo ſhort a Time as this might well ſeem long to Achilles, who thought all unactive Hours tedious and inſupportable; and if the Poet himſelf had ſaid that Achilles was long abſent, he had not ſaid it becauſe a great many Days had paſt, but becauſe ſo great a Variety of Incidents had happen'd in that Time. Euſtathius.

XIV.

VERSE 217.—This Promiſe of Thetis to preſent her Son with a new Suit of Armour, was the moſt artful Method of hindering him from putting immediately in practice his Reſolutions of fighting, which according to his violent Manners, he muſt have done: Therefore the Interpoſition of Thetis here was abſolutely neceſſary; it was Dignus vindice nodus.

XV.

‘VERSE 219. Who ſends thee Goddeſs, &c.]’ Achilles is amazed, that a Moment after the Goddeſs his Mother had forbid him fighting, he ſhou'd receive a contrary Order from the Gods: Therefore he asks what God ſent her? Dacier.

XVI.

‘VERSE 226. Arms I have none.]’ It is here objected againſt Homer, that ſince Patroclus took Achilles' Armour, Achilles could not want Arms while he had thoſe of Patroclus; but [110] (beſides that Patroclus might have given his Armour to his Squire Automedon, the better to deceive the Trojans by making them take Automedon for Patroclus, as they took Patroclus for Achilles) this Objection may be very ſolidly anſwer'd by ſaying that Homer has prevented it, ſince he made Achilles's Armour fit Patroclus's Body not without a Miracle, which the Gods wrought in his Favour. Furthermore, it does not follow that becauſe the Armour of a large Man fits one that is ſmaller, the Armour of a little Man ſhou'd fit one that is larger. Euſtathius.

XVII.

‘VERSE 230. Except the mighty Telamonian Shield.]’ Achilles ſeems not to have been of ſo large a Stature as Ajax: Yet his Shield 'tis likely might be fit enough for him, becauſe his great Strength was ſufficient to wield it. This Paſſage, I think, might have been made uſe of by the Defenders of the Shield of Achilles againſt the Criticks, to ſhew that Homer intended the Buckler of his Hero for a very large one: And one would think he put it into this place, juſt a little before the Deſcription of that Shield, on purpoſe to obviate that Objection.

XVIII.

‘VERSE 236. But as thou art, unarm'd]’ A Hero ſo violent and ſo outragious as Achilles, and who had juſt loſt the Man he lov'd beſt in the World, is not likely to refuſe ſhewing himſelf to the Enemy, for the ſingle Reaſon of having no Armour. Grief and Deſpair in a great Soul are not ſo prudent and reſerv'd; but then on the other ſide, he is not to throw himſelf in the midſt of ſo many Enemies arm'd and fluſh'd with Victory. Homer gets out of this nice Circumſtance with great Dexterity, and gives to Achilles's Character every thing he ought to give it, without offending either againſt Reaſon or Probability. He judiciouſly feigns, that Juno ſent this Order to Achilles, for Juno is [111] the Goddeſs of Royalty, who has the Care of Princes and Kings; and who inſpires them with the Senſe of what they owe to their Dignity and Character. Dacier.

XIX.

‘VERSE 237. Let but Achilles o'er yon' Trench appear.]’ There cannot be a greater Inſtance, how conſtantly Homer carry'd his whole Deſign in his Head, as well as with what admirable Art he raiſes one great Idea upon another, to the higheſt Sublime, than this Paſſage of Achilles's Appearance to the Army, and the Preparations by which we are led to it. In the thirteenth Book, when the Trojans have the Victory, they check their Purſuit of it, in the mere Thought that Achilles ſees them: In the ſixteenth, they are put into the utmoſt Conſternation at the ſight of his Armour and Chariot: In the ſeventeenth, Menelaus and Ajax are in Deſpair, on the Conſideration that Achilles cannot ſuccour them for want of Armour: In the preſent Book, beyond all Expectation he does but ſhew him unarm'd, and the very Sight of him gives the Victory to Greece: How extremely noble is this Gradation!

XX.

‘VERSE 245. The Smokes high-curling.]’ For Fires in the Day appear nothing but Smoak, and in the Night Flames are viſible becauſe of the Darkneſs. And thus it is ſaid in Exodus, That God led his People in the Day with a Pillar of Smoak, and in the Night with a Pillar of Fire. Per Diem in Columna nubis, & per Noctem in Columna ignis. Dacier.

XXI.

‘VERSE 247. Seen from ſome Iſland.]’ Homer makes choice of a Town placed in an Iſland, becauſe ſuch a Place being beſieg'd has no other Means of making its Diſtreſs [112] known than by Signals of Fire; whereas a Town upon the Continent has other Means to make known to its Neighbours the Neceſſity it is in. Dacier.

XXII.

‘VERSE 259. As the loud Trumpets, &c.]’ I have already obſerv'd, that when the Poet ſpeaks as from himſelf, he may be allow'd to take his Compariſons from things which were not known before his Time. Here he borrows a Compariſon from the Trumpet, as he has elſewhere done from Saddle-Horſes, tho' neither one nor the other were us'd in Greece at the time of the Trojan War. Virgil was leſs exact in this reſpect, for he deſcribes the Trumpet as uſed in the ſacking of Troy,

Exoritur clamorque virûm clangorque tubarum.

And celebrates Miſenus as the Trumpeter of Aeneas. But as Virgil wrote at a time more remote from thoſe heroic Ages, perhaps this Liberty may be excuſed. But a Poet had better confine himſelf to Cuſtoms and Manners, like a Painter; and it is equally a Fault in either of them to aſcribe to Times and Nations any thing with which they were unacquainted.

One may add an Oſervation to this Note of M. Dacier, that the Trumpet's not being in uſe at that time, makes very much for Homer's Purpoſe in this Place. The Terror rais'd by the Voice of his Hero, is much the more ſtrongly imag'd by a Sound that was unuſual, and capable of ſtriking more from its very Novelty.

XXIII.

‘VERSE 315. If but the Morrow's Sun, &c.]’ Polydamas ſays in the Original, ‘"If Achilles comes to morrow in his Armour. There ſeems to lye an Objection againſt this Paſſage, [113] for Polydamas knew that Achilles's Armour was won by Hector, he muſt alſo know that no other Man's Armour would fit him; how then could he know that new Arms were made for him that very Night? Thoſe who are reſolv'd to defend Homer, may anſwer, it was by his Skill in Prophecy; but to me, this ſeems to be a Slip of our Author's Memory, and one of thoſe little Nods which Horace ſpeaks of.

XXIV.

‘VERSE 333. The Speech of Hector.]’ Hector in this ſevere Anſwer to Polydamas, takes up ſeveral of his Words and turns them another way.

Polydamas had ſaid [...], ‘"To Morrow by break of Day let us put on our Arms, and defend the Caſtles and City-Walls,"’ to which Hector replies, [...], ‘"To Morrow by break of Day let us put on our Arms, not to defend our ſelves at home, but to fight the Greeks before their own Ships.’

Polydamas, ſpeaking of Achilles, had ſaid [...], &c. ‘"if he comes after we are within the Walls of our City, 'twill be the worſe for him, for he may drive round the City long enough before he can hurt us."’ To which, Hector anſwers; ‘"If Achilles ſhould come [...], &c. 'Twill be "the worſe for him, as you ſay, becauſe I'll fight him: [...], ſays Hector, in reply to Polydamas's Saying, [...].’ But Hector is not ſo far gone in Paſſion or Pride, as to forget himſelf; and accordingly in the next Lines he modeſtly puts it in doubt, which of them ſhall conquer. Euſtathius.

XXV.

‘VERSE 340. Sunk were her Treaſures, and her Stores decay'd.]’ As well by reaſon of the Convoys, which were neceſſarily to be ſent for with ready Money; as by reaſon of the great [114] Allowances which were to be given to the auxiliary Troops, who came from Phrygia and Maeonia. Hector's Meaning is, that ſince all the Riches of Troy are exhauſted, it is no longer neceſſary to ſpare themſelves, or ſhut themſelves up within their Walls. Dacier.

XXVI.

‘VERSE 349. If there be one, &c,]’ This noble and generous Propoſal is worthy of Hector, and at the ſame time very artful to ingratiate himſelf with the Soldiers. Euſtathius farther obſerves that it is ſaid with an Eye to Polydamas, as accuſing him of being rich, and of not opening the Advice he had given, for any other End than to preſerve his great Wealth; for Riches commonly make Men Cowards, and the Deſire of ſaving them has often occaſion'd Men to give Advice very contrary to the publick Welfare.

XXVII.

‘VERSE 379. In what vain Promiſe.]’ The Lamentation of Achilles over the Body of Patroclus is exquiſitely touch'd: It is Sorrow in the extreme, but the Sorrow of Achilles. It is nobly uſher'd in by that Simile of the Grief of the Lion: An Idea which is fully anſwer'd in the ſavage and bloody Concluſion of this Speech. One would think by the Beginning of it, that Achilles did not know his Fate, till after his Departure from Opuntium; and yet how does that agree with what is ſaid of his Choice of the ſhort and active Life, rather than the long and inglorious one? Or did not he flatter himſelf ſometimes, that his Fate might be changed? This may be conjectur'd from ſeveral other Paſſages, and is indeed the moſt natural Solution.

XXVIII.

‘VERSE 404. Cleanſe the pale Corſe, &c.]’ This Cuſtom of waſhing the Dead, is continu'd amongſt the Greeks to this Day; and 'tis a pious Duty perform'd by the deareſt Friend [115] or Relation, to ſee it waſh'd and anointed with a Perfume, after which they cover it with Linen exactly in the manner here related.

XXIX.

‘VERSE 417. Jupiter and Juno.]’ Virgil has coppy'd the Speech of Juno to Jupiter. Aſt ego quae divûm incedo Regina, &c. But it is exceeding remarkable, that Homer ſhould upon every Occaſion make Marriage and Diſcord inſeperable: 'Tis an unalterable Rule with him, to introduce the Husband and Wife in a Quarrel.

XXX.

‘VERSE 440. Full twenty Tripods.]’ Tripods were Veſſels ſupported on three Feet, with Handles on the Sides; they were of ſeveral Kinds, and for ſeveral Uſes; ſome were conſecrated to Sacrifices, ſome uſed as Tables, ſome as Seats, others hung up as Ornaments on Walls of Houſes or Temples; theſe of Vulcan have an Addition of Wheels, which was not uſual, which intimates them to be made with Clockwork. Monſ. Dacier has commented very well on this Paſſage. If Vulcan (ſays he) had made ordinary Tripods, they had not anſwer'd the Greatneſs, Power, and Skill of a God. It was therefore neceſſary that his Work ſhould be above that of Men: To effect this, the Tripods were animated, and in this Homer doth not deviate from the Probability; for every one is fully perſuaded, that a God can do things more difficult than theſe, and that all Matter will obey him. What has not been ſaid of the Statues of Daedalus? Plato writes, that they walked alone, and if they had not taken care to tie them, they would have got looſe, and run from their Maſter. If a Writer in Proſe can ſpeak hyperbollically of a Man, may not Homer do it much more of a God? Nay, this Circumſtance with which Homer has embelliſh'd his Poem, would have had nothing too ſurprizing tho' theſe Tripods had been made by a Man; for what may not be done in Clock-work by an exact Management of Springs? [116] This Criticiſm is then ill grounded, and Homer does not deſerve the Ridicule they would caſt on him.

The ſame Author applies to this Paſſage of Homer that Rule of Ariſtotle, Poetic. Chap. 26. which deſerves to be alledged at large on this Occaſion.

‘"When a Poet is accus'd of ſaying any thing that is impoſſible; we muſt examine that Impoſſibility, either with reſpect to Poetry, with reſpect to that which is beſt, or with reſpect to common Fame. Firſt, with regard to Poetry, The Probable Impoſſible ought to be preferr'd to the Poſſible, which bath no Veriſimilitude, and which would not be believ'd; and 'tis thus that Zeuxis painted his Pieces. Secondly, with reſpect to that which is beſt, We ſee that a thing is moſt excellent and more wonderful this way, and that the Originals ought always to ſurpaſs. Laſtly, in reſpect to Fame, It is prov'd that the Poet need only follow common Opinion. All that appears abſurd may be alſo juſtify'd by one of theſe three ways; or elſe by the Maxim we have already laid down, that it is probable, that a great many things may happen againſt Probability."’

A late Critick has taken notice of the Conformity of this Paſſage of Homer with that in the firſt Chapter of Ezekiel, The Spirit of the living Creatures was in the Wheels; when thoſe went, theſe went, and when thoſe ſtood, theſe ſtood; and when thoſe were liſted up, the Wheels were lifted up over againſt them; for the Spirit of the living Creature was in the Wheels.

XXXI.

‘VERSE 450. A Footſtool at her Feet.]’ It is at this Day the uſual Honour paid amongſt the Greeks, to a Viſiter of ſupeperior Quality, to ſet them higher than the reſt of the Company, and put a Footſtool under their Feet. See Note 25. on Book 14. This, with innumerable other Cuſtoms, are ſtill preſerv'd in the Eaſtern Nations.

XXXII.

[117]

‘VERSE 460. Vulcan draw near, 'tis Thetis asks your Aid.]’ The Story the Ancients tell, of Plato's Application of this Verſe is worth obſerving. That great Philoſopher had in his Youth a ſtrong Inclination to Poetry, and not being ſatisfy'd to compoſe little Pieces of Gallantry and Amour, he tried his Forces in Tragedy and Epic Poetry; but the Succeſs was not anſwerable to his Hopes: He compared his Performance with that of Homer, and was very ſenſible of the Difference. He therefore abandon'd a ſort of Writing wherein at beſt he could only be the ſecond, and turn'd his Views to an other, wherein he deſpaired not to become the firſt. His Anger tranſported him ſo far, as to caſt all his Verſes into the Fire. But while he was burning them, he could not help citing a Verſe of the very Poet who had caus'd his Chagrin. It was the preſent Line, which Homer has put into the Mouth of Charis, when Thetis demands Arms for Achilles.

[...]

Plato only inſerted his own Name inſtead of that of Thetis.

Vulcan draw near, 'tis Plato asks your Aid.

If we credit the Ancients, it was the Diſcontentment his own Poetry gave him, that rais'd in him all the Indignation he afterwards expreſs'd againſt the Art itſelf. In which (ſay they) he behaved like thoſe Lovers, who ſpeak ill of the Beauties whom they cannot prevail upon. Fraguier, Parall. de Hom. & de Platon.

XXXIII.

‘VERSE 461. Thetis (reply'd the God) our Pow'rs may claim, &c.’ Vulcan throws by his Work to perform Thetis's Requeſt, who had laid former Obligations upon him; the Poet in this [118] Example giving us an excellent Precept, that Gratitude ſhould take place of all other Concerns.

The Motives which ſhould engage a God in a new Travel in the Night-time upon a Suit of Armour for a Mortal, ought to be ſtrong; and therefore artfully enough put upon the foot of Gratitude: Beſides, they afford at the ſame time a noble Occaſion for Homer to retail his Theology, which he is always very fond of.

The Allegory of Vulcan, or Fire (according to Heraclides) is this. His Father is Jupiter, or the Aether, his Mother Juno, or the Air, from whence he fell to us, whether by Lightning, or otherwiſe. He is ſaid to be lame, that is, to want Support, becauſe he cannot ſubſiſt without the continual Subſiſtance of Fuel. The Aetherial Fire, Homer calls Sol or Jupiter, the inferior Vulcan; the one wants nothing of Perfection, the other is ſubject to Decay, and is reſtor'd by Acceſſion of Materials. Vulcan is ſaid to fall from Heaven, becauſe at firſt, when the Opportunity of obtaining Fire was not ſo frequent, Men prepared Inſtruments of Braſs, by which they collected the Beams of the Sun; or elſe they gain'd it from accidental Lightning, that ſet fire to ſome combuſtible Matter. Vulcan had periſh'd when he fell from Heaven unleſs Thetis and Eurynome had received him; that is, unleſs he had been preſerv'd by falling into ſome convenient Receptacle, or ſubterranean Place; and ſo was afterwards diſtributed for the common Neceſſities of Mankind. To underſtand theſe ſtrange Explications, it muſt be known, that Thetis is deriv'd from [...] to lay up, and Eurynome from [...] and [...], a wide Diſtribution. They are call'd Daughters of the Ocean, becauſe the Vapours and Exhalations of the Sea forming themſelves into Clouds, find Nouriſhment for Lightnings.

XXXIV.

VERSE 488.
Two ſemale Forms,
That mov'd and breath'd in animated Gold.]

It is very probable, that Homer took the Idea of theſe from the Statues of Daedalus, which might be extant in his Time. [119] The Ancients tell us, they were made to imitate Life, in rolling their Eyes, and in all other Motions. From whence indeed it ſhould ſeem, that the Excellency of Daedalus conſiſted in what we call Clock-work, or the Management of moving Figures by Springs, rather than in Sculpture or Imagery: And accordingly, the Fable of his fitting Wings to himſelf and his Son, is form'd entirely upon the Foundation of the former.

XXXV.

‘VERSE 518. Robb'd of the Prize, &c.]’ Thetis to compaſs her Deſign, recounts every thing to the Advantage of her Son; ſhe therefore ſuppreſſes the Epiſode of the Embaſſy, the Prayers that had been made uſe of to move him, and all that the Greeks had ſuffer'd after the Return of the Ambaſſadors; and artfully puts together two very diſtant things, as if they had follow'd each other in the ſame Moment. He declin'd, ſays ſhe, to ſuccour the Greeks, but he ſent Patroclus. Now between his refuſing to help the Greeks, and his ſending Patroclus, terrible things had fallen out; but ſhe ſuppreſſes them, for fear of offending Vulcan with the recital of Achilles's inflexible Obduracy, and thereby create in that God an Averſion to her Son. Euſtathius.

XXXVI.

‘VERSE 526. Then ſlain by Phoebus (Hector had the Name)’ It is a Paſſage worth taking notice of, that Brutus is ſaid to have conſulted the Sortes Homericae, and to have drawn one of theſe Lines, wherein the Death of Patroclus is aſcribed to Apollo: After which, unthinkingly, he gave the Name of that God for the Word of Battel. This is remarked as an unfortunate Omen by ſome of the Ancients, tho' I forget where I met with it.

XXXVII.

‘VERSE 537. The Father of the Fires, &c.]’ The Ancients (ſays Euſtathius) have largely celebrated the philoſophical Myſteries [120] which they imagined to be ſhadowed under theſe Deſcriptions, eſpecially Damo (ſuppos'd the Daughter of Pythagoras) whoſe Explication is as follows. Thetis, who receives the Arms, means the apt Order and Diſpoſition of all things in the Creation. By the Fire and the Wind rais'd by the Bellows, are meant Air and Fire the moſt active of all the Elements. The Emanations of the Fire are thoſe golden Maids, that waited on Vulcan. The circular Shield is the World, being of a ſphaerical Figure. The Gold, the Braſs, the Silver, and the Tin are the Elements: Gold is Fire, the firm Braſs is Earth, the Silver is Air, and the ſoft Tin, Water. And thus far (ſay they) Homer ſpeaks a little obſcurely, but afterwards he names 'em expreſſly, [...], to which, for the fourth Element, you muſt add Vulcan, who makes the Shield. The extreme Circle that run round the Shield which he calls ſplendid and threefold, is the Zodiack; threefold for its Breadth, within which all the Planets move; ſplendid, becauſe the Sun paſſes always thro' the midſt of it. The ſilver Handle by which the Shield is faſtened at both Extremities, is the Axis of the World, imagin'd to paſs thro it, and upon which it turns. The five folds are thoſe parallel Circles that divide the World, the Polar, the Tropicks, and the Aequator.

Heraclides Ponticus thus purſues the Allegory. Homer (ſays he) makes the working of his Shield, that is the World, to be begun by Night, as indeed all Matter lay undiſtinguiſh'd in an original and univerſal Night; which is called Chaos by the Poets.

To bring the matter of the Shield to Separation and Form, Vulcan preſides over the Work, or as we may ſay, an eſſential Warmth: All things, ſays Heraclitus, being made by the Operation of Fire.

And becauſe the Architect is at this time to give a Form and Ornament to the World he is making, it is not raſhly that he is ſaid to be married to one of the Graces.

On the broad Shield the Maker's Hand engraves
The Earth and Seas beneath, the Pole above,
The Sun unwearied, and the circled Moon.

[121] Thus in the Beginning of the World, he firſt lays the Earth as the Foundation of a Building, whoſe Vacancies are fill'd up with the Flowings of the Sea. Then he ſpreads out the Sky for a kind of divine Roof over it, and lights the Elements, now ſeparated from their former Confuſion, with the Sun, the Moon,

And all thoſe Stars that crown the Skies with Fire:

Where, by the Word crown, which gives the Idea of Roundneſs, he again hints at the Figure of the World; and tho' he cou'd not particularly name the Stars like Aratus (who profeſs'd to write upon them) yet he has not omitted to mention the principal. From hence he paſſes to repreſent two Allegorical Cities, one of Peace, the other of War; Empedocles ſeems to have taken from Homer his Aſſertion, that all Things had their Original from Strife and Friendſhip.

All theſe Refinements (not to call 'em abſolute Whimſies) I leave juſt as I found 'em, to the Reader's Judgment or Mercy.

XXXVIII.

‘VERSE 566. Nor bends his blazing Forehead to the Main.]’ The Criticks have made uſe of this Paſſage, to prove that Homer was ignorant of Aſtronomy; ſince he believ'd, that the Bear was the only Conſtellation which never bathed itſelf in the Ocean, that is to ſay that did not ſet, and was always viſible; for ſay they, this is common to other Conſtellations of the Artick Circle, as the leſſer Bear, the Dragon, the greateſt part of Cepheus, &c. To ſalve Homer, Ariſtotle anſwers, That he calls it the only one, to ſhew that 'tis the only one of thoſe Conſtellations he had ſpoken of, or that he has put the only, for the principal or the moſt known. Strabo juſtifies this after another manner, in the Beginning of his firſt Book, ‘"Under the Name of the Bear and the Chariot, Homer comprehends all the Artick Circle; for there being ſeveral other Stars in that Circle which never ſet, he could not ſay, that the Bear was the only [122] one which did not bath itſelf in the Ocean; wherefore thoſe are deceived, who accuſe the Poet of Ignorance, as if he knew one Bear only when there are two; for the leſſer was not found out in his Time. The Phoenicians were the firſt who obſerv'd it and made uſe of it in their Navigation; and the Figure of that Sign paſſed from them to the Greeks: The ſame thing happen'd in regard to the Conſtellation of Berenice's Hair, and that of Canopus, which receiv'd thoſe Names very lately; and as Aratus ſays well, there are ſeveral other Stars which have no Names. Crates was then in the wrong to endeavour to correct this Paſſage, in putting [...] for [...], for he tries to avoid that which there is no occaſion to avoid. Heraclitus did better, who put the Bear for the Artick Circle as Homer has done. The Bear (ſays he) is the Limit of the riſing and ſetting of the Stars."’ Now it is the Artic Circle, and not the Bear which is that Limit. ‘"'Tis therefore evident, that by the Word Bear, which he calls the Waggon, and which he ſays obſerves Orion, he underſtands the Artick Circle; that by the Ocean he means the Horizon where the Stars riſe and ſet; and by thoſe Words, which turns in the ſame place, and doth not bath itſelf in the Ocean, he ſhews that the Artick Circle is the moſt Northern Part of the Horizon, &c. Dacier on Ariſt.

Monſ. Teraſſon combates this Paſſage with great Warmth. But it will be a ſufficient Vindication of our Author to ſay, that ſome other Conſtellations, which are likewiſe perpetually above the Horizon in the Latitude where Homer writ, were not at that time diſcovered; and that whether Homer knew that the Bear's not ſetting was occaſion'd by the Latitude, and that in a ſmaller Latitude it would ſet, is of no conſequence; for if he had known it, it was ſtill more poetical not to take notice of it.

XXXIX.

‘VERSE 467. Two Cities, &c.]’ In one of theſe Cities are repreſented all the Advantages of Peace: And it was impoſſible [123] to have choſen two better Emblems of Peace, than Marriages and Juſtice. 'Tis ſaid this City was Athens, for Marriages were firſt inſtituted there by Cecrops; and Judgment upon Murder was firſt founded there. The ancient State of Attica ſeems repreſented in the neighbouring Fields, where the Ploughers and Reapers are at work, and a King is overlooking them; for Triptolemus who reigned there, was the firſt who ſowed Corn: This was the Imagination of Agallias Cercyreus, as we find him cited by Euſtathius.

XL.

‘VERSE 579. The Fine diſcharg'd.]’ Murder was not always puniſh'd with Death, or ſo much as Baniſhment; but when ſome Fine was paid, the Criminal was ſuffer'd to remain in the City. So Iliad 9.

[...]
[...]
[...]

—If a Brother bleed,
On juſt Atonement, we remit the Deed;
A Sire the Slaughter of his Son forgives,
The Price of Blood diſcharg'd, the Murd'rer lives.

XLI.

‘VERSE 590. The Prize of him who beſt adjudg'd the Right.]’ Euſtathius informs us, that it was anciently the Cuſtom to have a Reward given to that Judge who pronounced the beſt Sentence. M. Dacier oppoſes this Authority, and will have it, that this Reward was given to the Perſon who upon the Deciſion of the Suit appear'd to have the juſteſt Cauſe. The Difference between theſe two Cuſtoms, in the Reaſon of the thing, is very great: For the one muſt have been an Encouragement to Juſtice, the other a Provocation to Diſſenſion. [124] It were to be wanting in a due Reverence to the Wiſdom of the Ancients, and of Homer in particular, not to chuſe the former Senſe: And I have the Honour to be confirmed in this Opinion, by the ableſt Judge, as well as the beſt Practiſer, of Equity, my Lord Harcourt, at whoſe Seat I tranſlated this Book.

XLII.

‘VERSE 591. Another Part (a Proſpect diff'rent far, &c.]’ The ſame Agallias, cited above, would have this City in War to be meant of Eleuſina, but upon very ſlight Reaſons. What is wonderful is, that all the Accidents and Events of War are ſet before our Eyes in this ſhort Compaſs. The ſeveral Scenes are excellently diſpos'd to repreſent the whole Affair. Here is in the ſpace of thirty Lines a Siege, a Sally, an Ambuſh, the Surprize of a Convoy, and a Battel; with ſcarce a ſingle Circumſtance proper to any of theſe, omitted.

XLIII.

‘VERSE 627. A Field deep-furrow'd, &c.]’ Here begin the Deſcriptions of rural Life, in which Homer appears as great a Maſter as in the great and terrible Parts of Poetry. One wou'd think, he did this on purpoſe to rival his Contemporary Heſiod, on thoſe very Subjects to which his Genius was particularly bent. Upon this Occaſion, I muſt take notice of that Greek Poem, which is commonly aſcribed to Heſiod under the Title of [...]. Some of the Ancients mention ſuch a Work as Heſiod's, but that amounts to no Proof that this is the ſame: Which indeed is not an expreſs Poem upon the Shield of Hercules, but Fragment of the Story of that Hero. What regards the Shield is a manifeſt Copy from this of Achilles; and conſequently it is not of Heſiod. For if he was not more Ancient, he was at leaſt Contemporary with Homer: And neither of them could be ſuppoſed to borrow ſo ſhameleſly from the other, not only the Plan of entire Deſcriptions, (as [125] thoſe of the Marriage, the Harveſt, the Vineyard, the Ocean round the Margin, &c.) but alſo whole Verſes together: Thoſe of the Parca in the Battel, are repeated Word for Word,

[...]
[...]
[...]
[...]

And indeed half the Poem is but a ſort of Cento compos'd out of Homer's Verſes. The Reader needs only caſt an Eye on theſe two Deſcriptions, to ſee the vaſt Difference of the Original and the Copy; and I dare ſay he will readily agree with the Sentiment of Monſieur Dacier, in applying to them that famous Verſe of Sannazarius,

Illum hominem dices, hunc poſuiſſe Deum.

XLIV.

VERSE id.] I ought not to forget the many apparent Alluſions to the Deſcriptions on this Shield, which are to be found in thoſe Pictures of Peace and War, the City and Countrey, in the eleventh Book of Milton: Who was doubtleſs fond of any Occaſion to ſhew, how much he was charm'd with the Beauty of all theſe lively Images. He makes his Angel paint thoſe Objects which he ſhews to Adam, in the Colours, and almoſt the very Strokes of Homer. Such is that Paſſage of the Harveſt-field,

His Eye he open'd, and beheld a Field
Part Arable and Tilth, whereon were Sheaves
New-reap'd; the other Part Sheep-walks and Folds.
In midſt an Altar, as the Landmark, ſtood,
Ruſtic, of graſſy ſord, &c.

That of the Marriages,

They light the nuptial Torch, and bid invoke
Hymen (then firſt to marriage Rites invok'd)
With Feaſt and Muſick all the Tents reſound.

[126] But more particularly, the following Lines are in a manner a Tranſlation of our Author.

One way, a Band ſelect from Forage drives
A Herd of Beeves, fair Oxen, and fair Kine
From a fat Meadow-ground; or fleecy Flock,
Ewes and their bleating Lambs, acroſs the Plain,
Their Booty: Scarce with Life the Shepherds fly,
But call in Aid, which makes a bloody Fray,
With cruel Tournament the Squadrons join
Where Cattel paſtur'd late, now ſcatter'd lies
With Carcaſſes and Arms th'enſanguin'd Field
Deſerted.—Others to a City ſtrong
Lay ſiege, encamp'd; by Battery, Scale, and Mine
Aſſaulting; others from the Wall defend
With Dart and Jav'lin, Stones, and ſulph'rous Fire:
On each hand Slaughter and gigantic Deeds.
In other part, the ſcepter'd Heralds call
To Council in the City Gates: anon
Grey-headed Men and grave, with Warriors mixt,
Aſſemble, and Harangues are heard—

XLV.

‘VERSE 645. The ruſtic Monarch of the Field.]’ Dacier takes this to be a piece of Ground given to a Hero in reward of his Services. It was in no reſpect unworthy ſuch a Perſon, in thoſe Days, to ſee his Harveſt got in, and to overlook his Reapers: It is very conformable to the Manners of the ancient Patriarchs, ſuch as they are deſcrib'd to us in the Holy Scriptures.

XLVI.

‘VERLE 662. The Fate of Linus.]’ There are two Interpretations of this Verſe in the Original: That which I have choſen is confirm'd by the Teſtimony of Herodotus lib. 2. and [127] Pauſanias, Boeoticis. Linus was the moſt ancient Name in Poetry, the firſt upon Record who invented Verſe and Meaſure among the Grecians: He paſt for the Son of Apollo or Mercury, and was Praeceptor to Hercules, Thamyris, and Orpheus. There was a ſolemn Cuſtom among the Greeks of bewailing annually the Death of their firſt Poet: Pauſanias informs us, that before the yearly Sacrifice to the Muſes on Mount Helicon, the Obſequies of Linus were perform'd, who had a Statue and Altar erected to him, in that Place. Homer alludes to that Cuſtom in this Paſſage, and was doubtleſs fond of paying this Reſpect to the old Father of Poetry. Virgil has done the ſame in that Fine Celebration of him, Eclog. 6.

Tum canit errantem Permeſſi ad flumina Gallum,
Utque viro Phoebi chorus aſſurrexerit omnis;
Ut Linus haec illi, divino carmine, paſtor
(Floribus atque apio crines ornatus amaro)
Dixerit—&c.

And again in the fourth Eclog.

Non me carminibus vincet nec Thracius Orpheus,
Nec Linus; huic Mater, quamvis at (que) huic Pater adſit,
Orpheo Calliopea, Lino formoſus Apollo.

XLVII.

‘VERSE 681. A figur'd Dance.]’ There were two ſorts of Dances, the Pyrrhick, and the common Dance: Homer has joyn'd both in this Deſcription. We ſee the Pyrrhick, or Military, is perform'd by the Youths who have Swords on, the other by the Virgins crown'd with Garlands.

Here the ancient Scholiaſts ſay, that whereas before it was the Cuſtom for Men and Women to dance ſeparately, the contrary Practice was afterwards brought in, by ſeven Youths, and as many Virgins, who were ſav'd by Theſeus from the Labyrinth; and that this Dance was taught them by Daedalus: [128] To which Homer here alludes. See Dion. Halic. Hiſt. l. 7. c. 68.

It is worth obſerving that the Grecian Dance is ſtill perform'd in this manner in the Oriental Nations: The Youths and Maids dance in a Ring, beginning ſlowly; by Degrees the Muſick plays a quicker time, till at laſt they dance with the utmoſt Swiftneſs: And towards the Concluſion, they ſing (as it is ſaid here) in a general Chorus.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE SHIELD of ACHILLES.

[129]

THE Poet intending to ſhew in its full Luſtre, his Genius for Deſcription, makes choice of this Interval from Action and the Leiſure of the Night, to diſplay that Talent at large in the famous Buckler of Achilles. His Intention was no leſs, than to draw the Picture of the whole World in the Compaſs of this Shield. We firſt ſee the Univerſe in general; the Heavens are ſpread, the Stars are hung up, the Earth is ſtretched forth, the Seas are pour'd round: We next ſee the World in a nearer and more particular view; the Cities, delightful in Peace, or formidable in War; the Labours of the Countrey, and the Fruit of thoſe Labours, in the Harveſts and the Vintages; the Paſtoral Life in its Pleaſures and its Dangers: In a word, all the Occupations, all the Ambitions, and all the Diverſions of Mankind. This noble and comprehenſive Deſign he has executed in a manner that challeng'd the Admiration of all the Ancients: And how right an Idea they had of this grand Deſign, may be judg'd from that Verſe of Ovid, Met. 13. where he calls it

—Clypeus vaſti coelatus imagine mundi.

[130] It is indeed aſtoniſhing how after this the Arrogance of ſome Moderns could unfortunately chuſe the nobleſt Part of the nobleſt Poet for the Object of their blind Criticiſms.

I deſign to give the Reader the Sum of what has been ſaid on this Subject. Firſt, a Reply to the looſe and ſcatter'd Objections of the Criticks, by M. Dacier: Then the regular Plan and Diſtribution of the Shield, by Monſ. Boivin: And laſtly, I ſhall attempt what has not yet been done, to conſider it as a Work of Painting, and prove it in all reſpects conformable to the moſt juſt Ideas and eſtabliſh'd Rules of that Art.

I.

It is the Fate (ſays M. Dacier) of theſe Arms of Achilles, to be ſtill the Occaſion of Quarrels and Diſputes. Julius Scaliger was the firſt who appear'd againſt this Part, and was follow'd by a whole Herd. Theſe object in the firſt place, that 'tis impoſſible to repreſent the Movement of the Figures; and in condemning the manner, they take the Liberty to condemn alſo the Subject, which they ſay is trivial, and not well underſtood. 'Tis certain that Homer ſpeaks of the Figures on this Buckler, as if they were alive: And ſome of the Ancients taking his Expreſſions to the Strictneſs of the Letter, did really believe that they had all ſorts of Motion. Euſtathius ſhewed the Abſurdity of that Sentiment by a Paſſage of Homer himſelf, ‘"That Poet, ſays he, to ſhew that his Figures are not animated, as ſome have pretended by an exceſſive Affection for the Prodigious, took care to ſay that they moved and fought, as if they were living Men."’ The Ancients certainly founded this ridiculous Opinion on a Rule of Ariſtotle: For they thought the Poet could not make his Deſcription more admirable and marvellous, than in making his Figures animated, ſince (as Ariſtotle ſays) the Original ſhould always excel the Copy. That Shield is the Work of a God: 'Tis the Original, of which the Engraving and Painting of Men is but an imperfect Copy; and there is nothing impoſſible to the Gods. But they did not perceive, that by this Homer would have [131] fallen into an extravagant Admirable which would not have been probable. Therefore, 'tis without any Neceſſity Euſtathius adds, ‘"That 'tis poſſible all thoſe Figures did not ſtick cloſe to the Shield, but that they were detach'd from it, and mov'd by Springs, in ſuch a manner that they appear'd to have Motion; as Aeſchylus has feign'd ſomething like it, in his ſeven Captains againſt Thebes."’ But without having recourſe to that C0onjecture, we can ſhew that there is nothing more ſimple and natural than the Deſcription of that Shield, and there is not one Word which Homer might not have ſaid of it, if it had been the Work of a Man; for there is a great deal of difference between the Work itſelf, and the Deſcription of it.

Let us examine the Particulars for which they blame Homer. They ſay he deſcribes two Towns on his Shield which ſpeak different Languages. 'Tis the Latin Tranſlation, and not Homer, that ſays ſo; the Word [...], is a common Epithet of Men, and which ſignifies only, that they have an articulate Voice. Theſe Towns could not ſpeak different Languages, ſince, as the Ancients have remarked, they were Athens and Eleuſina, both which ſpake the ſame Language. But tho' that Epithet ſhould ſignify, which ſpake different Languages, there would be nothing very ſurprizing; for Virgil ſaid what Homer it ſeems muſt not:

Victae longo ordine gentes,
Quam variae linguis.—
Aen. 8.

If a Painter ſhould put into a Picture one Town of France and another of Flanders, might not one ſay they were two Towns which ſpake different Languages?

Homer (they tell us) ſays in another place; that we hear the Harangues of two Pleaders. This is an unfair Exaggeration: He only ſays, Two Men pleaded, that is, were repreſented pleading. Was not the ſame ſaid by Pliny of Nicomachus, that he had painted two Greeks, which ſpake one after another? Can we expreſs ourſelves otherwiſe of theſe two Arts, which tho' they are mute, yet have a Language? [132] Or in explaining a Painting of Raphael or Pouſſin, can we prevent animating the Figures, in making them ſpeak conformably to the Deſign of the Painter? But how could the Engraver repreſent thoſe young Shepherds and Virgins that dance firſt in a Ring, and then in Setts? Or thoſe Troops which were in Ambuſcade? This would be difficult indeed if the Workman had not the Liberty to make his Perſons appear in different Circumſtances. All the Objections againſt the young Man who ſings at the ſame time that he plays on the Harp, the Bull that roars whilſt he is devoured by a Lion, and againſt the muſical Conſorts, are childiſh; for we can never ſpeak of Painting if we baniſh thoſe Expreſſions. Pliny ſays of Apelles, that he painted Clytus on Horſeback going to Battel, and demanding his Helmet of his Squire: Of Ariſtides, that he drew a Beggar whom we could almoſt underſtand, pene cum voce: Of Cteſilochus, that he had painted Jupiter bringing forth Bacchus, and crying out like a Woman, & muliebriter ingemiſcentem: And of Nicearchus, that he had drawn a Piece, in which Hercules was ſeen very melancholy for having been a Fool, Herculem triſtem, Inſaniae poenitentiâ. No one ſure will condemn thoſe ways of Expreſſion which are ſo common. The ſame Author has ſaid much more of Apelles, he tells us, he painted thoſe things which could not be painted, as Thunder; Pinxit quae pingi non poſſunt: And of Timanthus, that in all his Works there was ſomething more underſtood than was ſeen; and tho' there was all the Art imaginable, yet there was ſtill more Ingenuity than Art: Atque in omnibus ejus operibus, intelligitur plus ſemper quàm pingitur; & cùm Ars ſumma ſit, Ingenium tamen ultra Artem eſt. If we take the pains to compare theſe Expreſſions with thoſe of Homer, we ſhall find him altogether excuſable in his Manner of deſcribing the Buckler.

We come now to the Matter. If this Shield (ſays a modern Critick) had been made in a wiſer Age, it would have been more correct and leſs charg'd with Objects. There are two things which cauſe the Cenſurers to fall into this falſe Criticiſm: The firſt is, that they think the Shield was no broader than the brims of a Hat, whereas it was large enough [133] to cover a whole Man. The other is, that they did not know the Deſign of the Poet, and imagined this Deſcription was only the Whimſy of an irregular Wit, who did it by chance, and not following Nature; for they never ſo much as enter'd into the Intention of the Poet, nor knew the Shield was deſign'd as a Repreſentation of the Univerſe.

'Tis happy that Virgil has made a Buckler for Aeneas, as well as Homer for Achilles. The Latin Poet, who imitated the Greek one, always took care to accommodate thoſe things which Time had chang'd, ſo as to render them agreeable to the Palate of his Readers; yet he hath not only charg'd his Shield with a great deal more Work, ſince he paints all the Actions of the Romans from Aſcanius to Auguſtus; but has not avoided any of thoſe manners of Expreſſion which offend the Criticks. We ſee there the Wolf of Romulus and Remus, who gives them her Dugs one after another, Mulcere alternos, & Corpora fingere Linguâ: The Rape of the Sabines and the War which follow'd it, ſubitoque novum conſurgere Bellum: Metius torn by four Horſes, and Tullus who draws his Entrails thro' the Foreſt: Porſenna commanding the Romans to receive Tarquin, and beſieging Rome: The Geeſe flying to the Porches of the Capitol, and giving notice by their Cries of the Attack of the Gauls.

At (que) hic auratis volitans argenteus Anſer,
Porticibus, Gallos in Limine adeſſe canebat.

We ſee the Salian Dance, Hell, and the Pains of the Damn'd; and farther off, the Place of the Bleſſed, where Cato preſides: We ſee the famous Battel of Actium, where we may diſtinguiſh the Captains: Agrippa with the Gods, and the Winds favourable; and Anthony leading on all the Forces of the Eaſt, Egypt, and the Bactrians: The Fight begins, The Sea is red with Blood, Cleopatra gives the Signal for a Retreat, and calls her Troops with a Syſtrum. Patrio vocat agmina Syſtro. The Gods, or rather the Monſters of Egypt, fight againſt Neptune, Venus, Minerva, Mars and Apollo: We ſee Anthony's Fleet beaten, and the Nile ſorrowfully opening [134] his Boſom to receive the Conquer'd: Cleopatra looks pale and almoſt dead at the Thought of that Death ſhe had already determined; nay we ſee the very Wind Iapis, which haſtens her Flight: We ſee the three Triumphs of Auguſtus; that Prince conſecrates three hundred Temples, the Altars are fill'd with Ladies offering up Sacrifices, Auguſtus ſitting at the Entrance of Apollo's Temple, receives Preſents, and hangs them on the Pillars of the Temple; while all the conquer'd Nations paſs by, who ſpeak different Languages, and are differently equipp'd and arm'd.

—Incedunt victae longo ordine Gentes,
Quam variae Linguis, habitu tum veſtis & armis.

Nothing can better juſtify Homer, or ſhew the Wiſdom and Judgment of Virgil: He was charm'd with Achilles's Shield, and therefore would give the ſame Ornament to his Poem. But as Homer had painted the Univerſe, he was ſenſible that nothing remain'd for him to do; he had no other way to take than that of Prophecy, and ſhew what the Deſcendant of his Hero ſhould perform; and he was not afraid to go beyond Homer, becauſe there is nothing improbable in the Hands of a God. If the Criticks ſay, that this is juſtifying one Fault by another; I deſire they would agree among themſelves; for Scaliger, who was the firſt that condemn'd Homer's Shield, admires Virgil's; but ſuppoſe they ſhould agree, 'twould be fooliſh to endeavour to perſuade us, that what Homer and Virgil have done by the Approbation of all Ages, is not good; and to make us think that their particular Taſte ſhould prevail over that of all other Men. Nothing is more ridiculous than to trouble one's ſelf to anſwer Men, who ſhew ſo little Reaſon in their Criticiſms, that we can do them no greater Favour, than to aſcribe it to their Ignorance.

Thus far the Objections are anſwer'd by Monſ. Dacier. Since when, ſome others have been ſtarted, as that the Objects repreſented on the Buckler have no reference to the Poem, no Agreement with Thetis who procur'd it, Vuloan who made it, or Achilles for whom it was made.

[135] To this it is reply'd, that the Repreſentation of the Sea was agreeable enough to Thetis; that the Spheres and celeſtial Fires were ſo to Vulcan; (tho' the truth is, any piece of Workmanſhip was equally fit to come from the Hands of this God) and that the Images of a Town beſieg'd, a Battel, and an Ambuſcade, were Objects ſufficiently proper for Achilles. But after all, where was the Neceſſity that they ſhould be ſo? They had at leaſt been as fit for one Hero as for another; and Aeneas, as Virgil tells us, knew not what to make of the Figures on his Shield.

Rerumque Ignarus, imagine gaudet.
II.

But ſtill the main Objection, and that in which the Vanity of the Moderns has triumph'd the moſt, is, that the Shield is crowded with ſuch a Multiplicity of Figures, as could not poſſibly be repreſented in the Compaſs of it. The late Diſſertation of Monſ. Boivin has put an end to this Cavil, and the Reader will have the Pleaſure to be convinced of it by ocular Demonſtration, in the Print annexed.

This Author ſuppoſes the Buckler to have been perfectly round: He divides the convex Surface into four concentrick Circles.

The Circle next the Center contains the Globe of the Earth and the Sea, in miniature; He gives this Circle the Dimenſion of three Inches.

The ſecond Circle is allotted for the Heavens and the Stars: He allows the Space of ten Inches between this, and the former Circle.

The third ſhall be eight Inches diſtant from the ſecond. The Space between theſe two Circles ſhall be divided into twelve Compartiments, each of which makes a Picture of ten or eleven Inches deep.

The fourth Circle makes the Margin of the Buckler: And the Interval between this and the former, being of three Inches, is ſufficient to repreſent the Waves and Currents of the Ocean.

[136] All theſe together make but four Foot in the whole in Diameter. The Print of theſe Circles and Diviſions will ſerve to prove, that the Figures will neither be crowded nor confuſed, if diſpoſed in the proper Place and Order.

As to the Size and Figure of the Shield, it is evident from the Poets, that in the time of the Trojan War there were Shields of an extraordinary Magnitude. The Buckler of Ajax is often compar'd by Homer to a Tower, and in the ſixth Iliad that of Hector is deſcribed to cover him from the Shoulders to the Ankles.

[...]
[...]
℣. 117.

In the ſecond Verſe of the Deſcription of this Buckler of Achilles, it is ſaid that Vulcan caſt round it a radiant Circle.

[...]
℣. 479.

Which proves the Figure to have been round. But if it be alledg'd that [...] as well ſignifies oval as circular, it may be anſwer'd, that the circular Figure better agrees to the Spheres repreſented in the Center, and to the Courſe of the Ocean at the Circumference.

We may very well allow four Foot Diameter to this Buckler: As one may ſuppoſe a larger Size would have been too unwieldy, ſo a leſs would not have been ſufficient to cover the Breaſt and Arm of a Man of a Stature ſo large as Achilles.

In allowing four Foot Diameter to the whole each of the twelve Compartiments may be of ten or eleven Inches in Depth, which will be enough to contain, without any Confuſion, all the Objects which Homer mentions. Indeed in this Print, each Compartiment being but of one Inch, the principal Figures only are repreſented; but the Reader may eaſily imagine the Advantage of nine or ten Inches more. However, if the Criticks are not yet ſatisfy'd there is room enough, it is but taking in the literal Senſe the Words [...], with which Homer begins his [137] Deſcription, and the Buckler may be ſuppos'd engraven on both Sides, which Suppoſition will double the Size of each Piece: The one ſide may ſerve for the general Deſcription of Heaven and Earth, and the other for all the Particulars.

III.
[138]

IT having been now ſhewn, that the Shield of Homer is blameleſs as to its Deſign and Diſpoſition, and that the Subject (ſo extenſive as it is) may be contracted within the due Limits; not being one vaſt unproportion'd Heap of Figures, but divided into twelve regular Compartiments. What remains, is to conſider this Piece as a complete Idea of Painting, and a Sketch for what one may call an univerſal Picture. This is certainly the Light in which it is chiefly to be admired, and in which alone the Criticks have neglected to place it.

There is reaſon to believe that Homer did in this, as he has done in other Arts, (even in Mechanicks) that is, comprehend whatever was known of it in his Time; if not (as is highly probable) from thence extend his Ideas yet farther, and give a more enlarged Notion of it. Accordingly it is very obſervable, that there is ſcarce a Species or Branch of this Art which is not here to be found, whether Hiſtory, Battel-Painting, Landskip, Architecture, Fruits, Flowers, Animals, &c.

I think it poſſible that Painting was arrived to a greater Degree of Perfection, even at that early Period, than is generally ſuppoſed by thoſe who have written upon it. Pliny expreſly ſays, that it was not known in the time of the Trojan War. The ſame Author, and others, repreſent it in a very imperfect State in Greece, in, or near the Days of Homer. They tell us of one Painter, that he was the firſt who begun to ſhadow; and of another, that he fill'd his Outlines only with a ſingle Colour, and that laid on every where alike: But we may have a higher Notion of the Art, from thoſe Deſcriptions of Statues, Carvings, Tapeſtrys, Sculptures upon Armour, and Ornaments of all kinds, which every where occur in our Author; as well as from what he ſays of their Beauty, the Relievo, and their Emulation of Life itſelf. If we conſider how much it is his conſtant Practice to confine himſelf to the Cuſtom of the Times whereof he writ, it will be hard to doubt but that Painting and Sculpture muſt have been then in great Practice and Repute.

[139] The Shield is not only deſcrib'd as a Piece of Sculpture but of Painting; the Outlines may be ſuppos'd engraved, and the reſt enamel'd, or inlaid with various-colour'd Metals. The Variety of Colours is plainly diſtinguiſh'd by Homer, where he ſpeaks of the Blackneſs of the new-open'd Earth, of the ſeveral Colours of the Grapes and Vines; and in other Places. The different Metals that Vulcan is feign'd to caſt into the Furnace, were ſufficient to afford all the neceſſary Colours: But if to thoſe which are natural to the Metals, we add alſo thoſe which they are capable of receiving from the Operation of Fire, we ſhall find, that Vulcan had as great a Variety of Colours to make uſe of as any modern Painter. That Enamelling, or fixing Colours by Fire, was practiſed very anciently, may be conjectur'd from what Diodorus reports of one of the Walls of Babylon, built by Semiramis, that the Bricks of it were painted before they were burn'd, ſo as to repreſent all ſorts of Animals. lib. 2. chap. 4. Now it is but natural to infer, that Men had made uſe of ordinary Colours for the Repreſentation of Objects, before they learnt to repreſent them by ſuch as are given by the Operation of Fire; one being much more eaſy and obvious than the other, and that ſort of Painting by means of Fire being but an Imitation of the Painting with a Pencil and Colours. The ſame Inference will be farther enforc'd from the Works of Tapeſtry, which the Women of thoſe Times interweaved with many Colours; as appears from the Deſcription of that Veil which Hecuba offers to Minerva in the ſixth Iliad, and from a Paſſage in the twenty ſecond where Andromache is repreſented working Flowers in a Piece of this kind. They muſt certainly have known the Uſe of the Colours themſelves for Painting, before they could think of dying Threads with thoſe Colours, and weaving thoſe Threads cloſe to one another, in order only to a more laborious Imitation of a thing ſo much more eaſily perform'd by a Pencil. This Obſervation I owe to the Abbè Fraguier.

It may indeed be thought, that a Genius ſo vaſt and comprehenſive as that of Homer might carry his Views beyond the reſt of Mankind, and that in this Buckler of Achilles he rather deſign'd to give a Scheme of what might be perform'd, [140] than a Deſcription of what really was ſo: And ſince he made a God the Artiſt, he might excuſe himſelf from a ſtrict Confinement to what was known and practiſed in the Time of the Trojan War. Let this be as it will, it is certain that he had, whether by Learning, or by Strength of Genius, (tho' the latter be more glorious for Homer) a full and exact Idea of Painting in all its Parts; that is to ſay, in the Invention, the Compoſition, the Expreſſion, &c.

The Invention is ſhewn in finding and introducing, in every Subject, the greateſt, the moſt ſignificant, and moſt ſuitable Objects. Accordingly in every ſingle Picture of the Shield, Homer conſtantly finds out either thoſe Objects which are naturally the Principal, thoſe which moſt conduce to ſhew the Subject, or thoſe which ſet it in the livelieſt and moſt agreeable Light: Theſe he never fails to diſpoſe in the moſt advantagious Manners, Situations, and Oppoſitions.

Next, we find all his Figures differently characterized, in their Expreſſions and Attitudes, according to their ſeveral Natures: The Gods (for inſtance) are diſtinguiſh'd in Air, Habit, and Proportion, from Men, in the fourth Picture; Maſters from Servants, in the eighth; and ſo of the reſt.

Nothing is more wonderful than his exact Obſervation of the Contraſt, not only between Figure and Figure, but between Subject and Subject. The City in Peace is a Contraſt to the City in War: Between the Siege in the fourth Picture, and the Battel in the ſixth, a piece of Paiſage is introduced, and rural Scenes follow after. The Country too is repreſented in War in the fifth, as well as in Peace in the ſeventh, eighth, and ninth. The very Animals are ſhewn in theſe two different States, in the tenth and the eleventh. Where the Subjects appear the ſame, he contraſtes them ſome other way: Thus the firſt Picture of the Town in Peace having a predominant Air of Gaiety, in the Dances and Pomps of the Marriage; the ſecond has a Character of Earneſtneſs and Sollicitude, in the Diſpute and Pleadings. In the Pieces of rural Life, that of the Plowing is of a different Character from the Harveſt, and that of the Harveſt from the Vintage. In each of theſe there is a Contraſt of the Labour [141] and Mirth of the country People: In the firſt, ſome are plowing, others taking a Cup of good Liquor; in the next, we ſee the Reapers working in one part, and the Banquet prepar'd in another; in the laſt, the Labour of the Vineyard is reliev'd with Muſick and a Dance. The Perſons are no leſs varied, Old and Young, Men and Women: There being Women in two Pictures together, namely the eighth and ninth, it is remarkable that thoſe in the latter are of a different Character from the former; they who dreſs the Supper being ordinary Women, the others who carry Baskets in the Vineyard, young and beautiful Virgins: And theſe again are of an inferior Character to thoſe in the twelfth Piece, who are diſtinguiſh'd as People of Condition by a more elegant Dreſs. There are three Dances in the Buckler; and theſe too are varied: That at the Wedding is in a circular Figure, that of the Vineyard in a Row, that in the laſt Picture, a mingled one. Laſtly, there is a manifeſt Contraſt in the Colours; nay, ev'n in the Back-Grounds of the ſeveral Pieces: For Example, that of the Plowing is of a dark Tinct, that of the Harveſt yellow, that of the Paſture green, and the reſt in like manner.

That he was not a Stranger to Aerial Perſpective, appears in his expreſly marking the Diſtance of Object from Object: He tells us, for inſtance, that the two Spies lay a little remote from the other Figures; and that the Oak under which was ſpread the Banquet of the Reapers, ſtood apart. What he ſays of the Valley ſprinkled all over with Cottages and Flocks, appears to be a Deſcription of a large Country in Perſpective. And indeed a general Argument for this may be drawn from the Number of Figures on the Shield; which could not be all expreſs'd in their full Magnitude: And this is therefore a ſort of Proof that the Art of leſſening them according to Perſpective was known at that Time.

What the Criticks call the three Unities, ought in reaſon as much to be obſerved in a Picture as in a Play; each ſhould have only one principal Action, one Inſtant of Time, and one Point of View. In this Method of Examination alſo, the Shield of Homer will bear the Teſt: He has been more exact than the greateſt Painters, who have often deviated from one or [142] other of theſe Rules; whereas (when we examine the detail of each Compartiment) it will appear,

Firſt, that there is but one principal Action in each Picture, and that no ſupernumerary Figures or Actions are introduced. This will anſwer all that has been ſaid of the Confuſion and Crowd of Figures on the Shield, by thoſe who never comprehended the Plan of it.

Secondly, that no Action is repreſented in one Peice, which could not happen in the ſame Inſtant of Time. This will overthrow the Objection againſt ſo many different Actions appearing in one Shield; which, in this Caſe, is much as abſurd as to object againſt ſo many of Raphael's Cartons appearing in one Gallery.

Thirdly, It will be manifeſt that there are no Objects in any one Picture which could not be ſeen in one Point of View. Hereby the Abbè Teraſſon's whole Criticiſm will fall to the Ground, which amounts but to this, that the general Objects of the Heavens, Stars and Sea, with the particular Proſpects of Towns, Fields, &c. could never be ſeen all at once. Homer was incapable of ſo abſurd a Thought, nor could theſe heavenly Bodies (had he intended them for a Picture) have ever been ſeen together from one Point; for the Conſtellations and the Full Moon, for example, could never be ſeen at once with the Sun. But the celeſtial Bodies were placed on the Boſs, as the Ocean at the Margin of the Shield: Theſe were no Parts of the Painting, but the former was only an Ornament to the Projection in the middle, and the latter a Frame round about it: In the ſame manner as the Diviſions, Projections, or Angles of a Roof are left to be ornamented at the Diſcretion of the Painter, with Foliage, Architecture, Groteſque, or what he pleaſes: However his Judgment will be ſtill more commendable, if he contrives to make even theſe extrinſical Parts, to bear ſome Alluſion to the main Deſign: It is this which Homer has done, in placing a ſort of Sphere in the middle, and the Ocean at the Border, of a Work, which was expreſſly intended to repreſent the Univerſe.

[143] I proceed now to the Detail of the Shield; in which the Words of Homer being firſt tranſlated, an Attempt will be made to ſhew with what exact Order all that he deſcribes may enter into the Compoſition, according to the Rules of Painting.

THE SHIELD of ACHILLES Divided into its ſeveral Parts.
[144]
The BOSS of the SHIELD.

‘VERSE 483. [...], &c.]’ Here Vulcan repreſented the Earth, the Heaven, the Sea, the indefatigable Courſe of the Sun, the Moon in her full, all the celeſtial Signs that crown Olympus, the Pleiades, the Hyades, the great Orion, and the Bear, commonly call'd the Wain, the only Conſtellation which never bathing itſelf in the Ocean, turns about the Pole, and obſerves the Courſe of Orion.

The Sculpture of theſe reſembled ſomewhat of our terreſtrial and celeſtial Globes, and took up the Center of the Shield: 'Tis plain by the huddle in which Homer expreſſes this, that he did not deſcribe it as a Picture for a point of Sight.

The Circumference is divided into twelve Compartiments, each being a ſeparate Picture: As follow,

Firſt Compartiment A Town in Peace,

[...], &c.]’ He engraved two Cities; in one of them were repreſented Nuptials and Feſtivals. The Spouſes from their bridal Chambers, were conducted thro' the Town by the Light of Torches. Every Mouth ſung the Hymeneal Song: The Youths turn'd rapidly about in a circular Dance: The Flute and the Lyre reſounded: The Women, every one in the Street, ſtanding in the Porches, beheld and admired.

[145] In this Picture, the Brides preceded by Torch-bearers are on the Fore-ground: The Dance in Circles, and Muſicians behind them: The Street in Perſpective on either ſide, the Women and Spectators, in the Porches, &c. diſpers'd thro' all the Architecture.

Second Compartiment. An Aſſembly of People.

[...], &c.]’ There was ſeen a Number of People in the Market-place, and two Men diſputing warmly: The Occaſion was the Payment of a Fine for a Murder, which one affirm'd before the People he had paid, the other deny'd to have receiv'd; both demanded, that the Affair ſhould be determined by the Judgment of an Arbiter: The Acclamations of the Multitude favour'd ſometimes the one Party, ſometimes the other.

Here is a fine Plan for a Maſter-piece of Expreſſion; any Judge of Painting will ſee our Author has choſen that Cauſe which of all others, wou'd give occaſion to the greateſt Variety of expreſſion: The Father, the Murderer, the Witneſſes, and the different Paſſions of the Aſſembly, would afford an ample Field for this Talent even to Raphael himſelf.

Third Compartiment. The Senate.

[...], &c.]’ The Heralds rang'd the People in order: The reverend Elders were ſeated on Seats of poliſh'd Stone, in the ſacred Circle; they roſe up and declared their Judgment, each in his Turn, with the Scepter in his Hand: Two Talents of Gold were laid in the middle of the Circle, to be given to him who ſhould pronounce the moſt equitable Judgment.

The Judges are ſeated in the Center of the Picture; one (who is the principal Figure) ſtanding up as ſpeaking, another in an Action of riſing, as in order to ſpeak: The Ground about 'em a Proſpect of the Forum, fill'd with Auditors and Spectators.

Fourth Compartiment. A Town in War.
[146]

[...], &c.]’ The other City was beſieged by two glittering Armies: They were not agreed, whether to ſack the Town, or divide all the Booty of it into two equal Parts, to be ſhared between them: Meantime the beſieged ſecretly armed themſelves for an Ambuſcade. Their Wives, Children, and old Men were poſted to defend the Walls: The Warriors march'd from the Town with Pallas and Mars at their Head: The Deities were of Gold, and had golden Armours, by the Glory of which they were diſtinguiſh'd above the Men, as well as by their ſuperior Stature, and more elegant Proportions.

This Subject may be thus diſpoſed: The Town pretty near the Eye, a-croſs the whole Picture, with the old Men on the Walls: The Chiefs of each Army on the Foreground: Their different Opinions for putting the Town to the Sword, or ſparing it on account of the Booty, may be expreſs'd by ſome having their Hands on their Swords, and looking up to the City, others ſtopping them, or in an Action of perſuading againſt it. Behind, in Proſpect, the Townſmen may be ſeen going out from the back Gates, with the two Deities at their Head.

Homer here gives a clear Inſtance of what the Ancients always practiſed; the diſtinguiſhing the Gods and Goddeſſes by Characters of Majeſty or Beauty ſomewhat ſuperior to Nature; we conſtantly find this in their Statues, and to this the modern Maſters owe the grand Taſte in the Perfection of their Figures.

Fifth Compartiment. An Ambuſcade.

[...], &c.]’ Being arrived at the River where they deſign'd their Ambuſh (the Place where the Cattel were water'd) they diſpos'd themſelves along the Bank, cover'd with their Arms: Two Spies lay at a diſtance from them, obſerving when the Oxen and Sheep ſhould come to drink. They came immediately, followed by two Shepherds, who were playing on their Pipes, without any Apprehenſion of their Danger.

[147] This quiet Picture is a kind of Repoſe between the laſt, and the following, active Pieces. Here is a Scene of a River and Trees, under which lye the Soldiers, next the Eye of the Spectator; on the farther Bank are placed the two Spies on one Hand, and the Flocks and Shepherds appear coming at a greater Diſtance on the other.

Sixth Compartiment. The Battel.

[...], &c.]’ The People of the Town ruſh'd upon them, carried off the Oxen and Sheep, and kill'd the Shepherds. The Beſiegers ſitting before the Town, heard the Outcry, and mounting their Horſes, arriv'd at the Bank of the River; where they ſtopp'd, and encounter'd each other with their Spears. Diſcord, Tumult, and Fate rag'd in the midſt of them. There might you ſee cruel Deſtiny dragging a dead Soldier thro' the Battel; two others ſhe ſeiz'd alive; one of which was mortally wounded; the other not yet hurt: The Garment on her Shoulders was ſtain'd with human Blood: The Figures appear'd as if they lived, moved, and fought, you would think they really dragged off their Dead.

The Sheep and two Shepherds lying dead upon the Foreground. A Battel-piece fills the Picture. The Allegorical Figure of the Parca or Deſtiny is the Principal. This had been a noble Occaſion for ſuch a Painter as Rubens, who has with moſt Happineſs and Learning, imitated the Ancients in theſe fictitious and ſymbolical Perſons.

Seventh Compartiment. Tillage.

[...].]’ The next Piece repreſented a large Field, a deep and fruitful Soil, which ſeem'd to have been three times plow'd; the Labourers appear'd turning their Plows on every ſide. As ſoon as they came to a Land's end, a Man preſented them a Bowl of Wine; cheared with this, they return'd, and worked down a new furrow, deſirous to haſten to the next Land's end. The Field was of Gold, but look'd black [148] behind the Plows, as if it had really been turn'd up; the ſurprizing Effect of the Art of Vulcan.

The Plowmen muſt be repreſented on the Fore-ground, in the Action of turning at the End of the Furrow. The Invention of Homer is not content with barely putting down the Figures, but enlivens them prodigiouſly with ſome remarkable Circumſtance: The giving a Cup of Wine to the Plowmen muſt occaſion a fine Expreſſion in the Faces.

Eighth Compartiment. The Harveſt.

[...], &c.]’ Next he repreſented a Field of Corn, in which the Reapers worked with ſharp Sickles in their Hands; the Corn fell thick along the Furrows in equal Rows: Three Binders were employed in making up the Sheaves: The Boys attending them, gather'd up the looſe Swarths, and carried them in their Arms to be bound: The Lord of the Field ſtanding in the midſt of the Heaps, with a Scepter in his Hand, rejoyces in Silence: His Officers, at a Diſtance, prepare a Feaſt under the Shade of an Oak, and hold an Ox ready to be ſacrificed; while the Women mix the Flower of Wheat for the Reaper's Supper.

The Reapers on the Fore-ground, with their Faces towards the Spectators; the Gatherers behind, and the Children on the farther Ground. The Maſter of the Field, who is the chief Figure, may be ſet in the middle of the Picture with a ſtrong Light upon him, in the Action of directing and pointing with his Scepter: The Oak, with the Servants under it, the Sacrifice, &c. on a diſtant Ground, would altogether make a beautiful Grouppe of great Variety.

Ninth Compartiment. The Vintage.

[...], &c.]’ He then engraved a Vineyard loaden with its Grapes: The Vineyard was Gold, but the Grapes black, and the Props of them Silver. A Trench of a dark Metal, and a Paliſade of Tin encompaſs'd the whole Vineyard. [149] There was one Path in it, by which the Labourers in the Vineyard paſs'd: Young Men and Maids carried the Fruit in woven Baskets: In the middle of them a Youth play'd on the Lyre and charmed them with his tender Voice, as he ſung to the Strings (or as he ſung the Song of Linus:) The reſt ſtriking the Ground with their Feet in exact time, follow'd him in a Dance, and accompanied his Voice with their own.

The Vintage ſcarce needs to be painted in any Colours but Homer's. The Youths and Maids toward the Eye, as coming out of the Vineyard: The Encloſure, Pales, Gate, &c. on the Fore-ground. There is ſomething inexpreſſibly riant in this Piece, above all the reſt.

Tenth Compartiment. Animals.

[...], &c.]’ He graved a Herd of Oxen, marching with their Heads erected; Theſe Oxen (inlaid with Gold and Tin) ſeem'd to bellow as they quitted their Stall, and run in haſte to the Meadows, through which a rapid River roll'd with reſounding Streams amongſt the Ruſhes: Four Herdſmen of Gold attended them, follow'd by nine large Dogs: Two terrible Lions ſeized a Bull by the Throat, who roar'd as they dragg'd him along; the Dogs and the Herdſmen ran to his Reſcue, but the Lions having torn the Bull, devour'd his Entrails, and drank his Blood, the Herdſmen came up with their Dogs and hearten'd them in vain; they durſt not attack the Lions, but ſtanding at ſome Diſtance, barked at them and ſhunn'd them.

We have next a fine Piece of Animals, tame and ſavage: But what is remarkable, is, that theſe Animals are not coldly brought in to be gazed upon: The Herds, Dogs, and Lions are put into Action, enough to exerciſe the Warmth and Spirit of Rubens, or the great Taſte of Julio Romano.

The Lions may be next the Eye, one holding the Bull by the Throat, the other tearing out his Entrails: A Herdſman or two heartening the Dogs: All theſe on the Fore-ground. On the ſecond Ground another Grouppe of Oxen, that ſeem to have been gone before, toſſing their Heads and running; other Herdſmen and Dogs after 'em: And beyond them, a Proſpect of the River.

Eleventh Compartiment. Sheep.
[150]

[...], &c. The divine Artiſt then engraved a large Flock of white Sheep, feeding along a beautiful Valley. Innumerable Folds, Cottages, and enclos'd Shelters, were ſcatter'd thro' the Proſpect.

This is an entire Landſcape without human Figures, an Image of Nature ſolitary and undiſturb'd: The deepeſt Repoſe and Tranquillity is that which diſtinguiſhes it from the others.

Twelfth Compartiment. The Dance.

[...], &c.]’ The skilful Vulcan then deſign'd the Figure and various Motions of a Dance, like that which Daedalus of old contrived in Gnoſſus for the fair Ariadne. There the young Men and Maidens danced Hand in Hand; the Maids were dreſs'd in linen Garments, the Men in rich and ſhining Stuffs: The Maids had flowery Crowns on their Heads; the Men had Swords of Gold hanging from their Sides in Belts of Silver. Here they ſeem'd to run in a Ring with active Feet, as ſwiftly as a Wheel runs round when tried by the Hand of the Potter. There, they appear'd to move in many Figures, and ſometimes to meet, ſometimes to wind from each other. A Multitude of Spectators ſtood round, delighted with the Dance. In the middle, two nimble Tumblers exerciſed themſelves in Feats of Activity, while the Song was carried on by the whole Circle.

This Picture includes the greateſt Number of Perſons: Homer himſelf has group'd them, and marked the manner of the Compoſition. This Piece would excel in the different Airs of Beauty which might be given to the young Men and Women, and the graceful Attitudes in the various manners of Dancing: On which account the Subject might be fit for Guido, or perhaps cou'd be no where better executed than in our own Countrey.

The BORDER of the SHIELD.

[...], &c.]’ Then laſlly, he repreſented the rapid Courſe of the great Ocean, which he made to roll its Waves round the Extremity of the whole Circumference.

This (as has been ſaid before) was only the Frame to the [151] whole Shield; and is therefore but ſlightly touch'd upon, without any mention of particular Objects.

I ought not to end this Eſſay, without vindicating myſelf from the Vanity of treating of an Art, which I love ſo much better than I underſtand: But I have been very careful to conſult both the beſt Performers and Judges in Painting. I can't neglect this occaſion of ſaying, how happy I think myſelf in the Favour of the moſt diſtinguiſh'd Maſters of that Art. Sir Godſrey Kneller in particular allows me to tell the World, that he entirely agrees with my Sentiments on this Subject: And I can't help wiſhing, that he who gives this Teſtimony to Homer, would ennoble ſo great a Deſign by his own Execution of it. Vulcan never wrought for Thetis with more Readineſs and Affection than Sir Godfrey has done for me: And ſo admirable a Picture of the whole Univerſe could not be a more agreeable Preſent than he has oblig'd me with, in the Portraits of ſome of thoſe Perſons who are to me the deareſt Objects in it.

THE NINETEENTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

[]

The ARGUMENT.
The Reconciliation of Achilles and Agamemnon.

[]

THETIS brings to her Son the Armour made by Vulcan. She preſerves the Body of his Friend from Corruption, and commands him to aſſemble the Army, to declare his Reſentment at an end. Agamemnon and Achilles are ſolemnly reconcil'd: The Speeches, Preſents, and Ceremonies on that Occaſion. Achilles is with great Difficulty perſuaded to refrain from the Battel till the Troops have refreſh'd themſelves, by the Advice of Ulyſſes. The Preſents are convey'd to the Tent of Achilles; where Briſeis laments over the Body of Patroclus. The Hero obſtinately refuſes all repaſt, and gives himſelf up to Lamentations for his Friend. Minerva deſcends to ſtrengthen him, by the Order of Jupiter. He arms for the Fight; his Appearance deſcribed. He addreſſes himſelf to his Horſes, and reproaches them with the Death of Patroclus. One of them is miraculouſly endued with Voice, and inſpir'd to prophecy his Fate; but the Hero, not aſtoniſh'd by that Prodigy, ruſhes with Fury to the Combate.

The thirtieth Day. The Scene is on the Sea-ſhore.

THE NINETEENTH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

[155]
SOON as Aurora heav'd her orient Head
Above the Waves that bluſh'd with early Red,
(With new-born Day to gladden mortal Sight,
And gild the Courts of Heav'n with ſacred Light.)
Th'immortal Arms the Goddeſs-Mother bears
Swift to her Son: Her Son ſhe finds in Tears,
Stretch'd o'er Patroclus' Corſe; while all the reſt
Their Sov'reign's Sorrows in their own expreſt.
A Ray divine her heav'nly Preſence ſhed,
And thus, his Hand ſoft-touching, Thetis ſaid.
Suppreſs (my Son) this Rage of Grief, and know
It was not Man, but Heav'n that gave the Blow;
[156] Behold what Arms by Vulcan are beſtow'd,
Arms worthy thee, or fit to grace a God.
Then drops the radiant Burden on the Ground;
Clang the ſtrong Arms, and ring the Shores around:
Back ſhrink the Myrmidons with dread Surprize,
And from the broad Effulgence turn their Eyes.
Unmov'd, the Hero kindles at the Show,
And feels with Rage divine his Boſom glow
From his fierce Eye-balls living Flames expire,
And flaſh inceſſant like a Stream of Fire:
He turns the radiant Gift; and feeds his Mind
On all th'immortal Artiſt had deſign'd.
Goddeſs (he cry'd) theſe glorious Arms that ſhine
With matchleſs Art, confeſs the Hand divine.
Now to the bloody Battel let me bend:
But ah! the Relicks of my ſlaughter'd Friend!
In thoſe wide Wounds thro' which his Spirit fled,
Shall Flies and Worms obſcene, pollute the Dead?
That unavailing Care be laid aſide,
(The Azure Goddeſs to her Son reply'd)
Whole Years untouch'd, uninjur'd ſhall remain
Freſh as in Life, the Carcaſe of the Slain.
[157] But go, Achilles, (as Affairs require)
Before the Grecian Peers renounce thine Ire:
Then uncontroll'd in boundleſs War engage,
And Heav'n with Strength ſupply the mighty Rage!
Then in the Noſtrils of the Slain ſhe pour'd
Nectareous Drops, and rich Ambroſia ſhowr'd
O'er all the Corſe: The Flies forbid their Prey,
Untouch'd it reſts, and ſacred from Decay.
Achilles to the Strand obedient went;
The Shores reſounded with the Voice he ſent.
The Heroes heard, and all the Naval Train
That tend the Ships, or guide them o'er the Main,
Alarm'd, tranſported, at the well-known Sound,
Frequent and full, the great Aſſembly crown'd;
Studious to ſee that Terror of the Plain,
Long loſt to Battel, ſhine in Arms again.
Tydides and Ulyſſes firſt appear,
Lame with their Wounds, and leaning on the Spear;
Theſe on the ſacred Seats of Council plac'd,
The King of Men, Atrides, came the laſt:
He too ſore wounded by Agenor's Son.
Achilles (riſing in the midſt) begun.
[158]
Oh Monarch! better far had been the Fate
Of thee, of me, of all the Grecian State,
If, (e'er the Day when by mad Paſſion ſway'd,
Raſh we contended for the black-ey'd Maid)
Preventing Dian had diſpatch'd her Dart,
And ſhot the ſhining Miſchief to the Heart!
Then many a Hero had not preſs'd the Shore,
Nor Troy's glad Fields been fatten'd with our Gore:
Long, long ſhall Greece the Woes we caus'd, bewail,
And ſad Poſterity repeat the Tale.
But this, no more the Subject of Debate,
Is paſt, forgotten, and reſign'd to Fate:
Why ſhould (alas) a mortal Man, as I,
Burn with a Fury that can never die?
Here then my Anger ends: Let War ſucceed,
And ev'n as Greece has bled, let Ilion bleed.
Now call the Hoſts, and try, if in our Sight,
Troy yet ſhall dare to camp a ſecond Night?
I deem, their Mightieſt, when this Arm he knows,
Shall 'ſcape with Tranſport, and with Joy repoſe.
He ſaid: His finiſh'd Wrath with loud Acclaim
The Greeks accept, and ſhout Pelides' Name.
[159] When thus, not riſing from his lofty Throne,
In State unmov'd, the King of Men begun.
Hear me ye Sons of Greece! with Silence hear!
And grant your Monarch an impartial Ear;
Awhile your loud, untimely Joy ſuſpend,
And let your raſh, injurious Clamours end:
Unruly Murmurs, or ill-tim'd Applauſe,
Wrong the beſt Speaker, and the juſteſt Cauſe.
Nor charge on me, ye Greeks, the dire Debate;
Know, angry Jove, and all-compelling Fate,
With fell Erynnis, urg'd my Wrath that Day
When from Achilles' Arms I forc'd the Prey.
What then cou'd I, againſt the Will of Heaven?
Not by my ſelf, but vengeful Ate driv'n;
She, Jove's dread Daughter, fated to infeſt
The Race of Mortals, enter'd in my Breaſt.
Not on the Ground that haughty Fury treads,
But prints her lofty Footſteps on the Heads
Of mighty Men; inflicting as ſhe goes
Long-feſt'ring Wounds, inextricable Woes!
Of old, ſhe ſtalk'd amid the bright Abodes;
And Jove himſelf, the Sire of Men and Gods,
[160] The World's great Ruler, felt her venom'd Dart;
Deceiv'd by Juno's Wiles, and female Art.
For when Alcmena's nine long Months were run,
And Jove expected his immortal Son;
To Gods and Goddeſſes th'unruly Joy
He ſhow'd, and vaunted of his matchleſs Boy:
From us (he ſaid) this Day an Infant ſprings,
Fated to rule, and born a King of Kings.
Saturnia ask'd an Oath, to vouch the Truth,
And fix Dominion on the favour'd Youth.
The Thund'rer, unſuſpicious of the Fraud,
Pronounc'd thoſe ſolemn Words that bind a God.
The joyful Goddeſs, from Olympus' Height,
Swift to Achaian Argos bent her Flight;
Scarce ſev'n Moons gone, lay Sthenelus his Wife;
She puſh'd her ling'ring Infant into Life:
Her Charms Alcmena's coming Labours ſtay,
And ſtop the Babe, juſt iſſuing to the Day.
Then bids Saturnius bear his Oath in mind;
A Youth (ſaid ſhe) of Jove's immortal Kind
Is this Day born: From Sthenelus he ſprings,
And claims thy Promiſe to be King of Kings.
[161] Grief ſeiz'd the Thund'rer, by his Oath engag'd;
Stung to the Soul, he ſorrow'd, and he rag'd.
From his Ambroſial Head, where perch'd ſhe ſate,
He ſnatch'd the Fury-Goddeſs of Debate,
The dread, th'irrevocable Oath he ſwore,
Th'immortal Seats ſhould ne'er behold her more;
And whirl'd her headlong down, for ever driv'n
From bright Olympus and the ſtarry Heav'n:
Thence on the nether World the Fury fell;
Ordain'd with Man's contentious Race to dwell.
Full oft' the God his Son's hard Toils bemoan'd,
Curs'd the dire Fury, and in ſecret groan'd.
Ev'n thus, like Jove himſelf, was I miſled,
While raging Hector heap'd our Camps with Dead.
What can the Errors of my Rage attone?
My martial Troops, my Treaſures, are thy own:
This Inſtant from the Navy ſhall be ſent
Whate'er Ulyſſes promis'd at thy Tent:
But thou! appeas'd, propitious to our Pray'r,
Reſume thy Arms, and ſhine again in War.
O King of Nations! whoſe ſuperiour Sway
(Returns Achilles) all our Hoſts obey!
[162] To keep, or ſend the Preſents, be thy Care;
To us, 'tis equal: All we ask is War.
While yet we talk, or but an inſtant ſhun
The Fight, our glorious Work remains undone.
Let ev'ry Greek who ſees my Spear confound
The Trojan Ranks, and deal Deſtruction round,
With Emulation, what I act, ſurvey,
And learn from thence the Buſineſs of the Day.
The Son of Peleus thus: And thus replies
The great in Councils, Ithacus the Wiſe.
Tho' god-like Thou art by no Toils oppreſt,
At leaſt our Armies claim Repaſt and Reſt:
Long and laborious muſt the Combate be,
When by the Gods inſpir'd, and led by thee.
Strength is deriv'd from Spirits and from Blood,
And thoſe augment by gen'rous Wine and Food;
What boaſtful Son of War, without that Stay,
Can laſt a Hero thro' a ſingle Day?
Courage may prompt; but, ebbing out his Strength,
Mere unſupported Man muſt yield at length;
Shrunk with dry Famine, and with Toils declin'd,
The dropping Body will deſert the Mind:
[163] But built a new with Strength-conferring Fare,
With Limbs and Soul untam'd, he tires a War.
Diſmiſs the People then, and give command,
With ſtrong Repaſt to hearten ev'ry Band;
But let the Preſents, to Achilles made,
In full Aſſembly of all Greece be laid.
The King of Men ſhall riſe in publick Sight,
And ſolemn ſwear, (obſervant of the Rite)
That ſpotleſs as ſhe came, the Maid removes,
Pure from his Arms, and guiltleſs of his Loves.
That done, a ſumptuous Banquet ſhall be made,
And the full Price of injur'd Honour paid.
Stretch not henceforth, O Prince! thy ſov'reign Might,
Beyond the Bounds of Reaſon and of Right;
'Tis the chief Praiſe that e'er to Kings belong'd,
To right with Juſtice, whom with Pow'r they wrong'd.
To him the Monarch. Juſt is thy Decree,
Thy Words give Joy, and Wiſdom breathes in thee.
Each due Atonement gladly I prepare;
And Heav'n regard me as I juſtly ſwear!
Here then awhile let Greece aſſembled ſtay,
Nor great Achilles grudge this ſhort Delay;
[164] Till from the Fleet our Preſents be convey'd,
And, Jove atteſting, the firm Compact made.
A Train of noble Youth the Charge ſhall bear;
Theſe to ſelect, Ulyſſes, be thy Care:
In order rank'd let all our Gifts appear,
And the fair Train of Captives cloſe the Rear:
Talthybius ſhall the Victim Boar convey,
Sacred to Jove, and yon' bright Orb of Day.
For this (the ſtern Aeacides replies)
Some leſs important Seaſon may ſuffice,
When the ſtern Fury of the War is o'er,
And Wrath extinguiſh'd burns my Breaſt no more.
By Hector ſlain, their Faces to the Sky,
All grim with gaping Wounds, our Heroes lye:
Thoſe call to War! and might my Voice incite,
Now, now, this Inſtant, ſhou'd commence the Fight.
Then, when the Days' complete, let gen'rous Bowls
And copious Banquets, glad your weary Souls.
Let not my Palate know the Taſte of Food,
Till my inſatiate Rage be cloy'd with Blood:
Pale lyes my Friend, with Wounds disfigur'd o'er,
And his cold Feet are pointed to the Door.
[165] Revenge is all my Soul! no meaner Care,
Int'reſt, or Thought, has room to harbour there;
Deſtruction be my Feaſt, and mortal Wounds,
And Scenes of Blood, and agonizing Sounds.
O firſt of Greeks (Ulyſſes thus rejoin'd)
The beſt and braveſt of the Warrior-Kind!
Thy Praiſe it is in dreadful Camps to ſhine,
But old Experience and calm Wiſdom, mine.
Then hear my Counſel, and to Reaſon yield,
The braveſt ſoon are ſatiate of the Field;
Tho' vaſt the Heaps that ſtrow the crimſon Plain,
The bloody Harveſt brings but little Gain:
The Scale of Conqueſt ever wav'ring lies,
Great Jove but turns it, and the Victor dies!
The Great, the Bold, by Thouſands daily fall,
And endleſs were the Grief, to weep for all.
Eternal Sorrows what avails to ſhed?
Greece honours not with ſolemn Faſts the Dead:
Enough, when Death demands the Brave, to pay
The Tribute of a melancholy Day.
One Chief with Patience to the Grave reſign'd,
Our Care devolves on others left behind.
[166] Let gen'rous Food Supplies of Strength produce,
Let riſing Spirits flow from ſprightly Juice,
Let their warm Heads with Scenes of Battle glow,
And pour new Furies on the feebler Foe.
Yet a ſhort Interval, and none ſhall dare
Expect a ſecond Summons to the War;
Who waits for that, the dire Effect ſhall find,
If trembling in the Ships he lags behind.
Embodied, to the Battel let us bend,
And all at once on haughty Troy deſcend.
And now the Delegates Ulyſſes ſent,
To bear the Preſents from the royal Tent.
The Sons of Neſtor, Phyleus' valiant Heir,
Thias and Merion, Thunderbolts of War,
With Lycomedes of Creiontian Strain,
And Melanippus; form'd the choſen Train.
Swift as the Word was giv'n, the Youths obey'd;
Twice ten bright Vaſes in the midſt they laid;
A Rowe of ſix fair Tripods then ſucceeds;
And twice the Number of high-bounding Steeds:
Sev'n Captives next a lovely Line compoſe;
The eighth Briſeis, like the blooming Roſe,
[167] Clos'd the bright Band: Great Ithacus, before,
Firſt of the Train, the golden Talents bore:
The reſt in publick View the Chiefs diſpoſe,
A ſplendid Scene! Then Agamemnon roſe:
The Boar Talthybius held: The Grecian Lord
Drew the broad Cutlace ſheath'd beſide his Sword;
The ſtubborn Briſtles from the Victim's Brow
He crops, and off'ring meditates his Vow.
His Hands uplifted to th'atteſting Skies,
On Heav'ns broad marble Roof were fix'd his Eyes,
The ſolemn Words a deep Attention draw,
And Greece around ſate thrill'd with ſacred Awe.
Witneſs thou Firſt! thou greateſt Pow'r above!
All good, all-wiſe, and all-ſurveying Jove!
And Mother Earth, and Heav'ns revolving Light,
And ye, fell Furies of the Realms of Night,
Who rule the Dead, and horrid Woes prepare
For perjur'd Kings, and all who falſely ſwear!
The black-ey'd Maid inviolate removes,
Pure and unconſcious of my manly Loves.
If this be falſe, Heav'n all its Vengeance ſhed,
And level'd Thunder ſtrike my guilty Head!
[168]
With that, his Weapon deep inflicts the Wound;
The bleeding Savage tumbles to the Ground:
The ſacred Herald rolls the Victim ſlain
(A Feaſt for Fiſh) into the foaming Main.
Then thus Achilles. Hear, ye Greeks! and know
Whate'er we feel, 'tis Jove inflicts the Woe:
Not elſe Atrides could our Rage inflame,
Nor from my Arms, unwilling, force the Dame.
'Twas Jove's high Will alone, o'eruling all,
That doom'd our Strife, and doom'd the Greeks to fall.
Go then ye Chiefs! indulge the genial Rite;
Achilles waits ye, and expects the Fight.
The ſpeedy Council at his Word adjourn'd;
To their black Veſſels all the Greeks return'd.
Achilles ſought his Tent. His Train before
March'd onward, bending with the Gifts they bore.
Thoſe in the Tents the Squires induſtrious ſpread;
The foaming Courſers to the Stalls they led.
To their new Seats the Female Captives move;
Briſeis, radiant as the Queen of Love,
Slow as ſhe paſt, beheld with ſad ſurvey
Where gaſh'd with cruel Wounds, Patroclus lay.
[169] Prone on the Body fell the heav'nly Fair,
Beat her ſad Breaſt, and tore her golden Hair;
All-beautiful in Grief, her humid Eyes
Shining with Tears, ſhe lifts, and thus ſhe cries.
Ah Youth! for ever dear, for ever kind,
Once tender Friend of my diſtracted Mind!
I left thee freſh in Life, in Beauty gay;
Now find thee cold, inanimated Clay!
What Woes my wretched Race of Life attend?
Sorrows on Sorrows, never doom'd to end!
The firſt lov'd Conſort of my virgin Bed
Before theſe Eyes in fatal Battel bled:
My three brave Brothers in one mournful Day
All trod the dark, irremeable Way:
Thy friendly Hand uprear'd me from the Plain,
And dry'd my Sorrows for a Husband ſlain;
Achilles' Care you promis'd I ſhou'd prove,
The firſt, the deareſt Partner of his Love,
That Rites divine ſhould ratify the Band,
And make me Empreſs in his native Land.
Accept theſe grateful Tears! For thee they flow,
For thee, that ever felt another's Woe!
[170]
Her Siſter Captives echo'd Groan for Groan,
Nor mourn'd Patroclus' Fortunes, but their own.
The Leaders preſs'd the Chief on ev'ry ſide;
Unmov'd, he heard them, and with Sighs deny'd
If yet Achilles have a Friend, whoſe Care
Is bent to pleaſe him; this Requeſt forbear:
Till yonder Sun deſcend, ah let me pay
To Grief and Anguiſh one abſtemious Day.
He ſpoke, and from the Warriors turn'd his Face:
Yet ſtill the Brother-Kings of Atreus' Race:
Neſtor, Idomeneus, Ulyſſes ſage,
And Phoenix; ſtrive to calm his Grief and Rage
His Rage they calm not, nor his Grief controul;
He groans, he raves, he ſorrows from his Soul.
Thou too, Patroclus! (thus his Heart he vents)
Haſt ſpread th'inviting Banquet in our Tents;
Thy ſweet Society, thy winning Care,
Oft' ſtay'd Achilles, ruſhing to the War.
But now alas! to Death's cold Arms reſign'd,
What Banquet but Revenge can glad my Mind?
What greater Sorrow could afflict my Breaſt,
What more, if hoary Peleus were deceaſt?
[171] Who now, perhaps, in Pthia dreads to hear
His Son's ſad Fate, and drops a tender Tear.)
What more, ſhould Neoptolemus the brave,
(My only Offspring) ſink into the Grave?
If yet that Offspring lives, (I diſtant far,
Of all neglectful, wage a hateful War.)
I cou'd not this, this cruel Stroke attend;
Fate claim'd Achilles, but might ſpare his Friend.
I hop'd Patroclus might ſurvive, to rear
My tender Orphan with a Parent's Care,
From Scyros Iſle conduct him o'er the Main,
And glad his Eyes with his paternal Reign,
The lofty Palace, and the large Domain.
For Peleus breaths no more the vital Air;
Or drags a wretched Life of Age and Care,
But till the News of my ſad Fate invades
His haſtening Soul, and ſinks him to the Shades.
Sighing he ſaid: His Grief the Heroes join'd,
Each ſtole a Tear for what he left behind.
Their mingled Grief the Sire of Heav'n ſurvey'd,
And thus, with Pity, to his blue-ey'd Maid.
[172]
Is then Achilles now no more thy Care,
And doſt thou thus deſert the Great in War?
Lo, where yon' Sails their canvas Wings extend,
All comfortleſs he ſits, and wails his Friend:
E'er Thirſt and Want his Forces have oppreſt,
Haſte and infuſe Ambroſia in his Breaſt.
He ſpoke, and ſudden as the Word of Jove
Shot the deſcending Goddeſs from above.
So ſwift thro' Aether the ſhrill Harpye ſings,
The wide Air floating to her ample Wings.
To great Achilles ſhe her Flight addreſt,
And pour'd divine Ambroſia in his Breaſt,
With Nectar ſweet, (Refection of the God's!)
Then, ſwift aſcending, ſought the bright Abodes.
Now iſſued from the Ships the warrior Train,
And like a Deluge pour'd upon the Plain.
As when the piercing Blaſts of Boreas blow,
And ſcatter o'er the Fields the driving Snow;
From dusky Clouds the fleecy Winter flies,
Whoſe dazling Luſtre whitens all the Skies:
So Helms ſucceeding Helms, ſo Shields from Shields
Catch the quick Beams, and brighten all the Fields;
[173] Broad-glitt'ring Breaſtplates, Spears with pointed Rays
Mix in one Stream, reflecting Blaze on Blaze:
Thick beats the Center as the Courſers bound,
With Splendor flame the Skies, and laugh the Fields around.
Full in the midſt, high tow'ring o'er the reſt,
His Limbs in Arms divine Achilles dreſt;
Arms which the Father of the Fire beſtow'd,
Forg'd on th'Eternal Anvils of the God.
Grief and Revenge his furious Heart inſpire,
His glowing Eye-balls roll with living Fire,
He grinds his Teeth, and furious with Delay
O'erlooks th'embattled Hoſt, and hopes the bloody Day.
The ſilver Cuiſhes firſt his Thighs infold;
Then o'er his Breaſt was brac'd the hollow Gold:
The brazen Sword a various Baldrick ty'd,
That, ſtarr'd with Gems, hung glitt'ring at his ſide;
And like the Moon, the broad refulgent Shield
Blaz'd with long Rays, and gleam'd athwart the Field.
So to Night-wand'ring Sailors, pale with Fears,
Wide o'er the wat'ry Waſte, a Light appears,
Which on the far-ſeen Mountain blazing high,
Streams from ſome lonely Watch-tow'r to the Sky:
[174] With mournful Eyes they gaze, and gaze again;
Loud howls the Storm, and drives them o'er the Main.
Next, his high Head the Helmet grac'd; behind
The ſweepy Creſt hung floating in the Wind:
Like the red Star, that from his flaming Hair
Shakes down Diſeaſes, Peſtilence and War;
So ſtream'd the golden Honours from his Head,
Trembled the ſparkling Plumes, and the looſe Glories ſhed.
The Chief beholds himſelf with wond'ring eyes;
His Arms he poiſes, and his Motions tries;
Buoy'd by ſome inward Force, he ſeems to ſwim,
And feels a Pinion lifting ev'ry Limb.
And now he ſhakes his great paternal Spear,
Pond'rous and huge! which not a Greek could rear.
From Pelion's cloudy Top an Aſh entire
Old Chiron fell'd, and ſhap'd it for his Sire;
A Spear which ſtern Achilles only wields,
The Death of Heroes, and the Dread of Fields.
Automedon and Alcimus prepare
Th'immortal Courſers, and the radiant Car,
(The ſilver Traces ſweeping at their ſide)
Their fiery Mouths reſplendent Bridles ty'd,
[175] The Iv'ry ſtudded Reins, return'd behind,
Wav'd o'er their Backs, and to the Chariot join'd.
The Charioteer then whirl'd the Laſh around,
And ſwift aſcended at one active Bound.
All bright in heav'nly Arms, above his Squire
Achilles mounts, and ſets the Field on Fire;
Not brighter, Phoebus in th'Aethereal Way,
Flames from his Chariot, and reſtores the Day.
High o'er the Hoſt, all terrible he ſtands,
And thunders to his Steeds theſe dread Commands.
Xanthus and Balius! of Podarges' Strain,
(Unleſs ye boaſt that heav'nly Race in vain)
Be ſwift, be mindful of the Load ye bear,
And learn to make your Maſter more your Care:
Thro' falling Squadrons bear my ſlaught'ring Sword,
Nor, as ye left Patroclus, leave your Lord.
The gen'rous Xanthus, as the Words he ſaid,
Seem'd ſenſible of Woe, and droop'd his Head:
Trembling he ſtood before the golden Wain,
And bow'd to Duſt the Honours of his Mane,
When ſtrange to tell! (So Juno will'd) he broke
Eternal Silence, and portentous ſpoke.
[176]
Achilles! yes! this Day at leaſt we bear
Thy rage in ſafety thro' the Files of War:
But come it will, the fatal Time muſt come,
Nor ours the Fault, but God decrees thy Doom.
Not thro' our Crime, or Slowneſs in the Courſe;
Fell thy Patroclus, but by heav'nly Force.
The bright far-ſhooting God who gilds the Day,
(Confeſt we ſaw him) tore his Arms away.
No—could our Swiftneſs o'er the Winds prevail,
Or beat the Pinions of the Weſtern Gale,
All were in vain—The Fates thy Death demand,
Due to a mortal and immortal Hand.
Then ceas'd for ever, by the Furies ty'd,
His fate-ful Voice. Th'intrepid Chief reply'd
With unabated Rage—So let it be!
Portents and Prodigies are loſt on me.
I know my Fates: To die, to ſee no more
My much lov'd Parents, and my native Shore—
Enough—When Heav'n ordains, I ſink in Night,
Now periſh Troy! He ſaid, and ruſh'd to Fight.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE Nineteenth Book.
[179]OBSERVATIONS ON THE NINETEENTH BOOK.

[]

I.

‘VERSE 13. BEhold what Arms, &c.]’ 'Tis not Poetry only which has had this Idea, of giving divine Ams to a Hero; we have a very remarkable Example of it in our holy Books. In the ſecond of Maccabees, chap. 16. Judas ſees in a Dream the Prophet Jeremiah bringing to him a Sword as from God: Tho' this was only a Dream, or a Viſion, yet ſtill it is the ſame Idea. This Example is likewiſe ſo much the more worthy of Obſervation, as it is much later than the Age of Homer; and as thereby it is ſeen, that the ſame way of Thinking continued a long time amongſt the Oriental Nations. Dacier.

II.

‘VERSE 30. Shall Flies and Worms obſcene pollute the Dead?]’ The Care which Achilles takes in this place to drive away the Flies from the dead Body of Patroclus, ſeems to us a mean Employment, and a Care unworthy of a Hero. But that Office was regarded by Homer, and by all the Greeks of his time, as a pious Duty conſecrated by Cuſtom and Religion; which obliged the Kindred and Friends of the [180] Deceas'd to watch his Corps, and prevent any Corruption before the ſolemn Day of his Funerals. It is plain this Devoir was thought an indiſpenſable one, ſince Achilles could not diſcharge himſelf of it but by impoſing it upon his Mother. It is alſo clear, that in thoſe times the Preſervation of a dead Body was accounted a very important Matter, ſince the Goddeſſes themſelves, nay the moſt delicate of the Goddeſſes, made it the Subject of their utmoſt Attention. As Thetis preſerves the Body of Patroclus, and chaſes from it thoſe Inſects that breed in the Wounds and cauſe Putrefaction, ſo Venus is employ'd Day and Night about that of Hector, in driving away the Dogs to which Achilles had expos'd it. Apollo, on his part, covers it with a thick Cloud, and preſerves its Freſhneſs amidſt the greateſt Heats of the Sun: And this Care of the Deities over the Dead was look'd upon by Men as a Fruit of their Piety.

There is an excellent Remark upon this Paſſage in Boſſu's admirable Treatiſe of the Epic Poem, lib. 3. c. 10. ‘"To ſpeak (ſays this Author) of the Arts and Sciences as a Poet ought, we ſhould veil them under Names and Actions of Perſons fictitious and allegorical. Homer will not plainly ſay that Salt has the Virtue to preſerve dead Bodies, and prevent the Flies from engendering Worms in them; he will not ſay, that the Sea preſented Achilles a Remedy to preſerve Patroclus from Putrefaction; but he will make the Sea a Goddeſs, and tell us, that Thetis to comfort Achilles, engaged to perfume the Body with an Ambroſia which ſhou'd keep it a whole Year from Corruption: It is thus Homer teaches the Poets to ſpeak of Arts and Sciences. This Example ſhews the Nature of the things, that Flies cauſe Putrefaction, that Salt preſerves Bodies from it; but all this is told us poetically, the whole is reduced into Action, the Sea is made a Perſon who ſpeaks and acts, and this Proſopopoeia is accompanied with Paſſion, Tenderneſs and Affection; in a word, there is nothing which is not (according to Ariſtotle's Precept) endued with Manners.’

III.

[181]
VERSE 61.
Preventing Dian had diſpatch'd her Dart,
And ſhot the ſhining Miſchief to the Heart.]

Achilles wiſhes Briſeis had died before ſhe had occaſion'd ſo great Calamities to his Countreymen: I will not ſay, to excuſe him, that his Virtue here overpowers his Love, but that the Wiſh is not ſo very barbarous as it may ſeem by the Phraſe to a modern Reader. It is not, that Diana had actually kill'd her, as by a particular Stroke or Judgment from Heaven; it means no more than a natural Death, as appears from this Paſſage in Odyſſ. 15.

When Age or Sickneſs have unnerv'd the Strong,
Apollo comes, and Cynthia comes along,
They bend the Silver Bows for ſudden Ill,
And every ſhining Arrow flies to kill.

And he does not wiſh her Death now, after ſhe had been his Miſtreſs, but only that ſhe had died, before he knew, or lov'd her.

IV.

‘VERSE 93. She, Jove's dread daughter.]’ This Speech of Agamemnon, conſiſting of little elſe than the long Story of Jupiter's caſting Diſcord out of Heaven, ſeems odd enough at firſt ſight; and does not indeed anſwer what I believe every Reader expects, at the Conference of theſe two Princes. Without excuſing it from the Juſtneſs, and proper Application of the Allegory in the preſent Caſe, I think it a piece of Artifice, very agreeable to the Character of Agamemnon, which is a Mixture of Haughtineſs and Cunning! He cannot prevail with himſelf any way to leſſen the Dignity of the royal Character, of which he every where appears jealous: Something he is oblig'd to ſay in publick, and not brooking directly to own himſelf in the wrong, he ſlurs it over with this Tale. With what Statelineſs is it that he yields? ‘"I was miſled [182] (ſays he) but I was miſled like Jupiter. We inveſt you with our Powers, take our Troops and our Treaſures: Our royal Promiſe ſhall be fulfill'd, but be you pacified."’

V.

VERSE 93.
She, Jove's dread Daughter, fated to infeſt
The Race of Mortals—]

It appears from hence, that the Ancients own'd a Daemon, created by God himſelf, and totally taken up in doing Miſchief.

This Fiction is very remarkable, in as much as it proves that the Pagans knew that a Daemon of Diſcord and Malediction was in Heaven, and afterwards precipitated to Earth, which perfectly agrees with holy Hiſtory. St. Juſtin will have it, that Homer attain'd to the Knowledge thereof in Egypt, and that he had ev'n read what Iſaiah writes, chap. 14. How art thou fal'n from Heaven, O Lucifer, Son of the Morning, how art thou cut down to the Ground which didſt weaken the Nations? But our Poet could not have ſeen the Prophecy of Iſaiah, becauſe he liv'd 100, or 150 Years before that Prophet; and this Anteriority of Time makes this Paſſage the more obſervable. Homer therein bears authentick Witneſs to the Truth of the Story, of an Angel thrown from Heaven, and gives this Teſtimony above an 100 Years before one of the greateſt Prophets ſpoke of it Dacier.

VI.

‘VERSE 145. To keep or ſend the Preſents, be thy Care.]’ Achilles neither refuſes nor demands Agamemnon's Preſents: The firſt would be too contemptuous, and the other would look too ſelfiſh. It wou'd ſeem as if Achilles fought only for Pay like a Mercenary, which wou'd be utterly unbecoming a Hero, and diſhonourable to that Character: Homer is wonderful as to the Manners. Spond. Dac.

VII.

[183]

‘VERSE 197. The ſtern Aeacides replies.]’ The Greek Verſe is

[...]

Which is repeated very frequently throughout the Iliad. It is a very juſt Remark of a French Critick, that what makes it ſo much taken notice of, is the rumbling Sound and Length of the Word [...]: This is ſo true, that if in a Poem or Romance of the ſame Length as the Iliad, we ſhould repeat The Hero anſwer'd, full as often, we ſhould never be ſenſible of that Repetition. And if we are not ſhock'd at the like Frequency of thoſe Expreſſions in the Aeneid, ſic ore refert, talia voce reſert, talia dicta dabat, vix ea fatus erat, &c. it is only becauſe the Sound of the Latin Words does not fill the Ear like that of the Greek [...].

The Diſcourſe of the ſame Critick upon theſe ſort of Repetitions in general, deſerves to be tranſcribed. That uſeleſs Nicety (ſays he) of avoiding every Repetition which the Delicacy of later Times has introduced, was not known to the firſt Ages of Antiquity: The Books of Moſes abound with them. Far from condemning their frequent Uſe in the moſt ancient of all the Poets, we ſhould look upon them as the certain Character of the Age in which he liv'd: They ſpoke ſo in his Time, and to have ſpoken otherwiſe had been a Fault. And indeed nothing is in itſelf ſo contrary to the true Sublime, as that painful and frivolous Exactneſs, with which we avoid to make uſe of a proper Word becauſe it was us'd before. It is certain that the Romans were leſs ſcrupulous as to this point: You have often in a ſingle Page of Tully, the ſame Word five or ſix times over. If it were really a Fault, it is not to be conceiv'd how an Author who ſo little wanted Variety of Expreſſions as Homer, could be ſo very negligent herein? On the contrary, he ſeems to have affected to repeat the ſame Things in the ſame Words, on many Occaſions.

[184] It was from two Principles equally true, that among ſeveral People, and in ſeveral Ages, two Practices entirely different took their Riſe. Moſes, Homer, and the Writers of the firſt Times, had found that Repetitions of the ſame Words recall'd the Ideas of Things, imprinted them much more ſtrongly, and render'd the Diſcourſe more intelligible. Upon this Principle, the Cuſtom of repeating Words, Phraſes, and even entire Speeches, inſenſibly eſtabliſh'd itſelf both in Proſe and in Poetry, eſpecially in Narrations.

The Writers who ſucceeded them obſerv'd, even from Homer himſelf, that the greateſt Beauty of Style conſiſted in Variety. This they made their Principle: They therefore avoided Repetitions of Words, and ſtill more of whole Sentences; they endeavour'd to vary their Tranſitions; and found out new Turns and Manners of expreſſing the ſame Things.

Either of theſe Practices is good, but the Exceſs of either vicious: We ſhould neither on the one hand, thro' a Love of Simplicity and Clearneſs, continually repeat the ſame Words, Phraſes, or Diſcourſes; nor on the other, for the Pleaſure of Variety, fall into a childiſh Affectation of expreſſing every thing twenty different Ways, tho' it be never ſo natural and common.

Nothing ſo much cools the Warmth of a Piece or puts out the Fire of Poetry, as that perpetual Care to vary inceſſantly even in the ſmalleſt Circumſtances. In this, as in many other Points, Homer has deſpis'd the ungrateful Labour of too ſcrupulous a Nicety. He has done like a great Painter, who does not think himſelf oblig'd to vary all his Pieces to that degree, as not one of 'em ſhall have the leaſt Reſemblance to another: If the principal Figures are entirely different, we eaſily excuſe a Reſemblance in the Landſcapes, the Skies, or the Draperies. Suppoſe a Gallery full of Pictures, each of which repreſents a particular Subject: In one I ſee Achilles in Fury, menacing Agamemnon; in another the ſame Hero with regret delivers up Briſeis to the Heralds; in a third 'tis ſtill Achilles, but Achilles overcome with Grief, and lamenting to his Mother. If the Air, the Geſture, the Countenance, the Character of Achilles, are the ſame in each of [185] theſe three Pieces; if the Ground of one of theſe be the ſame with that of the others in the Compoſition and general Deſign, whether it be Landſcape, or Architecture; then indeed one ſhould have reaſon to blame the Painter for the Uniformity of his Figures and Grounds. But if there be no Sameneſs but in the Folds of a few Draperies, in the Structure of ſome part of a Building, or in the Figure of ſome Tree, Mountain, or Cloud, it is what no one would regard as a Fault. The Application is obvious: Homer repeats, but they are not the great Strokes which he repeats, not thoſe which ſtrike and fix our Attention: They are only the little Parts, the Tranſitions, the general Circumſtances, or familiar Images, which recur naturally, and upon which the Reader but caſts his Eye careleſly: Such as the Deſcriptions of Sacrifices, Repaſts, or Embarquements; ſuch in ſhort, as are in their own Nature much the ſame, which it is ſufficient juſt to ſhew, and which are in a manner incapable of different Ornaments.

VIII.

‘VERSE 159. Strength is deriv'd from Spirits, &c.]’ This Advice of Ulyſſes that the Troops ſhou'd refreſh themſelves with Eating and Drinking, was extremely neceſſary, after a Battel of ſo long Continuance as that of the Day before: And Achilles's Deſire that they ſhou'd charge the Enemy immediately, without any Reflection on the Neceſſity of that Refreſhment, was alſo highly natural to his violent Character. This forces Ulyſſes to repeat that Advice, and inſiſt upon it ſo much: Which theſe Criticks did not ſee into, who thro' a falſe Delicacy are ſhock'd at his inſiſting ſo warmly on Eating and Drinking. Indeed to a common Reader who is more fond of heroick and romantick, than of juſt and natural Images, this at firſt ſight may have an Air of Ridicule; but I'll venture to ſay there is nothing ridiculous in the Thing itſelf, nor mean and low in Homer's manner of expreſſing it: And I believe the ſame of this Tranſlation, tho' I have not ſoften'd or abated of the Idea they are ſo offended with.

IX.

[186]

‘VERSE 209. Pale lies my Friend, &c.]’ It is in the Greek, lies extended in my Tent with his Face turned towards the Door, [...], that is to ſay, as the Scholiaſt has explain'd it, having his Feet turned towards the Door. For it was thus the Greeks placed their Dead in the Porches of their Houſes, as likewiſe in Italy,

In portam rigidos calces extendit.
Perſius.

—Recepitque ad limina greſſum
Corpus ubi exanimi poſitum Pallantis Acetes
Servabat Senior—

Thus we are told by Suetonius, of the Body of Auguſtus—Equeſter ordo ſuſcepit, urbique intulit, atque in Veſtibulo domus collocavit.

X.

‘VERSE 221. Tho' vaſt the Heaps, &c.]’ Ulyſſes's Expreſſion in the Original is very remarkable; he calls [...], Straw or Chaff, ſuch as are kill'd in the Battel; and he calls [...], the Crop, ſuch as make their Eſcape. This is very conformable to the Language of Holy Scripture, wherein thoſe who periſh are called Chaff, and thoſe who are ſaved are call'd Corn. Dacier.

XI.

VERSE 237.
—None ſhall dare
Expect a ſecond Summons to the War.]

This is very artful; Ulyſſes, to prevail upon Achilles to let the Troops take Repaſt, and yet in ſome ſort to ſecond his impatience, gives with the ſame Breath Orders for Battel, by commanding the Troops to march, and expect no farther Orders. Thus tho' the Troops go to take Repaſt, it looks as if they do not loſe a moment's time, but are going to put themſelves in Array of Battel. Dacier.

XII.

[187]

‘VERSE 280. Rolls the Victim into the Main.]’ For it was not lawful to eat the Fleſh of the Victims, that were ſacrificed in Confirmation of Oaths; ſuch were Victims of Malediction. Euſtathius.

XIII.

‘VERSE 281. Hear ye Greeks, &c.]’ Achilles, to let them ſee that he is entirely appeas'd, juſtifies Agamemnon himſelf, and enters into the Reaſons with which that Prince had colour'd his Fault. But in that Juſtification he perfectly well preſerves his Character, and illuſtrates the Advantage he has over that King who offended him. Dacier.

XIV.

‘VERSE 303, &c. The Lamentation of Briſeis over Patroclus.]’ This Speech (ſays Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus) is not without its Artifice: While Briſeis ſeems only to be deploring Patroclus, ſhe repreſents to Achilles who ſtands by, the Breach of the Promiſes he had made her, and upbraids him with the Neglect he had been guilty of in reſigning her up to Agamemnon. He adds, that Achilles hereupon acknowledges the Juſtice of her Complaint, and makes anſwer that his Promiſes ſhould be performed: It was a ſlip in that great Critick's Memory, for the Verſe he cites is not in this Part of the Author, [ [...], Part 2.]

XV.

‘VERSE 315. Achilles Care you promis'd, &c.]’ In theſe Days when our Manners are ſo different from thoſe of the Ancients, and we ſee none of thoſe diſmal Cataſtrophes which laid whole Kingdoms waſte and ſubjected Princeſſes [188] and Queens to the Power of the Conqueror; it will perhaps ſeem aſtoniſhing, that a Princeſs of Briſeis's Birth, the very Day that her Father, Brothers, and Husband were kill'd by Achilles, ſhould ſuffer her ſelf to be comforted and even flatter'd with the Hopes of becoming the Spouſe of their Murderer. But ſuch were the Manners of thoſe Times, as ancient Hiſtory teſtifies: And a Poet repreſents them as they were; But if there was a Neceſſary for juſtifying them, it might be ſaid that Slavery was at that time ſo terrible, that in truth a Princeſs like Briſeis was pardonable, to chuſe rather to become Achilles's Wife than his Slave. Dacier.

XVI.

‘VERSE 322. Nor mourn'd Patroclus Fortunes but their own.]’ Homer adds this Touch, to heighten the Character of Briſeis, and to ſhew the Difference there was between her and the other Captives. Briſeis, as a well-born Princeſs, really bewail'd Patroclus out of Gratitude; but the others, by pretending to bewail him, wept only out of Intereſt. Dacier.

XVII.

‘VERSE 335. Thou too Patroclus, &c.]’ This Lamentation is finely introduced: While the Generals are perſuading him to take ſome Refreſhment, it naturally awakens in his Mind the Remembrance of Patroclus, who had ſo often brought him Food every Morning before they went to Battel: This is very natural, and admirably well conceals the Art of drawing the Subject of his Diſcourſe from the things that preſent themſelves. Spondanus.

XVIII.

‘VERSE 351. I hop'd, Patroclus might ſurvive, &c.]’ Patroclu was young, and Achilles who had but a ſhort time to lives [189] hoped that after his Death his dear Friend wou'd be as a Father to his Son, and put him into the Poſſeſſion of his Kingdom: Neoptolemus wou'd in Patroclus find Peleus and Achilles; whereas when Patroclus was dead, he muſt be an Orphan indeed. Homer is particularly admirable for the Sentiments, and always follows Nature. Dacier.

XIX.

VERSE 384.
So Helms ſucceeding Helms, ſo Shields from Shields
Catch the quick Beams, and brighten all the Fields.]

It is probable the Reader may think the Words, ſhining, ſplendid, and others deriv'd from the Luſtre of Arms, too frequent in theſe Books. My Author is to anſwer for it, but it may be alledg'd in his Excuſe, that when it was the Cuſtom for every Soldier to ſerve in Armour, and when thoſe Arms were of Braſs before the Uſe of Iron became common, theſe Image of Luſtre were leſs avoidable, and more neceſſarily frequent in Deſcriptions of this nature.

XX.

‘VERSE 398. Achilles arming himſelf, &c.]’ There is a wonderful Pomp in this Deſcription of Achilles's arming himſelf; every Reader without being pointed to it, will ſee the extreme Grandeur of all theſe Images; But what is particular, is, in what a noble Scale they riſe one above another, and how the Hero is ſet ſtill in a ſtronger Point of Light than before; till he is at laſt in a manner cover'd over with Glories: He is at firſt likened to the Moonlight, then to the Flames of a Beacon, then to a Comet, and laſtly to the Sun it ſelf.

XXI.

VERSE 450.
Then (ſtrange to tell! ſo Juno will'd) he broke
Eternal Silence, and portentous ſpoke.]

It is remark'd, in excuſe of this extravagant Fiction of a Horſe [190] ſpeaking, that Homer was authorized herein by Fable, Tradition, and Hiſtory. Livy makes mention of two Oxen that ſpoke on different occaſions, and recites the Speech of one, which was, Roma cave tibi. Pliny tells us, theſe Animals were particularly gifted this way, l. 8. c. 45. Eſt frequens in prodigiis priſcorum, bovem locutum. Beſides Homer had prepar'd us for expecting ſomething miraculous from theſe Horſes of Achilles, by repreſenting them to be immortal. We have ſeen 'em already ſenſible, and weeping at the Death of Patroclus: And we muſt add to all this, that a Goddeſs is concern'd in working this Wonder: It is Juno that does it. Oppian alludes to this in a beautiful Paſſage of his firſt Book: Not having the Original by me, I ſhall quote (what I believe is no leſs beautiful) Mr. Fenton's Tranſlation of it.

Of all the prone Creation, none diſplay
A friendlier Senſe of Man's ſuperior Sway:
Some in the ſilent Pomp of Grief complain,
For the brave Chief, by doom of Battel ſlain:
And when young Peleus in his rapid Car
Ruſh'd on, to rouze the Thunder of the War,
With human Voice inſpir'd, his Steed deplor'd
The Fate impending dreadful o'er his Lord.
Cyneg. lib. 1.

Spondanus and Dacier fail not to bring up Balaam's Aſs on this Occaſion. But methinks the Commentators are at too much pains to diſcharge the Poet from the Imputation of extravagant Fiction, by accounting for Wonders of this kind: I am afraid, that next to the Extravagance of inventing them, is that of endeavouring to reconcile ſuch Fictions to Probability. Would not one general Anſwer do better, to ſay once for all, that the abovecited Authors liv'd in the Age of Wonders: The Taſte of the World has been generally turn'd to the Miraculous; Wonders were what the People would have, and what not only the Poets, but the Prieſts, gave 'em.

XXII.

[191]
VERSE 464.
Then ceas'd for ever, by the Furies ty'd,
His fate-ful Voice—

The Poet had offended againſt Probability if he had made Juno take away the Voice, for Juno (which ſignifies the Air) is the cauſe of the Voice. Beſides, the Poet was willing to intimate that the Privation of the Voice is a thing ſo diſmal and melancholy, that none but the Furies can take upon them ſo cruel an Employment. Euſtathius.

THE TWENTIETH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

[]

The ARGUMENT.
The Battel of the Gods, and the Acts of Achilles.

[]

JUPITER upon Achilles's returning to the Battel, calls a Council of the Gods, and permits them to aſſiſt either Party. The Terrors of the Combate deſcrib'd, when the Deities are engag'd. Apollo encourages Aeneas to meet Achilles. After a long Converſation, theſe two Heroes encounter; but Aeneas is preſerv'd by the Aſſiſtance of Neptune. Achilles falls upon the reſt of the Trojans, and is upon 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.

THE TWENTIETH BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

[195]
THUS round Pelides breathing and Blood,
Greece ſheath'd in Arms, beſide her Veſſels ſtood;
While near impending from a neighb'ring Height,
Troy's black Battalions wait the Shock of Fight.
Then Jove to Themis gives Command, to call
The Gods to Council in the ſtarry Hall:
Swift o'er Olympus hundred Hills ſhe flies,
And ſummons all the Senate of the Skies.
Theſe ſhining on, in long Proceſſion come
To Joves eternal Adamantine Dome.
Not one was abſent; not a Rural Pow'r
That haunts the verdant Gloom, or roſy Bow'r,
[196] Each fair-hair'd Dryad of the ſhady Wood,
Each azure Siſter of the ſilver Flood;
All but old Ocean, hoary Sire! who keeps
His ancient Seat beneath the ſacred Deeps.
On Marble Thrones with lucid Columns crown'd,
(The Work of Vulcan) ſate the Gods around.
Ev'n
Neptune.
He whoſe Trident ſways the watry Reign,
Heard the loud Summons, and forſook the Main,
Aſſum'd his Throne amid the bright Abodes,
And queſtion'd thus the Sire of Men and Gods.
What moves the God who Heav'n and Earth commands,
And graſps the Thunder in his awful Hands,
Thus to convene the whole aetherial State?
Is Greece and Troy the Subject in debate?
Already met, the low'ring Hoſts appear,
And Death ſtands ardent on the Edge of War.
'Tis true (the Cloud-compelling Pow'r replies)
This Day, we call the Council of the Skies
In Care of human Race; ev'n Jove's own Eye
Sees with Regret unhappy Mortals die.
Far on Olympus' Top in ſecret State
Ourſelf will ſit, and ſee the Hand of Fate
[197] Work out our Will. Celeſtial Pow'rs! deſcend,
And as your Minds direct, your Succour lend
To either Hoſt. Troy ſoon muſt lye o'erthrown,
If uncontroll'd Achilles fights alone:
Their Troops but lately durſt not meet his Eyes;
What can they now, if in his Rage he riſe?
Aſſiſt them Gods! or Ilion's ſacred Wall
May fall this Day, tho' Fate forbids the Fall.
He ſaid, and fir'd their heav'nly Breaſts with Rage:
On adverſe Parts the warring Gods engage.
Heav'ns awful Queen; and He whoſe azure Round
Girds the vaſt Globe; the Maid in Arms renown'd;
Hermes, of profitable Arts the Sire,
And Vulcan, the black Sov'reign of the Fire:
Theſe to the Fleet repair with inſtant Flight,
The Veſſels tremble as the Gods alight.
In aid of Troy, Latona, Phoebus came,
Mars fiery-helm'd, the Laughter-loving Dame,
Xanthus whoſe Streams in golden Currents flow,
And the chaſt Huntreſs of the ſilver Bow.
E'er yet the Gods their various Aid employ,
Each Argive Boſom ſwell'd with manly Joy,
[198] While great Achilles, (Terror of the Plain)
Long loſt to Battel, ſhone in Arms again.
Dreadful he ſtood in Front of all his Hoſt;
Pale Troy beheld, and ſeem'd already loſt;
Her braveſt Heroes pant with inward Fear,
And trembling ſee another God of War.
But when the Pow'rs deſcending ſwell'd the Fight,
Then Tumult roſe; fierce Rage and pale Affright
Vary'd each Face; then Diſcord ſounds Alarms,
Earth echoes, and the Nations ruſh to Arms.
Now thro' the trembling Shores Minerva calls.
And now ſhe thunders from the Grecian Walls.
Mars hov'ring o'er his Troy, his Terror ſhrouds
In gloomy Tempeſts, and a Night of Clouds:
Now thro' each Trojan Heart he Fury pours
With Voice divine from Ilion's topmoſt Towr's,
Now ſhouts to Simois, from her beauteous * Hill;
The Mountain ſhook, the rapid Stream ſtood ſtill.
Above, the Sire of Gods his Thunder rolls,
And Peals on Peals redoubled rend the Poles.
Beneath, ſtern Neptune ſhakes the ſolid Ground,
The Foreſts wave, the Mountains nod around;
[199] Thro' all their Summits tremble Ida's Woods,
And from their Sources boil her hundred Floods.
Troy's Turrets totter on the rocking Plain;
And the toſs'd Navies beat the heaving Main.
Deep in the diſmal Regions of the Dead,
Th'infernal Monarch rear'd his horrid Head,
Leap'd from his Throne, leſt Neptunes Arm ſhould lay
His dark Dominions open to the Day,
And pour in Light on Pluto's drear Abodes,
Abhorr'd by Men, and dreadful ev'n to Gods.
Such War th'Immortals wage: Such Horrors rend
The World's vaſt Concave, when the Gods contend.
Firſt ſilver-ſhafted Phoebus took the Plain
Againſt blue Neptune, Monarch of the Main:
The God of Arms his Giant Bulk diſplay'd,
Oppos'd to Pallas, War's triumphant Maid.
Againſt Latona march'd the Son of May;
The quiver'd Dian, Siſter of the Day,
(Her golden Arrows ſounding at her ſide)
Saturnia, Majeſty of Heav'n, defy'd.
With fiery Vulcan laſt in Battle ſtands
The ſacred Flood that rolls on golden Sands;
[200] Xanthus his Name with thoſe of heavenly Birth,
But call'd Scamander by the Sons of Earth.
While thus the Gods in various League engage,
Achilles glow'd with more than mortal Rage:
Hector he ſought; in ſearch of Hector turn'd
His Eyes around, for Hector only burn'd;
And burſt like Light'ning thro' the Ranks, and vow'd
To glut the God of Battles with his Blood.
Aeneas was the firſt who dar'd to ſtay;
Apollo wedg'd him in the Warrior's Way,
But ſwell'd his Boſom with undaunted Might,
Half-forc'd, and half-perſuaded to the Fight.
Like young Lycaon, of the Royal Line,
In Voice and Aſpect, ſeem'd the Pow'r divine;
And bade the Chief reflect, how late with Scorn
In diſtant Threats he brav'd the Goddeſs-born.
Then thus the Hero of Anchiſes' Strain.
To meet Pelides you perſuade in vain:
Already have I met, nor void of Fear
Obſerv'd the Fury of his flying Spear;
From Ida's Woods he chas'd us to the Field,
Our Force he ſcatter'd, and our Herds he kill'd;
[201] Lyrneſſus, Pedaſus in Aſhes lay;
But (Jove aſſiſting) I ſurviv'd the Day.
Elſe had I ſunk oppreſt in fatal Fight,
By fierce Achilles and Minerva's Might.
Where'ere he mov'd, the Goddeſs ſhone before,
And bath'd his brazen Lance in hoſtile Gore.
What mortal Man Achilles can ſuſtain?
Th'Immortals guard him thro' the dreadful Plain,
And ſuffer not his Dart to fall in vain.
Were God my Aid, this Arm ſhould check his Pow'r,
Tho' ſtrong in Battel as a brazen Tow'r.
To whom the Son of Jove, That God implore,
And be, what great Achilles was before.
From heav'nly Venus thou deriv'ſt thy Strain,
And he, but from a Siſter of the Main;
An aged Sea-God, Father of his Line,
But Jove himſelf the ſacred Source of thine.
Then lift thy Weapon for a noble Blow,
Nor fear the vaunting of a mortal Foe.
This ſaid, and Spirit breath'd into his Breaſt,
Thro' the thick Troops th'embolden'd Hero preſt:
[202] His vent'rous Act the white-arm'd Queen ſurvey'd,
And thus, aſſembling all the Pow'rs, ſhe ſaid.
Behold an Action, Gods! that claims your Care,
Lo great Aeneas ruſhing to the War;
Againſt Pelides he directs his Courſe,
Phoebus impells, and Phoebus gives him Force.
Reſtrain his bold Career; at leaſt, t'attend
Our favour'd Hero, let ſome Pow'r deſcend.
To guard his Life, and add to his Renown,
We, the great Armament of Heav'n came down.
Hereafter let him fall, as Fates deſign,
That ſpun ſo ſhort his Life's illuſtrious Line:
But leſt ſome adverſe God now croſs his Way,
Give him to know, what Pow'rs aſſiſt this Day:
For how ſhall Mortal ſtand the dire Alarms,
When Heav'ns refulgent Hoſt appear in Arms?
Thus ſhe, and thus the God whoſe Force can make
The ſolid Globe's eternal Baſis ſhake.
Againſt the Might of Man, ſo feeble known,
Why ſhou'd coeleſtial Pow'rs exert their own?
Suffice, from yonder Mount to view the Scene;
And leave to War the Fates of mortal Men.
[203] But if th' Armipotent, or God of Light,
Obſtruct Achilles, or commence the Fight,
Thence on the Gods of Troy we ſwift deſcend:
Full ſoon, I doubt not, ſhall the Conflict end,
And theſe, in Ruin and Confuſion hurl'd,
Yield to our conqu'ring Arms the lower World.
Thus having ſaid, the Tyrant of the Sea
Coerulean Neptune, roſe, and led the Way.
Advanc'd upon the Field there ſtood a Mound
Of Earth congeſted, wall'd, and trench'd around;
In elder Times to guard Alcides made,
(The Work of Trojans, with Minerva's Aid)
What-time, a vengeful Monſter of the Main
Swept the wide Shore, and drove him to the Plain.
Here Neptune, and the Gods of Greece repair,
With Clouds encompaſs'd, and a Veil of Air:
The adverſe Pow'rs, around Apollo laid,
Crown the fair Hills that ſilver Simois ſhade.
In Circle cloſe each heav'nly Party ſate,
Intent to form the future Scheme of Fate;
But mix not yet in Fight, tho' Jove on high
Gives the loud ſignal, and the Heav'ns reply.
[204]
Meanwhile the ruſhing Armies hide the Ground;
The trampled Center yields a hollow Sound:
Steeds cas'd in Mail, and Chiefs in Armour bright,
The gleamy Champain glows with brazen Light.
Amid both Hoſts (a dreadful Space) appear
There, great Achilles, bold Aeneas here.
With tow'ring Strides Aeneas firſt advanc'd;
The nodding Plumage on his Helmet danc'd,
Spread o'er his Breaſt the fencing Shield he bore,
And, as he mov'd, his Jav'lin flam'd before.
Not ſo Pelides; furious to engage,
He ruſh'd impetuous. Such the Lion's Rage,
Who viewing firſt his Foes with ſcornful Eyes,
Tho' all in Arms the peopled City riſe,
Stalks careleſs on, with unregarding Pride;
Till at the length, by ſome brave Youth defy'd,
To His bold Spear the Savage turns alone,
He murmurs Fury with an hollow Groan;
He grins, he foams, he rolls his Eyes around;
Laſh'd by his Tail his heaving ſides reſound;
He calls up all his Rage; he grinds his Teeth,
Reſolv'd on Vengeance, or reſolv'd on Death.
[205] So fierce Achilles on Aeneas flies;
So ſtands Aeneas, and his Force defies.
E'er yet the ſtern Encounter join'd, begun
The Seed of Thetis thus to Venus' Son.
Why comes Aeneas thro' the Ranks ſo far?
Seeks he to meet Achilles' Arm in War,
In hope the Realms of Priam to enjoy,
And prove his Merits to the Throne of Troy?
Grant that beneath thy Lance Achilles dies,
The partial Monarch may refuſe the Prize;
Sons he has many, thoſe thy Pride may quell;
And 'tis his Fault to love thoſe Sons too well.
Or, in reward of thy victorious Hand,
Has Troy propos'd ſome ſpacious Tract of Land?
An ample Foreſt, or a fair Domain,
Of Hills for Vines, and Arable for Grain?
Ev'n this, perhaps, will hardly prove thy Lot:
But can Achilles be ſo ſoon forgot?
Once (as I think) you ſaw this brandiſh'd Spear
And then the great Aeneas ſeem'd to fear.
With hearty Haſte from Ida's Mount he fled,
Nor, till he reach'd Lyrneſſus, turn'd his Head.
[206] Her lofty Walls not long our Progreſs ſtay'd;
Thoſe, Pallas, Jove, and We, in Ruins laid:
In Grecian Chains her captive Race were caſt;
'Tis true, the great Aeneas fled too faſt.
Defrauded of my Conqueſt once before,
What then I loſt, the Gods this Day reſtore.
Go; while thou may'ſt, avoid the threaten'd Fate;
Fools ſtay to feel it, and are wiſe too late.
To this Anchiſes' Son. Such Words employ
To one that fears thee, ſome unwarlike Boy:
Such we diſdain; the beſt may be defy'd
With mean Reproaches, and unmanly Pride:
Unworthy the high Race from which we came,
Proclaim'd ſo loudly by the Voice of Fame,
Each from illuſtrious Fathers draws his Line;
Each Goddeſs-born; half human, half divine.
Thetis' this Day, or Venus' Offspring dies,
And Tears ſhall trickle from coeleſtial Eyes:
For when two Heroes, thus deriv'd, contend,
'Tis not in Words the glorious ſtrife can end.
If yet thou farther ſeek to learn my Birth
(A Tale reſounded thro' the ſpacious Earth)
[207] Hear how the glorious Origine we prove
From ancient Dardanus, the firſt from Jove:
Dardania's Walls he rais'd; for Ilion, then,
(The City ſince of many-languag'd Men)
Was not. The Natives were content to till
The ſhady Foot of Ida's Fount-ful Hill.
From Dardanus, great Erichthonius ſprings,
The richeſt, once, of Aſia's wealthy Kings;
Three thouſand Mares his ſpacious Paſtures bred,
Three thouſand Foals beſide their Mothers fed.
Boreas, enamour'd of the ſprightly Train,
Conceal'd his Godhead in a flowing Mane,
With Voice diſſembled to his Loves he neigh'd,
And cours'd the dappled Beauties o'er the Mead:
Hence ſprung twelve others of unrival'd Kind,
Swift as their Mother Mares, and Father Wind.
Theſe lightly skimming, when they ſwept the Plain,
Nor ply'd the Graſs, nor bent the tender Grain;
And when along the level Seas they flew,
Scarce on the Surface curl'd the briny Dew.
Such Erichthonius was: From him there came
The ſacred Tros, of whom the Trojan Name.
[208] Three Sons renown'd adorn'd his nuptial Bed,
Ilus, Aſſaracus, and Ganymed:
The matchleſs Ganymed, divinely fair,
Whom Heaven enamour'd ſnatch'd to upper Air,
To bear the Cup of Jove (Aetherial Gueſt)
The Grace and Glory of th'Ambroſial Feaſt.
The two remaining Sons the Line divide:
Firſt roſe Laomedon from Ilus' Side;
From him Tithonus, now in Cares grown old,
And Priam, (bleſt with Hector, brave and bold:)
Clytius and Lampus, ever-honour'd Pair;
And Hicetaon, Thunderbolt of War.
From great Aſſaracus ſprung Capys, He
Begat Anchiſes, and Anchiſes me.
Such is our Race: 'Tis Fortune gives us Birth,
But Jove alone endues the Soul with Worth:
He, Source of Pow'r and Might! with boundleſs Sway,
All human Courage, gives, or takes away.
Long in the Field of Words we may contend,
Reproach is infinite, and knows no end,
Arm'd or with Truth or Falſhood, Right or Wrong,
So voluble a Weapon is the Tongue;
[209] Wounded, we wound; and neither ſide can fail,
For ev'ry Man has equal Strength to rail:
Women alone, when in the Streets they jar,
Perhaps excel us in this wordy War;
Like us they ſtand, encompaſs'd with the Crowd,
And vent their Anger, impotent and loud.
Ceaſe then—Our Buſineſs in the Field of Fight
Is not to queſtion, but to prove our Might.
To all thoſe Inſults thou haſt offer'd here,
Receive this Anſwer: 'Tis my flying Spear.
He ſpoke. With all his Force the Jav'lin flung,
Fix'd deep, and loudly in the Buckler rung.
Far on his out-ſtretch'd Arm, Pelides held
(To meet the thund'ring Lance) his dreadful Shield,
That trembled as it ſtuck; nor void of Fear
Saw, e'er it fell, th'immeaſurable Spear.
His Fears were vain; impenetrable Charms
Secur'd the Temper of th'Aetherial Arms.
Thro' two ſtrong Plates the Point its Paſſage held,
But ſtopp'd, and reſted, by the third repell'd;
Five Plates of various Metal, various Mold,
Compos'd the Shield; of Braſs each outward Fold,
Of Tin each inward, and the middle Gold:
[210] There ſtuck the Lance. Then riſing e'er he threw,
The forceful Spear of great Achilles flew,
And pierc'd the Dardan Shield's extremeſt Bound,
Where the ſhrill Braſs return'd a ſharper Sound:
Thro' the thin Verge the Pelian Weapon glides,
And the ſlight Cov'ring of expanded Hydes.
Aeneas his contracted Body bends,
And o'er him high the riven Targe extends,
Sees, thro' its parting Plates, the upper Air,
And at his Back perceives the quiv'ring Spear:
A Fate ſo near him, chills his Soul with Fright,
And ſwims before his Eyes the many-colour'd Light.
Achilles, ruſhing in with dreadful Cries,
Draws his broad Blade, and at Aeneas flies:
Aeneas rouzing as the Foe came on,
(With Force collected) heaves a mighty Stone:
A Maſs enormous! which in modern Days
No two of Earth's degen'rate Sons could raiſe
But Ocean's God, whoſe Earthquakes rock the Ground,
Saw the Diſtreſs, and mov'd the Pow'rs around.
Lo! on the Brink of Fate Aeneas ſtands,
An inſtant Victim to Achilles Hands:
[211] By Phoebus urg'd; but Phoebus has beſtow'd
His Aid in vain: The Man o'erpow'rs the God.
And can ye ſee this righteous Chief attone
With guiltleſs Blood, for Vices not his own?
To all the Gods his conſtant Vows were paid;
Sure, tho' he wars for Troy, he claims our Aid.
Fate wills not this; nor thus can Jove reſign
The future Father of the Dardan Line:
The firſt great Anceſtor obtain'd his Grace,
And ſtill his Love deſcends on all the Race.
For Priam now, and Priam's faithleſs Kind,
At length are odious to th'all-ſeeing Mind;
On great Aeneas ſhall devolve the Reign,
And Sons ſucceeding Sons, the laſting Line ſuſtain.
The great Earth-ſhaker thus: To whom replies
Th'Imperial Goddeſs with the radiant Eyes.
Good as he is, to immolate or ſpare
The Dardan Prince, O Neptune, be thy Care;
Pallas and I, by all that Gods can bind,
Have ſworn Deſtruction to the Trojan Kind;
Not ev'n an Inſtant to protract their Fate,
Or ſave one Member of the ſinking State;
[212] Till her laſt Flame be quench'd with her laſt Gore,
And ev'n her crumbling Ruins are no more.
The King of Ocean to the Fight deſcends,
Thro' all the whiſtling Darts his Courſe he bends,
Swift interpos'd between the Warriors flies,
And caſts thick Darkneſs o'er Achilles' Eyes.
From great Aeneas' Shield the Spear he drew,
And at its Maſter's Feet the Weapon threw.
That done, with Force divine, he ſnatch'd on high
The Dardan Prince, and bore him thro' the Sky,
Smooth-gliding without Step, above the Heads,
Of warring Heroes, and of bounding Steeds.
Till at the Battel's utmoſt Verge they light,
Where the ſlow Caucons cloſe the Rear of Fight.
The Godhead there (his heav'nly Form confeſs'd)
With Words like theſe the panting Chief addreſs'd.
What Pow'r, O Prince, with Force inferior far,
Urg'd thee to meet Achilles' Arm in War?
Henceforth beware, nor antedate thy Doom,
Defrauding Fate of all thy Fame to come.
[213] But when the Day decreed (for come it muſt)
Shall lay this dreadful Hero in the Duſt,
Let then the Furies of that Arm be known,
Secure, no Grecian Force tranſcends thy own.
With that, he left him wond'ring as he lay,
Then from Achilles chas'd the Miſt away:
Sudden, returning with the Stream of Light,
The Scene of War came ruſhing on his Sight.
Then thus, amaz'd: What Wonders ſtrike my Mind!
My Spear, that parted on the Wings of Wind,
Laid here before me! and the Dardan Lord
That fell this inſtant, vaniſh'd from my Sword!
I thought alone with Mortals to contend,
But Pow'rs coeleſtial ſure this Foe defend.
Great as he is, our Arm he ſcarce will try,
Content for once, with all his Gods, to fly.
Now then let others bleed—This ſaid, aloud
He vents his Fury, and inflames the Crowd.
O Greeks (he cries, and every Rank alarms)
Join Battel, Man to Man, and Arms to Arms!
'Tis not in me, tho' favour'd by the Sky,
To mow whole Troops, and make whole Armies fly:
[214] No God can ſingly ſuch a Hoſt engage,
Not Mars himſelf, nor great Minerva's Rage.
But whatſoe'er Achilles can inſpire,
Whate'er of active Force, or acting Fire,
Whate'er this Heart can prompt, or Hand obey;
All, all Achilles, Greeks! is yours to Day.
Thro' yon wide Hoſt this Arm ſhall ſcatter Fear,
And thin the Squadrons with my ſingle Spear.
He ſaid: Nor leſs elate with martial Joy,
The god-like Hector warm'd the Troops of Troy.
Trojans to War! Think Hector leads you on;
Nor dread the Vaunts of Peleus' haughty Son;
Deeds muſt decide our Fate. Ev'n thoſe with Words
Inſult the Brave, who tremble at their Swords:
The weakeſt Atheiſt-Wretch all Heav'n defies,
But ſhrinks and ſhudders, when the Thunder flies.
Nor from yon' Boaſter ſhall your Chief retire,
Not tho' his Heart were Steel, his Hands were Fire;
That Fire, that Steel, your Hector ſhou'd withſtand,
And brave that vengeful Heart, that dreadful Hand.
Thus, breathing Rage thro' all the Hero ſaid;
A Wood of Lances riſes round his Head,
[215] Clamors on Clamors tempeſt all the Air,
They join, they throng, they thicken to the War.
But Phoebus warns him from high Heav'n, to ſhun
The ſingle Fight with Thetis' god-like Son;
More ſafe to combate in the mingled Band,
Nor tempt too near the Terrors of his Hand.
He hears, obedient to the God of Light,
And plung'd within the Ranks, awaits the Fight.
Then fierce Achilles, ſhouting to the Skies,
On Troy's whole Force with boundleſs Fury flies.
Firſt falls Iphytion, at his Army's Head;
Brave was the Chief, and brave the Hoſt he led;
From great Otrynteus he deriv'd his Blood,
His Mother was a Nais of the Flood;
Beneath the Shades of Tmolus, crown'd with Snow,
From Hyde's Walls, he rul'd the Lands below.
Fierce as he ſprings, the Sword his Head divides;
The parted Viſage falls on equal Sides:
With loud-reſounding Arms he ſtrikes the Plain;
While thus Achilles glories o'er the Slain.
Lye there Otryntides! the Trojan Earth
Receives thee dead, tho' Gygae boaſt thy Birth;
[216] Thoſe beauteous Fields where Hyllus' Waves are roll'd,
And plenteous Hermus ſwells with Tides of Gold,
Are thine no more—Th'inſulting Hero ſaid,
And left him ſleeping in Eternal Shade.
The rolling Wheels of Greece the Body tore,
And daſh'd their Axles with no vulgar Gore.
Demoleon next, Antenor's Offspring, laid
Breathleſs in Duſt, the Price of Raſhneſs paid.
Th'impatient Steel with full-deſcending Sway
Forc'd thro' his brazen Helm its furious Way,
Reſiſtleſs drove the batter'd Skull before,
And daſh'd and mingled all the Brains with Gore.
This ſees Hippodamas, and ſeiz'd with Fright,
Deſerts his Chariot for a ſwifter Flight:
The Lance arreſts him: an ignoble Wound
The panting Trojan rivets to the Ground.
He groans away his Soul: Not louder roars
At Neptunes Shrine on Helice's high Shores
The Victim Bull; the Rocks rebellow round,
And Ocean liſtens to the grateful Sound.
Then fell on Polydore his vengeful Rage,
The youngeſt Hope of Priam's ſtooping Age:
[217] (Whoſe Feet for Swiftneſs in the Race ſurpaſt)
Of all his Sons, the deareſt, and the laſt.
To the forbidden Field he takes his Flight
In the firſt Folly of a youthful Knight,
To vaunt his Swiftneſs, wheels around the Plain,
But vaunts not long, with all his Swiftneſs ſlain.
Struck where the croſſing Belts unite behind,
And golden Rings the double Back-plate join'd:
Forth thro' the Navel burſt the thrilling Steel;
And on his Knees with piercing Shrieks he fell;
The ruſhing Entrails pour'd upon the Ground
His Hands collect; and Darkneſs wraps him round.
When Hector view'd, all ghaſtly in his Gore
Thus ſadly ſlain, th'unhappy Polydore;
A Cloud of Sorrow overcaſt his Sight,
His Soul no longer brook'd the diſtant Fight,
Full in Achilles' dreadful Front he came,
And ſhook his Jav'lin like a waving Flame.
The Son of Peleus ſees, with Joy poſſeſt,
His Heart high-bounding in his riſing Breaſt:
And, lo! the Man, on whom black Fates attend;
The Man, that ſlew Achilles, in his Friend!
[218] No more ſhall Hector's and Pelides' Spear
Turn from each other in the Walks of War—
Then with revengeful Eyes he ſcan'd him o'er:
Come, and receive thy Fate! He ſpake no more.
Hector, undaunted, thus. Such Words employ
To one that dreads thee, ſome unwarlike Boy:
Such we could give, defying and defy'd,
Mean Intercourſe of Obloquy and Pride!
I know thy Force to mine ſuperior far;
But Heav'n alone confers Succeſs in War:
Mean as I am, the Gods may guide my Dart,
And give it Entrance in a braver Heart.
Then parts the Lance: But Pallas' heav'nly Breath,
Far from Achilles wafts the winged Death:
The bidden Dart again to Hector flies,
And at the Feet of its great Maſter lies.
Achilles cloſes with his hated Foe,
His Heart and Eyes with flaming Fury glow:
But preſent to his Aid, Apollo ſhrouds
The favour'd Hero in a Veil of Clouds.
Thrice ſtruck Pelides with indignant Heart,
Thrice in impaſſive Air he plung'd the Dart:
[219] The Spear a fourth time bury'd in the Cloud,
He foams with Fury, and exclaims aloud.
Wretch! Thou haſt ſcap'd again. Once more thy Flight
Has ſav'd thee, and the partial God of Light.
But long thou ſhalt not thy juſt Fate withſtand,
If any Pow'r aſſiſt Achilles' Hand.
Fly then inglorious! But thy Flight this Day
Whole Hecatombs of Trojan Ghoſts ſhall pay.
With that, he gluts his Rage on Numbers ſlain:
Then Dryops tumbled to th'enſanguin'd Plain,
Pierc'd thro' the Neck: He left him panting there,
And ſtopp'd Demuchus, great Philetor's Heir,
Gigantic Chief! Deep gaſh'd th'enormous Blade,
And for the Soul an ample Paſſage made.
Laogonus and Dardanus expire,
The valiant Sons of an unhappy Sire;
Both in one Inſtant from the Chariot hurl'd,
Sunk in one Inſtant to the nether World;
This Diff'rence only their ſad Fates afford,
That one the Spear deſtroy'd, and one the Sword.
Nor leſs unpity'd young Alaſtor bleeds;
In vain his Youth, in vain his Beauty pleads:
[220] In vain he begs thee with a Suppliant's Moan,
To ſpare a Form, and Age ſo like thy own!
Unhappy Boy! no Pray'r, no moving Art
E'er bent that fierce, inexorable Heart!
While yet he trembled at his Knees, and cry'd,
The ruthleſs Falchion op'd his tender Side;
The panting Liver pours a Flood of Gore,
That drowns his Boſom, till he pants no more.
Thro' Mulius' Head then drove th'impetuous Spear,
The Warrior falls, transfix'd from Ear to Ear.
Thy Life Echeclus! next the Sword bereaves,
Deep thro' his Front the pond'rous Falchion cleaves;
Warm'd in the Brain the ſmoaking Weapon lies,
The purple Death comes floating o'er his Eyes,
Then brave Deucalion dy'd: The Dart was flung
Where the knit Nerves the plaint Elbow ſtrung;
He dropp'd his Arm, an unaſſiſting Weight,
And ſtood all impotent, expecting Fate:
Full on his Neck the falling Falchion ſped,
From his broad Shoulders hew'd his creſted Head:
Forth from the Bone the ſpinal Marrow flies,
And ſunk in Duſt, the Corps extended lies.
[221] Rhigmus, whoſe Race from fruitful Thracia came,
(The Son of Pireus, an illuſtrious Name,)
Succeeds to Fate: The Spear his Belly rends;
Prone from his Car the thund'ring Chief deſcends,
The Squire who ſaw expiring on the Ground
His proſtrate Maſter, rein'd the Steeds around;
His Back ſcarce turn'd, the Pelian Jav'lin gor'd;
And ſtretch'd the Servant o'er his dying Lord.
As when a Flame the winding Valley fills,
And runs on crackling Shrubs between the Hills;
Then o'er the Stubble up the Mountain flies,
Fires the high Woods, and blazes to the Skies,
This way and that, the ſpreading Torrent roars;
So ſweeps the Hero thro' the waſted Shores;
Around him wide, immenſe Deſtruction pours,
And Earth is delug'd with the ſanguine Show'rs.
As with Autumnal Harveſts cover'd o'er,
And thick beſtrown, lies Ceres' ſacred Floor,
When round and round with never-weary'd Pain,
The trampling Steers beat out th'unnumber'd Grain.
So the fierce Courſers, as the Chariot rolls,
Tread down whole Ranks, and cruſh out Hero's Souls.
[222] Daſh'd from their Hoofs while o'er the Dead they fly,
Black bloody Drops the ſmoaking Chariot die:
The ſpiky Wheels thro' Heaps of Carnage tore;
And thick the groaning Axles dropp'd with Gore.
High o'er the Scene of Death Achilles ſtood,
All grim with Duſt, all horrible in Blood:
Yet ſtill inſatiate, ſtill with Rage on flame;
Such is the Luſt of never-dying Fame!

OBSERVATIONS ON THE Twentieth Book.
[225]OBSERVATIONS ON THE TWENTIETH BOOK.

[]

I.

‘VERSE 5. Then Jove to Themis gives Command, &c.]’ The Poet is now to bring his Hero again into Action, and he introduces him with the utmoſt Pomp and Grandeur: The Gods are aſſembled only upon this account, and Jupiter permits ſeveral Deities to join with the Trojans, and hinder Achilles from over-ruling Deſtiny itſelf.

The Circumſtance of ſending Themis to aſſemble the Gods is very beautiful; ſhe is the Goddeſs of Juſtice; the Trojans by the Rape of Helen, and by repeated Perjuries having broken her Laws, ſhe is the propereſt Meſſenger to ſummon a Synod to bring them to puniſhment. Euſtathius.

Proclus has given a farther Explanation of this. Themis or Juſtice (ſays he) is made to aſſemble the Gods round Jupiter, becauſe it is from him that all the Powers of Nature take their Virtue, and receive their Orders; and Jupiter ſends them to the Relief of both Parties, to ſhew that nothing [226] falls out but by his Permiſſion, and that neither Angels, nor Men, nor the Elements, act but according to the Power which is given them.

II.

‘VERSE 15. All but old Ocean.]’ Euſtathius gives two Reaſons why Oceanus was abſent from this Aſſembly: The one is becauſe he is fabled to be the Original of all the Gods, and it would have been a peice of Indecency for him to ſee the Deities, who were all his Deſcendents, war upon one another by joining adverſe Parties: The other Reaſon he draws from the Allegory of Oceanus, which ſignifies the Element of Water, and conſequently the whole Element could not aſcend into the Aether; But whereas Neptune, the Rivers, and the Fountains are ſaid to have been preſent, this is no way impoſſible, if we conſider it in an allegorical Senſe, which implies, that the Rivers, Seas, and Fountains ſupply the Air with Vapours, and by that means aſcend into the Aether.

III.

VERSE 35.
Coeleſtial Pow'rs deſcend,
And as your Minds direct, your Succour lend To either Hoſt—]

Euſtathius informs us, that the Ancients were very much divided upon this Paſſage of Homer. Some have criticiſed it, and others have anſwer'd their Criticiſm; but he reports nothing more than the Objection, without tranſmitting the Anſwer to us. Thoſe who condemned Homer, ſaid Jupiter was for the Trojans; he ſaw the Greeks were the ſtrongeſt, ſo permitted the Gods to declare themſelves and go to the Battel. But therein that God is deceived, and does not gain his Point; for the Gods who favour the Greeks being ſtronger than thoſe who favour the Trojans, the Greeks will ſtill have the ſame Advantage. I do not know what Anſwer the Partiſans of Homer made, but for my part, I think this Objection is more ingenious than ſolid. Jupiter does not pretend [227] that the Trojans ſhou'd be ſtronger than the Greeks, he has only a mind that the Decree of Deſtiny ſhould be executed. Deſtiny had refuſed to Achilles the Glory of taking Troy, but if Achilles fights ſingly againſt the Trojans, he is capable of forcing Deſtiny; as Homer has already elſewhere ſaid, that there had been brave Men who had done ſo. Whereas if the Gods took part, tho thoſe who followed the Grecians were ſtronger than thoſe who were for the Trojans, the latter wou'd however be ſtrong enough to ſupport Deſtiny, and to hinder Achilles from making himſelf Maſter of Troy: This was Jupiter's ſole View. Thus is this Paſſage far from being blameable, it is on the contrary very beautiful, and infinitely glorious for Achilles. Dacier.

IV.

VERSE 41.
—Or Ilion's ſacred Wall
May fall this Day, tho' Fate forbid the Fall.]

Monſ. de la Motte criticizes on this Paſſage, as thinking it abſurd and contradictory to Homer's own Syſtem, to imagine, that what Fate had ordained ſhould not come to paſs. Jupiter here ſeems to fear that Troy will be taken this very Day in ſpite of Deſtiny, [...]. M. Boivin anſwers, that the Explication hereof depends wholly upon the Principles of the ancient Pagan Theology and their Doctrine concerning Fate. It is certain, according to Homer and Virgil, that which Deſtiny had decreed did not conſtantly happen in the preciſe Time mark'd by Deſtiny, the fatal Moment was not to be retarded, but might be haſtened: For example, that of the Death of Dido was advanced by the Blow ſhe gave herſelf; her Hour was not then come.

—Nec fato, merita nec morte peribat,
Sed miſera ante diem—

Every violent Death was accounted [...], that is, before the fated Time, or (which is the ſame thing) againſt the natural Order, turbato mortalitatis ordine, as the Romans expreſs'd [228] it. And the ſame might be ſaid of any Misfortunes which Men drew upon themſelves by their own ill Conduct. (See the 37th Note on lib. 16.) In a word, it muſt be allowed that it was not eaſy, in the Pagan Religion, to form the juſeſ Ideas upon a Doctrine ſo difficult to be clear'd; and upon which it is no great wonder if a Poet ſhould not always be perfectly conſiſtent with himſelf, when it has puzzel'd ſuch a Number of Divines and Philoſophers.

V.

VERSE 44.
On adverſe Parts the warring Gods engage,
Heav'ns awful Queen, &c.]

Euſahius has a very curious Remark upon this Diviſion of the Gods in Homer, which M. Dacier has entirely borrowed (as indeed no Commentator ever borrowed more, or acknowledg'd leſs, than ſhe has every where done from Euſtathius.) This Diviſion, ſays he, is not made at random, but founded upon very ſolid Reaſons, drawn from the Nature of thoſe two Nations. He places on the Side of the Greeks all the Gods who preſide over Arts and Sciences, to ſignify how much in that Reſpect the Greeks excell'd all other Nations. Juno, Pallas, Neptune, Mercury and Vulcan are for the Greeks; Juno, not only as the Goddeſs who preſides over Marriage, and who is concern'd to revenge an Injury done to the nuptial Bed, but likewiſe as the Goddeſs who repreſents Monarchical Government, which was better eſtabliſh'd in Greece than any where elſe; Pallas, becauſe being the Goddeſs of War and Wiſdom, ſhe ought to aſſiſt thoſe who are wrong'd; beſides the Greeks underſtood the Art of War better than the Barbarians; Neptune, becauſe he was an Enemy to the Trojans upon account of Laomedon's Perſidiouſneſs, and becauſe moſt of the Greeks being come from the Iſlands or Peninſula's they were in ſome ſort his Subjects; Mercury, becauſe he is a God who preſides over Stratagems of War, and becauſe Troy was taken by that of the wooden Horſe; and laſtly Vulcan, as the declared Enemy of Mars and of all Adulterers, and as the Father of Arts.

VI.

[229]

‘VERSE 52. Mars, fiery-helm'd, the Laughter loving Dame.]’ The Reaſons why Mars and Venus engage for the Trojans are very obvious; the Point in hand was to favour Raviſhers and Debauchees. But the ſame Reaſon, you will ſay, does not ſerve for Apollo, Diana and Latona. It is urg'd that Apollo is for the Trojans, becauſe of the Darts and Arrows which were the principal Strength of the Barbarians; and Diana, becauſe ſhe preſided over Dancing, and thoſe Barbarians were great Dancers; and Latona, as influenc'd by her Children. Xanthus being a Trojan River is intereſted for his Countrey. Euſtathius.

VII.

‘VERSE 75. Above the Sire of Gods, &c.]’ ‘"The Images (ſays Longinus) which Homer gives of the Combate of the Gods, have in 'em ſomething prodigiouſly great and magnificent. We ſee in theſe Verſes, the Earth open'd to its very Center, Hell ready to diſcloſe itſelf, the whole Machine of the World upon the Point to be deſtroyed and overturn'd: To ſhew that in ſuch a Conflict, Heaven and Hell, all Things mortal and immortal, the whole Creation in ſhort was engag'd in this Battel, and all the Extent of Nature in Danger."’

Non ſecus ac ſi qua penitus vi terra dehiſcens
Infernas reſeret Sedes & Regna recludat
Pallida, Diis inviſa, ſuperque immane barathrum
Cernatur, trepidentque immiſſo lumine Manes.
Virgil.

Madam Dacier rightly obſerves that this Copy is inferior to the Original on this account, that Virgil has made a Compariſon of that which Homer made an Action. This occaſions an infinite Difference, which is eaſy to be perceiv'd.

[230] One may compare with this noble Paſſage of Homer, the Battel of the Gods and Giants in Heſiod's Theogony, which is one of the ſublimeſt Parts of that Author; and Milton's Battel of the Angels in the ſixth Book: The Elevation, and Enthuſiaſm of our great Countryman ſeems owing to this Original.

VIII.

‘VERSE 91. Firſt ſilver ſhafted Phoebus took the Plain, &c.]’ With what Art does the Poet engage the Gods in this Conflict! Neptune oppoſes Apollo, which implies that Things moiſt and dry are in continual Diſcord: Pallas fights with Mars, which ſignifies that Raſhneſs and Wiſdom always diſagree: Juno is againſt Diana, that is, nothing more differs from a Marriage State, than Celibacy: Vulcan engages Xanthus, that is, Fire and Water are in perpetual Variance. Thus we have a fine Allegory conceal'd under the Veil of excellent Poetry, and the Reader receives a double Satiſfaction at the ſame time from beautiful Verſes, and an inſtructive Moral. Euſtathius.

IX.

‘VERSE 119. Already have I met, &c.]’ Euſtathius remarks that the Poet lets no Opportunity paſs of inſerting into his Poem the Actions that preceded the tenth Year of the War, eſpecially the Actions of Achilles the Hero of it. In this place he brings in Aeneas extolling the Bravery of his Enemy and confeſſing himſelf to have formerly been vanquiſh'd by him: At the ſame time he preſerves a piece of ancient Hiſtory by inſerting into the Poem the Hero's Conqueſt of Pedaſus and Lyrneſſus.

X.

VERSE 121.
From Ida's Woods he chas'd us—
But Jove aſſiſting I ſurviv'd.]

It is remarkable that Aeneas owed his Safety to his Flight from Achilles, but it may ſeem ſtrange that Achilles who was [231] ſo fam'd for his Swiftneſs, ſhould not be able to overtake him, even with Minerva for his Guide. Euſtathius anſwers, that this might proceed from the better Knowledge Aeneas might have of the Ways and Defiles: Achilles being a Stranger, and Aeneas having long kept his Father's Flocks in thoſe Parts.

He farther obſerves, that the Word [...] diſcovers that it was in the Night that Achilles purſu'd Aeneas.

XI.

‘VERSE 174. Advanc'd upon the Field there ſtood a Mound, &c.]’ It may not be unneceſſary to explain this Paſſage to make it underſtood by the Reader: The Poet is very ſhort in the Deſcription, as ſuppoſing the Fact already known, and haſtens to the Combat between Achilles and Aeneas. This is very judicious in Homer not to dwell on a piece of Hiſtory that had no relation to his Action, when he has rais'd the Reader's Expectation by ſo pompous an Introduction, and made the Gods themſelves his Spectators.

The Story is as follows. Laomedon having defrauded Neptune of the Reward he promis'd him for the building the Walls of Troy, Neptune ſent a monſtrous Whale, to which Laomedon expoſed his Daughter Heſione: But Hercules having undertaken to deſtroy the Monſter, the Trojans rais'd an Intrenchment to defend Hercules from his Purſuit: This being a remarkable piece of Conduct in the Trojans, it gave occaſion to the Poet to adorn a plain Narration with Fiction by aſcribing the Work to Pallas the Goddeſs of Wiſdom. Euſtathius.

XII.

‘VERSE 180. Here Neptune, and the Gods, &c.]’ I wonder why Euſtathius and all other Commentators ſhould be ſilent upon this Receſs of the Gods: It ſeems ſtrange at the firſt view, that ſo many Deities, after having enter'd the Scene of Action, ſhou'd perform ſo ſhort a Part, and immediately become [232] themſelves Spectators? I conceive the reaſon of this Conduct in the Poet to be, that Achilles has been inactive during the greateſt part of the Poem; and as he is the Hero of it, ought to be the chief Character in it: The Poet therefore withdraws the Gods from the Field that Achilles may have the whole Honour of the Day, and not act in ſubordination to the Deities: Beſides, the Poem now draws to a Concluſion, and it is neceſſary for Homer to enlarge upon the Exploits of Achilles, that he may leave a noble Idea of his Valour upon the Mind of the Reader.

XIII.

‘VERSE 214, &c. The Converſation of Achilles and Aeneas.]’ I ſhall lay before the Reader the Words of Euſtathius in defence of this Paſſage, which I confeſs ſeems to me to be faulty in the Poet. The Reader (ſays he) would naturally expect ſome great and terrible Atchievements ſhould enſue from Achilles upon his firſt entrance upon Action. The Poet ſeems to prepare us for it, by his magnificent Introduction of him into the Field: But inſtead of a Storm, we have a Calm; he follows the ſame Method in this Book as he did in the third, where when both Armies were ready to engage in a general Conflict, he ends the Day in a ſingle Combate between two Heroes: Thus he always agreeably ſurprizes his Readers. Beſides the Admirers of Homer reap a farther Advantage from this Converſation of the Heroes: There is a Chain of ancient Hiſtory as well as a Series of poetical Beauties.

Madam Dacier's Excuſe is very little better: And to ſhew that this is really a Fault in the Poet, I believe I may appeal to the Taſte of every Reader who certainly finds himſelf diſappointed: Our Expectation is rais'd to ſee Gods and Heroes engage, when ſuddenly it all ſinks into ſuch a Combat in which neither Party receive a Wound; and (what is more extraordinary) the Gods are made the Spectators of ſo ſmall an Action! What occaſion was there for Thunder, Earthquakes, and deſcending Deities, to introduce a Matter of ſo little Importance? [233] Neither is it any Excuſe to ſay he has given us a peice of ancient Hiſtory; We expected to read a Poet, not an Hiſtorian. In ſhort, after the greateſt Preparation for Action imaginable, he ſuſpends the whole Narration, and from the Heat of a Poet, cools at once into the Simplicity of an Hiſtorian.

XIV.

VERSE 258.
The Natives were content to till
The ſhady Foot of Ida's Fount-ful Hill.

[...]
[...]
[...]

Plato and Strabo underſtand this Paſſage as favouring the Opinion that the Mountainous Parts of the World were firſt inhabited, after the univerſal Deluge; and that Mankind by degrees deſcended to dwell in the lower parts of the Hills (which they would have the Word [...] ſignify) and only in greater proceſs of Time ventur'd into the Valleys: Virgil however ſeems to have taken this Word in a Senſe ſomething different where he alludes to this Paſſage. Aen. 3. 109.

—Nondum Ilium et arces
Pergameae ſteterant, habitabant vallibus imis.

XV.

‘VERSE 262. Three thouſand Mares, &c.]’ The Number of the Horſes and Mares of Ericthonius may ſeem incredible, were we not aſſured by Herodotus that there were in the Stud of Cyrus at one time (beſides thoſe for the Service of War) eight hundred Horſes and ſix thouſand ſix hundred Mares. Euſtathius.

XVI.

[234]

‘VERSE 264. Boreas, enamour'd, &c.]’ Homer has the Happineſs of making the leaſt Circumſtance conſiderable; the Subject grows under his Hands, and the plaineſt Matter ſhines in his Dreſs of Poetry: Another Poet would have ſaid theſe Horſes were as ſwift as the Wind, but Homer tells you that they ſprung from Boreas the God of Wind; and thence drew their Swiftneſs.

XVII.

‘VERSE 270. Theſe lightly ſkimming, as they ſwept the Plain.]’ The Poet illuſtrates the Swiftneſs of theſe Horſes by deſcribing them as running over the ſtanding Corn, and Surface of Waters, without making any Impreſſion. Virgil has imitated theſe Lines, and adapts what Homer ſays of theſe Horſes to the Swiftneſs of Camilla. Aen. 7. 809

Illa vel Intactae ſegetis per ſumma volaret
Gramina; nec teneras curſu laeſiſſet ariſtas:
Vel mare per medium, fluctu ſupenſa tumenti
Ferret iter, celeres nec tingeret aequore plantas.

The Reader will eaſily perceive that Virgil's is almoſt a literal Tranſlation: He has imitated the very run of the Verſes, which flow nimbly away in Dactyls, and as ſwift as the Wind they deſcribe.

I cannot but obſerve one thing in favour of Homer, that there can no greater Commendation be given to him, than by conſidering the Conduct of Virgil: who, tho' undoubtedly the greateſt Poet after him, ſeldom ventures to vary much from his Original in the Paſſages he takes from him, as in a Deſpair of improving, and contented if he can but equal them.

XVIII.

[235]

‘VERSE 280. To bear the Cup of Jove.]’ To be a Cup-bearer has in all Ages and Nations been reckon'd an honourable Employment: Sappho mentions it in honour of her Brother Larichus, that he was Cup-bearer to the Nobles of Mitylene: The Son of Menelaus executed the ſame Office, Hebe and Mercury ſerv'd the Gods in the ſame Station.

It was the Cuſtom in the Pagan Worſhip to employ noble Youths to pour the Wine upon the Sacrifice: In this Office Ganymede might probably attend upon the Altar of Jupiter, and from thence was fabled to be his Cup-bearer. Euſtath.

XIX.

‘VERSE 339. But Ocean's God, &c.]’ The Conduct of the Poet in making Aeneas owe his Safety to Neptune in this place is remarkable: Neptune is an Enemy to the Trojans, yet he dares not ſuffer ſo pious a Man to fall, leſt Jupiter ſhould be offended: This ſhews, ſays Euſtathius, that Piety is always under the Protection of God; and that Favours are ſometimes conferred not out of Kindneſs, but to prevent a greater Detriment; thus Neptune preſerves Aeneas, leſt Jupiter ſhould revenge his Death upon the Grecians.

XX.

‘VERSE 345. And can ye ſee this righteous Chief, &c.]’ Tho' Aeneas is repreſented a Man of great Courage, yet his Piety is his moſt ſhining Character: This is the reaſon why he is always the Care of the Gods, and they favour him conſtantly thro' the whole Poem with their immediate Protection.

'Tis in this Light that Virgil has preſented him to the View of the Reader: His Valour bears but the ſecond Place in the Aeneis. In the Ilias indeed he is drawn in Miniature, and in the Aeneis in full Length; but there are the ſame Features in the Copy, which are in the Original, and he is the ſame Aeneas in Rome as he was in Troy.

XXI.

[236]
VERSE 355.
On great Aeneas ſhall devolve the Reign,
And Sons ſucceeding Sons the Line ſuſtain.

The Story of Aeneas his founding the Roman Empire gave Virgil the fineſt Occaſion of paying a Complement to Auguſtus, and his Countrymen, who were fond of being thought the Deſcendants of Troy. He has tranſlated theſe two Lines literally, and put them in the nature of a Prophecy; as the Favourers of the Opinion of Aeneas's ſailing into Italy, imagine Homer's to be.

[...]
[...]

Hic domus Aeneae cunctis dominabitur oris,
Et nati natorum & qui naſcentur ab illis.

There has been a very ancient Alteration made (as Strabo obſerves) in theſe two Lines by ſubſtituting [...] in the room of [...]. It is not improbable but Virgil might give occaſion for it, by his cunctis dominabitur oris.

Euſtathius does not entirely diſcountenance this Story: If it be underſtood, ſays he, as a Prophecy, the Poet might take it from the Sibylline Oracles. He farther remarks that the Poet artfully interweaves into his Poem not only the things which happen'd before the Commencement, and in the Proſecution of the Trojan War; but other Matters of Importance which happen'd even after that War was brought to a Concluſion. Thus for inſtance, we have here a peice of Hiſtory not extant in any other Author, by which we are inform'd that the Houſe of Aeneas ſucceeded to the Crown of Troas, and to the Kingdom of Priam. Euſtathius.

This Paſſage is very conſiderable, for it ruins the famous Chimaera of the Roman Empire, and of the Family of the Caeſars, who both pretended to deduce their Original from Venus by Aeneas, alledging that after the taking of Troy, Aeneas came into Italy, and this Pretenſion is hereby actually [237] deſtroy'd. This Teſtimony of Homer ought to be look'd upon as an authentick Act, the Fidelity and Verity whereof cannot be queſtioned. Neptune, as much an Enemy as he is to the Trojans, declares that Aeneas, and after him his Poſterity, ſhall reign over the Trojans. Wou'd Homer have put this Prophecy in Neptune's Mouth, if he had not known that Aeneas did not leave Troy, that he reigned therein, and if he had not ſeen in his Time the Deſcendants of that Prince reign there likewiſe? That Poet wrote 260 Years, or thereabouts, after the taking of Troy, and what is very remarkable he wrote in ſome of the Towns of Ionia, that is to ſay, in the Neighbourhood of Phrygia, ſo that the Time and Place give ſuch a Weight to his Depoſition that nothing can invalidate it. All that the Hiſtorians have written concerning Aeneas's Voyage into Italy, ought to be conſider'd as a Romance, made on purpoſe to deſtroy all hiſtorical Truth, for the moſt ancient is poſterior to Homer by many Ages. Before Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus, ſome Writers being ſenſible of the Strength of this Paſſage of Homer, undertook to explain it ſo as to reconcile it with this Fable, and they ſaid that Aeneas, after having been in Italy, return'd to Troy, and left his Son Aſcanius there. Dionyſius of Halicarnaſſus, little ſatisfy'd with this Solution, which did not ſeem to him to be probable, has taken another Method: He would have it that by theſe Words, ‘"He ſhall reign over the Trojans, Homer meant, he ſhall reign over the Trojans whom he ſhall carry with him into Italy. ‘"Is it not poſſible, ſays he, that Aeneas ſhould reign over the Trojans, whom he had taken with him, though ſettled elſewhere?’

That Hiſtorian, who wrote in Rome itſelf, and in the very Reign of Auguſtus, was willing to make his Court to that Prince, by explaining this Paſſage of Homer ſo as to favour the Chimaera he was poſſeſs'd with. And this is a Reproach that may with ſome Juſtice be caſt on him; for Poets may by their Fictions flatter Princes and welcome: Tis their Trade. But for Hiſtorians to corrupt the Gravity and Severity of Hiſtory, to ſubſtitute Fable in the place of Truth, is what ought not to be pardon'd. Strabo was much more religious, for though he wrote his Books of Geography towards [238] the Beginning of Tiberius's Reign, yet he had the Courage to give a right Explication to this Paſſage of Homer, and to aver, that this Poet ſaid, and meant, that Aeneas remain'd at Troy, that he reign'd therein, Priam's whole Race being extinguiſh'd, and that he left the Kingdom to his Children after him. lib. 13. You may ſee this whole Matter diſcuſs'd in a Letter from the famous M. Bochart to M. de Segrais, who has prefix'd it to his Remarks upon the Tranſlation of Virgil.

XXII.

‘VERSE 378. Where the ſlow Caucons cloſe the Rear.]’ The Caucones (ſays Euſtathius) were of Paphlagonian Extract: And this Perhaps was the Reaſon why they are not diſtinctly mention'd in the Catalogue, they being included under the general Name of Paphlagonians: Tho' two Lines are quoted which are ſaid to have been left out by ſome Tranſcriber, and immediately followed this,

[...]

Which Verſes are theſe,

[...]

Or as others read it, [...].

[...]

Or according to others,

[...]

But I believe theſe are not Homer's Lines, but the Addition of ſome Tranſcriber, and tis evident by conſulting the Paſſage from which they are ſaid to have been curtail'd, that they would be abſurd in that place; for the ſecond Line is actually there already, and as theſe Caucons are ſaid to live upon the Banks of the Parthenius, ſo are the Paphlagonians in the above-mention'd Paſſage. It is therefore more probable that the Caucons are included in the Paphlagonians.

XXIII.

[239]
VERSE 467.
—Not louder roars
At Neptune's Shrine on Helice's high Shores, &c.]

In Helice, a Town of Achaia, three quarters of a League from the Gulph of Corinth, Neptune had a magnificent Temple where the Ionians offer'd every Year to him a Sacrifice of a Bull; and it was with theſe People an auſpicious Sign, and a certain Mark, that the Sacrifice would be accepted, if the Bull bellow'd as it was led to the Altar. After the Ionic Migration, which happen'd about 140 Years after the taking of Troy, the Ionians of Aſia aſſembled in the Fields of Priene to celebrate the ſame Feſtival in honour of Heliconian Neptune; and as thoſe of Priene valued themſelves upon being originally of Helice, they choſe for the King of the Sacrifice a young Prienian. It is needleſs to diſpute from whence the Poet has taken his Compariſon; for as he liv'd a 100, or 120 Years after the Ionic Migration, it cannot be doubted but he took it in the Aſian Ionia, and at Priene itſelf; where he had doubtleſs often aſſiſted at that Sacrifice, and been Witneſs of the Ceremonies therein obſerved. This Poet always appears ſtrongly addicted to the Cuſtoms of the Ionians, which makes ſome conjecture that he was an Ionian himſelf. Euſtathius. Dacier.

XXIV.

‘VERSE 471. Then fell on Polydore his vengeful Rage.]’ Euripides in his Hecuba has follow'd another Tradition when he makes Polydorus the Son of Priam, and of Hecuba, and makes him ſlain by Polymneſtor King of Thrace, after the taking of Troy; for according to Homer, he is not the Son of Hecuba, but of Laothoe, as he ſays in the following Book, and is ſlain by Achilles: Virgil too has rather choſen to follow Euripides than Homer.

XXV.

[240]

‘VERSE 489. Full in Achilles dreadful Front he came.]’ The great Judgment of the Poet in keeping the Character of his Hero is in this place very evident: When Achilles was to engage Aeneas he holds a long Conference with him, and with Patience bears the Reply of Aeneas: Had he purſu'd the ſame Method with Hector, he had departed from his Character. Anger is the prevailing Paſſion in Achilles: He left the Field in a Rage againſt Agamemnon, and enter'd it again to be reveng'd of Hector: The Poet therefore judiciouſly makes him take Fire at the ſight of his Enemy: He deſcribes him as impatient to kill him, he gives him a haughty Challenge, and that Challenge is comprehended in a ſingle Line: His Impatience to be reveng'd, would not ſuffer him to delay it by a Length of Words.

XXVI.

‘VERSE 513. But preſent to his Aid Apollo.]’ It is a common Obſervation that a God ſhould never be introduced into a Poem but where his Preſence is neceſſary. And it may be ask'd why the Life of Hector is of ſuch Importance that Apollo ſhould reſcue him from the Hand of Achilles here, and yet ſuffer him to fall ſo ſoon after? Euſtathius anſwers, that the Poet had not yet ſufficiently exalted the Valour of Achilles, he takes time to enlarge upon his Atchievements, and riſes by degrees in his Character, till he completes both his Courage and Reſentment at one Blow in the Death of Hector. And the Poet, adds he, pays a great Complement to his favourite Countryman, by ſhewing that nothing but the Intervention of a God could have ſav'd Aeneas and Hector from the Hand of Achilles.

XXVII.

VERSE 541.
—No Pray'r, no moving Art
E'er bent that fierce, inexorable Heart!]

I confeſs it is a Satisfaction to me, to obſerve with what Art the Poet purſues [241] his Subject: The opening of the Poem profeſſes to treat of the Anger of Achilles; that Anger draws on all the great Events of the Story: And Homer at every Opportunity awakens the Reader to an Attention to it, by mentioning the Effects of it: So that when we ſee in this place the Hero deaf to Youth, and Compaſſion, it is what we expect: Mercy in him would offend, becauſe it is contrary to his Character. Homer propoſes him not as a Pattern for Imitation; but the Moral of the Poem which he deſign'd the Reader ſhould draw from it, is, that we ſhould avoid Anger, ſince it is ever pernicious in the Event.

XXIX.

‘VERSE 580. The trampling Steers beat out the unnumber'd Grain.]’ In Greece, inſtead of threſhing the Corn as we do, they caus'd it to be trod out by Oxen; this was likewiſe practis'd in Judaea, as is ſeen by the Law of God, who forbad the Jews to muzzle the Ox who trod out the Corn, Non ligabis os bovis terentis in areâ fruges tuas. Deuteron. 25. Dacier.

The ſelf ſame Practice is ſtill preſerved among the Turks and modern Greeks.

XXX.

The Similes at the End.]’ It is uſual with our Author to heap his Similes very thick together at the Concluſion of a Book. He has done the ſame in the ſeventeenth: 'Tis the natural Diſcharge of a vaſt Imagination, heated in its Progreſs, and giving itſelf vent in this Crowd of Images.

I cannot cloſe the Notes upon this Book, without obſerving the dreadful Idea of Archilles, which the Poet leaves upon the Mind of the Reader. He drives his Chariot over Shields and mangled Heaps of Slain: The Wheels, the Axle-tree, and the Horſes are ſtain'd with Blood, the Hero's Eyes burn with Fury, and his Hands are red with Slaughter. A Painter might form from this Paſſage the Picture of Mars in the Fulneſs of his Terrors, as well as Phidias is ſaid to have drawn from another, that of Jupiter in all his Majeſty.

THE TWENTY-FIRST BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

[]

The ARGUMENT.
The Battel in the River Scamander.

[]

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

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

THE TWENTY-FIRST BOOK OF THE ILIAD.

[245]
AND now to Xanthus' gliding Stream they drove,
Xanthus, Immortal Progeny of Jove.
The River here divides the flying Train.
Part to the Town fly diverſe o'er the Plain,
Where late their Troops triumphant bore the Fight,
Now chac'd, and trembling in ignoble flight:
(Theſe with a gather'd Miſt Saturnia ſhrouds,
And rolls behind the Rout a Heap of Clouds)
Part plunge into the Stream: Old Xanthus roars,
The flaſhing Billows beat the whiten'd Shores:
[246] With Cries promiſcuous all the Banks reſound,
And here, and there, in Eddies whirling round,
The flouncing Steeds and ſhrieking Warriors drown'd
As the ſcorch'd Locuſts from their Fields retire,
While faſt behind them runs the Blaze of Fire;
Driv'n from the Land before the ſmoky Cloud,
The cluſt'ring Legions ruſh into the Flood:
So plung'd in Xanthus by Achilles' Force,
Roars the reſounding Surge with Men and Horſe.
His bloody Lance the Hero caſts aſide,
(Which ſpreading Tam'risks on the Margin hide)
Then like a God, the rapid Billows braves,
Arm'd with his Sword, high-brandiſh'd o'er the Waves;
Now down he plunges, now he whirls it round,
Deep groan the Waters with the dying Sound;
Repeated Wounds the red'ning River dy'd,
And the warm Purple circled on the Tyde.
Swift thro' the foamy Flood the Trojans fly,
And cloſe in Rocks or winding Caverns lye.
So the huge Dolphin tempeſting the Main,
In Shoals before him fly the ſcaly Train,
[247] Confus'dly heap'd, they ſeek their inmoſt Caves,
Or pant and heave beneath the floating Waves.
Now tir'd with Slaughter, from the Trojan Band
Twelve choſen Youths he drags alive to Land;
With their rich Belts their Captive Arms conſtrains,
(Late their proud Ornaments, but now their Chains.)
Theſe his Attendants to the Ships convey'd,
Sad Victims! deſtin'd to Patroclus' Shade.
Then, as once more he plung'd amid the Flood,
The young Lycaon in his Paſſage ſtood;
The Son of Priam, whom the Hero's Hand
But late made captive in his Father's Land,
(As on a Fig-tree Top, his ſounding Steel
Lopp'd the green Arms to ſpoke a Chariot Wheel)
To Lemnos' Iſle he ſold the Royal Slave,
Where Jaſon's Son the Price demanded gave;
But kind Eëtion touching on the Shore,
The ranſom'd Prince to fair Arisbe bore.
Ten Days were paſt, ſince in his Father's Reign
He felt the Sweets of Liberty again;
The next, that God whom Men in vain withſtand,
Gives the ſame Youth to the ſame conqu'ring Hand;
[248] Now never to return! and doom'd to go
A ſadder Journey to the Shades below.
His well-known Face when great Achilles ey'd,
(The Helm and Vizor he had caſt aſide
With wild Affright, and dropt upon the Field
His uſeleſs Lance and unavailing Shield.)
As trembling, panting, from the Stream he fled,
And knock'd his fault'ring Knees, the Hero ſaid.
Ye mighty Gods! what Wonders ſtrike my View:
Is it in vain our conqu'ring Arms ſubdue?
Sure I ſhall ſee yon' Heaps of Trojans kill'd
Riſe from the Shades, and brave me on the Field:
As now the Captive, whom ſo late I bound
And ſold to Lemnos, ſtalks on Trojan Ground!
Not him the Seas unmeaſur'd Deeps detain,
That barr ſuch numbers from their native Plain:
Lo! he returns! Try then, my flying ſpear!
Try, if the Grave can hold the Wanderer;
If Earth at length this active Prince can ſeize,
Earth, whoſe ſtrong Graſp has held down Hercules.
Thus while he ſpake, the Trojan pale with Fears
Approach'd, and ſought his Knees with ſuppliant Tears;
[249] Loth as he was to yield his youthful Breath,
And his Soul ſhiv'ring at th' Approach of Death.
Achilles rais'd the Spear, prepar'd to wound;
He kiſs'd his Feet, extended on the Ground:
And while above the Spear ſuſpended ſtood,
Longing to dip its thriſty Point in Blood;
One Hand embrac'd them cloſe, one ſtopt the Dart;
While thus theſe melting Words attempt his Heart.
Thy well-known Captive, great Achilles! ſee,
Once more Lycaon trembling at thy Knee;
Some Pity to a Suppliant's Name afford,
Who ſhar'd the Gifts of Ceres at thy Board,
Whom late thy conqu'ring Arm to Lemnos bore,
Far from his Father, Friends, and native Shore;
A hundred Oxen were his Price that Day,
Now Sums immenſe thy Mercy ſhall repay.
Scarce reſpited from Woes I yet appear,
And ſcarce twelve morning Suns have ſeen me here;
Lo! Jove again ſubmits me to thy Hands,
Again, her Victim cruel Fate demands!
I ſprung from Priam, and Laothoe fair,
(Old Alte's Daughter, and Lelegia's Heir;
[250] Who held in Pedaſus his fam'd Abode,
And rul'd the Fields where ſilver Satnio flow'd)
Two Sons (alas, unhappy Sons) ſhe bore,
For ah! one Spear ſhall drink each Brother's Gore,
And I ſucceed to ſlaughter'd Polydore.
How from that Arm of Terror ſhall I fly?
Some Daemon urges! 'tis my Doom to die!
If ever yet ſoft Pity touch'd thy mind,
Ah! think not me too much of Hector's Kind:
Not the ſame Mother gave thy Suppliant Breath,
With his, who wrought thy lov'd Patroclus' Death.
Theſe Words, attended with a Show'r of Tears,
The Youth addreſt to unrelenting Ears:
Talk not of Life, or Ranſom, (he replies)
Patroclus dead, whoever meets me, dies:
In vain a ſingle Trojan ſues for Grace;
But leaſt, the Sons of Priam's hateful Race.
Die then, my Friend! what boots it to deplore?
The great, the good Patroclus is no more!
He, far thy Better, was fore-doom'd to die,
"And thou, doſt thou, bewail Mortality?
[251] See'ſt thou not me, whom Nature's Gifts adorn,
Sprung from a Hero, from a Goddeſs born;
The Day ſhall come (which nothing can avert)
When by the Spear, the Arrow, or the Dart,
By Night, or Day, by Force or by Deſign,
Impending Death and certain Fate are mine.
Die then—He ſaid; and as the Word he ſpoke
The fainting Stripling ſunk, before the Stroke;
His Hand forgot its Graſp, and left the Spear;
While all his trembling Frame confeſt his Fear.
Sudden, Achilles his broad Sword diſplay'd,
And buried in his Neck the reeking Blade.
Prone fell the Youth; and panting on the Land,
The guſhing Purple dy'd the thirſty Sand:
The Victor to the Stream the Carcaſs gave,
And thus inſults him, floating on the Wave
Lie, there, Lycaon! let the Fiſh ſurround
Thy bloated Corſe, and ſuck thy goary Wound:
There no ſad Mother ſhall thy Fun'rals weep,
But ſwift Scamander roll thee to the Deep,
Whoſe ev'ry Wave ſome wat'ry Monſter brings,
To feaſt unpuniſh'd on the Fat of Kings.
[252] So periſh Troy, and all the Trojan Line!
Such Ruin theirs, and ſuch Compaſſion mine.
What boots ye now Scamander's worſhip'd Stream,
His earthly Honours, and immortal Name;
In vain your immolated Bulls are ſlain,
Your living Courſers glut his Gulphs in vain:
Thus he rewards you, with this bitter Fate;
Thus, till the Grecian Vengeance is compleat;
Thus is aton'd Patroclus honour'd Shade,
And the ſhort Abſence of Achilles paid.
Theſe boaſtful Words provoke the raging God;
With Fury ſwells the violated Flood.
What Means divine may yet the Pow'r employ,
To check Achilles, and to reſcue Troy?
Meanwhile the Hero ſprings in Arms, to dare
The great Aſteropeus to mortal War;
The Son of Pelagon, whoſe lofty Line
Flows from the Source of Axius, Stream divine!
(Fair Peribaea's Love the God had crown'd,
With all his refluent Waters circled round)
On him Achilles ruſh'd: He fearleſs ſtood,
And ſhook two Spears, advancing from the Flood;
[253] The Flood impell'd him, on Pelides' Head
T'avenge his Waters choak'd with Heaps of Dead.
Near as they drew, Achilles thus began.
What art thou, boldeſt of the Race of Man?
Who, or from whence? Unhappy is the Sire,
Whoſe Son encounters our reſiſtleſs Ire.
O Son of Peleus! what avails to trace
(Reply'd the Warrior) our illuſtrious Race?
From rich Paeonia's Vallies I command
Arm'd with protended Spears, my native Band;
Now ſhines the tenth bright Morning ſince I came
In aid of Ilion to the Fields of Fame:
Axius, who ſwells with all the neighb'ring Rills,
And wide around the floated Region fills,
Begot my Sire, whoſe Spear ſuch Glory won:
Now lift thy Arm, and try that Hero's Son!
Threat'ning he ſaid: The hoſtile Chiefs advance;
At once Aſteropeus diſcharg'd each Lance,
(For both his dext'rous Hands the Lance cou'd wield)
One ſtruck, but pierc'd not the Vulcanian Shield;
One raz'd Achilles Hand; the ſpouting Blood
Spun forth, in Earth the faſten'd Weapon ſtood.
[254] Like Lightning next the Pelian Jav'lin flies;
Its erring Fury hiſs'd along the Skies;
Deep in the ſwelling Bank was driv'n the Spear,
Ev'n to the middle earth'd; and quiver'd there.
Then from his ſide the Sword Pelides drew,
And on his Foe with doubled Fury flew.
The Foe thrice tugg'd, and ſhook the rooted Wood;
Repulſive of his Might the Weapon ſtood:
The fourth, he tries to break the Spear in vain;
Bent as he ſtands, he tumbles to the Plain;
His Belly open'd with a ghaſtly Wound,
The reeking Entrails pour upon the Ground.
Beneath the Hero's Feet he panting lies,
And his Eye darkens, and his Spirit flies:
While the proud Victor thus triumphing ſaid,
His radiant Armour tearing from the Dead:
So ends thy Glory! Such the Fate they prove
Who ſtrive preſumptuous with the Sons of Jove.
Sprung from a River didſt thou boaſt thy Line,
But great Saturnius is the Source of mine.
How durſt thou vaunt thy wat'ry Progeny?
Of Peleus, Aeacus, and Jove, am I;
[255] The Race of theſe ſuperior far to thoſe,
As he that thunders to the Stream that flows.
What Rivers can, Scamander might have ſhown;
But Jove he dreads, nor wars againſt his Son.
Ev'n Achelöus might contend in vain,
And all the roaring Billows of the Main.
Th'Eternal Ocean, from whoſe Fountains flow
The Seas, the Rivers, and the Springs below,
The thund'ring Voice of Jove abhors to hear,
And in his deep Abyſſes ſhakes with Fear.
He ſaid; then from the Bank his Jav'lin tore,
And left the breathleſs Warrior in his Gore.
The floating Tydes the bloody Carcaſs lave,
And beat againſt it, Wave ſucceeding Wave;
Till roll'd between the Banks, it lies the Food
Of curling Eels, and Fiſhes of the Flood.
All ſcatter'd round the Stream (their Mightieſt ſlain)
Th'amaz'd Paeonians ſcour along the Plain:
He vents his Fury on the flying Crew,
Thraſius, Aſtypylus, and Mneſus ſlew;
Mydon, Therſilochus, with Aenius fell;
And Numbers more his Lance had plung'd to Hell;
[256] But from the Bottom of his Gulphs profound,
Scamander ſpoke; the Shores return'd the Sound.
O firſt of Mortals! (for the Gods are thine)
In Valour matchleſs, and in Force divine!
If Jove have giv'n thee every Trojan Head,
'Tis not on me thy Rage ſhould heap the Dead.
See! my choak'd Streams no more their Courſe can keep,
Nor roll their wonted Tribute to the Deep.
Turn then, Impetuous! from our injur'd Flood;
Content, thy Slaughters could amaze a God.
In human Form confeſs'd before his Eyes
The River thus; and thus the Chief replies.
O ſacred Stream! thy Word we ſhall obey;
But not till Troy the deſtin'd Vengeance pay,
Not till within her Tow'rs the perjur'd Train
Shall pant, and tremble at our Arms again;
Not till proud Hector, Guardian of her Wall,
Or ſtain this Lance, or ſee Achilles fall.
He ſaid; and drove with Fury on the Foe.
Then to the Godhead of the ſilver Bow
The yellow Flood began: O Son of Jove!
Was not the Mandate of the Sire above
[257] Full and expreſs? that Phoebus ſhould employ
His ſacred Arrows in defence of Troy,
And make her conquer, till Hyperion's Fall
In awful Darkneſs hide the Face of all?
He ſpoke in vain—The Chief without Diſmay
Ploughs thro' the boiling Surge his deſp'rate Way.
Then riſing in his Rage above the Shores,
From all his Deeps the bellowing River roars,
Huge Heaps of Slain diſgorges on the Coaſt,
And round the Banks the ghaſtly Dead are toſt.
While all before, the Billows rang'd on high
(A wat'ry Bulwark) ſcreen the Bands who fly.
Now burſting on his Head with thund'ring Sound,
The falling Deluge whelms the Hero round:
His loaded Shield bends to the ruſhing Tide;
His Feet, upborn, ſcarce the ſtrong Flood divide,
Slidd'ring, and ſtagg'ring. On the Border ſtood
A ſpreading Elm, that overhung the Flood;
He ſeiz'd a bending Bough, his Steps to ſtay;
The Plant uprooted to his Weight gave way,
Heaving the Bank, and undermining all;
Loud flaſh the Waters to the ruſhing Fall
[258] Of the thick Foliage. The large Trunk display'd
Bridg'd the rough Flood acroſs: The Hero ſtay'd
On this his Weight, and rais'd upon his Hand,
Leap'd from the Chanel, and regain'd the Land.
Then blacken'd the wild Waves; the Murmur roſe;
The God purſues, a huger Billow throws,
And burſts the Bank, ambitious to deſtroy
The Man whoſe Fury is the Fate of Troy.
He, like the warlike Eagle ſpeeds his Pace,
(Swifteſt and ſtrongeſt of th'aerial Race)
Far as a Spear can fly, Achilles ſprings
At every Bound; His clanging Armour rings:
Now here, now there, he turns on ev'ry ſide,
And winds his Courſe before the following Tide;
The Waves flow after, whereſoe'er he wheels,
And gather faſt, and murmur at his Heels.
So when a Peaſant to his Garden brings
Soft Rills of Water from the bubbling Springs,
And calls the Floods from high, to bleſs his Bow'rs
And feed with pregnant Streams the Plants and Flow'rs;
Soon as he clears whate'er their paſſage ſtaid,
And marks their future Current with his Spade,
[259] Swift o'er the rolling Pebbles, down the Hills
Louder and louder purl the falling Rills,
Before him ſcatt'ring, they prevent his pains,
And ſhine in mazy Wand'rings o'er the Plains.
Still flies Achilles, but before his eyes
Still ſwift Scamander rolls where'er he flies:
Not all his Speed eſcapes the rapid Floods;
The firſt of Men, but not a Match for Gods.
Oft' as he turn'd the Torrent to oppoſe,
And bravely try if all the Pow'rs were Foes;
So oft' the Surge, in wat'ry Mountains ſpread,
Beats on his Back, or burſts upon his Head.
Yet dauntleſs ſtill the adverſe Flood he braves,
And ſtill indignant bounds above the Waves.
Tir'd by the Tides, his Knees relax with Toil;
Waſh'd from beneath him, ſlides the ſlimy Soil;
When thus (his Eyes on Heav'ns Expanſion thrown)
Forth burſts the Hero with an angry Groan.
Is there no God Achilles to befriend,
No Pow'r t'avert his miſerable End?
Prevent, oh Jove! this ignominious Date,
And make my future Life the Sport of Fate.
[260] Of all Heav'ns Oracles believ'd in vain,
But moſt of Thetis, muſt her Son complain;
By Phoebus' Darts ſhe propheſy'd my Fall,
In glorious Arms before the Trojan Wall.
Oh! had I dy'd in Fields of Battel warm,
Stretch'd like a Hero, by a Hero's Arm!
Might Hector's Spear this dauntleſs Boſom rend,
And my ſwift Soul o'ertake my ſlaughter'd Friend!
Ah no! Achilles meets a ſhameful Fate,
Oh how unworthy of the Brave and Great!
Like ſome vile Swain, whom, on a rainy Day,
Croſſing a Ford, the Torrent ſweeps away,
An unregarded Carcaſe to the Sea.
Neptune and Pallas haſte to his Relief,
And thus in human Form addreſs the Chief:
The Pow'r of Ocean firſt. Forbear thy Fear,
O Son of Peleus! Lo thy Gods appear!
Behold! from Jove deſcending to thy Aid,
Propitious Neptune, and the blue-ey'd Maid.
Stay, and the furious Flood ſhall ceaſe to rave;
Tis not thy Fate to glut his angry Wave.
[261] But thou, the Counſel Heav'n ſuggeſts, attend!
Nor breathe from Combate, nor thy Sword ſuſpend,
Till Troy receive her flying Sons, till all
Her routed Squadrons pant behind their Wall:
Hector alone ſhall ſtand his fatal Chance,
And Hector's Blood ſhall ſmoke upon thy Lance.
Thine is the Glory doom'd. Thus ſpake the Gods;
Then ſwift aſcended to the bright Abodes.
Stung with new Ardor, thus by Heav'n impell'd,
He ſprings impetuous, and invades the Field:
O'er all th'expanded Plain the Waters ſpread;
Heav'd on the bounding Billows, danc'd the Dead,
Floating midſt ſcatter'd Arms; while Caſques of Gold
And turn'd up Bucklers glitter'd as they roll'd.
High o'er the ſurging Tide, by Leaps and Bounds,
He wades, and mounts; the parted Wave reſounds.
Not a whole River ſtops the Hero's Courſe,
While Pallas fills him with immortal Force.
With equal Rage, indignant Xanthus roars,
And lifts his Billows, and o'erwhelms his Shores.
Then thus to Simois: Haſte, my Brother Flood!
And check this Mortal that controuls a God:
[262] Our braveſt Heroes elſe ſhall quit the Fight,
And Ilion tumble from her tow'ry Height.
Call then thy ſubject Streams, and bid them roar,
From all thy Fountains ſwell thy wat'ry Store,
With broken Rocks, and with a Load of Dead,
Charge the black Surge, and pour it on his Head.
Mark how reſiſtleſs thro' the Floods he goes,
And boldly bids the warring Gods be Foes!
But nor that Force, nor Form divine to Sight
Shall ought avail him, if our Rage unite:
Whelm'd under our dark Gulphs thoſe Arms ſhall lie
That blaze ſo dreadful in each Trojan Eye;
And deep beneath a ſandy Mountain hurl'd
Immers'd remain this Terror of the World.
Such pond'rous Ruin ſhall confound the Place,
No Greek ſhall e'er his periſh'd Relicks grace,
No Hand his Bones ſhall gather, or inhume;
Theſe his cold Rites, and this his wat'ry Tomb.
He ſaid; and on the Chief deſcends amain,
Increas'd with Gore, and ſwelling with the Slain.
Then murm'ring from his Beds, he boils, he raves,
And a Foam whitens on the purple Waves.
[263] At ev'ry Step, before Achilles ſtood
The crimſon Surge, and delug'd him with Blood.
Fear touch'd the Queen of Heav'n: She ſaw diſmay'd,
She call'd aloud, and ſummon'd Vulcan's Aid.
Riſe to the War! th'inſulting Flood requires
Thy waſteful Arm: Aſſemble all thy Fires!
While to their aid, by our Command enjoin'd,
Ruſh the ſwift Eaſtern and the Weſtern Wind:
Theſe from old Ocean at my Word ſhall blow,
Pour the red Torrent on the wat'ry Foe,
Corſes and Arms to one bright Ruin turn,
And hiſſing Rivers to their bottoms burn.
Go, mighty in thy Rage! diſplay thy Pow'r,
Drink the whole Flood, the crackling Trees devour,
Scorch all the Banks! and (till our Voice reclaim)
Exert th'unweary'd Furies of the Flame!
The Pow'r Ignipotent her Word obeys:
Wide o'er the Plain he pours the boundleſs Blaze;
At once conſumes the Dead, and dries the Soil;
And the ſhrunk Waters in their Chanel boil:
As when Autumnal Boreas ſweeps the Sky,
And inſtant, blows the water'd Garden dry:
[264] So look'd the Field, ſo whiten'd was the Ground,
While Vulcan breath'd the fiery Blaſt around.
Swift on the ſedgy Reeds the Ruin preys;
Along the Margin winds the running Blaze:
The Trees in flaming rows to Aſhes turn,
The flow'ry Lotos, and the Tam'risk burn,
Broad Elm, and Cypreſs riſing in a Spire;
The wat'ry Willows hiſs before the Fire.
Now glow the Waves, the Fiſhes pant for Breath,
The Eels lie twiſting in the Pangs of Death:
Now flounce aloft, now dive the ſcaly Fry,
Or gaſping, turn their Bellies to the Sky.
At length the River rear'd his languid Head,
And thus ſhort-panting, to the God he ſaid.
O Vulcan, oh! what Pow'r reſiſts thy Might?
I faint, I ſink, unequal to the Fight—
I yield—Let Ilion fall; if Fate decree—
Ah—bend no more thy fiery Arms on me!
He ceas'd; wide Conflagration blazing round;
The bubbling Waters yield a hiſſing Sound.
As when the Flames beneath a Caldron riſe,
To melt the Fat of ſome rich Sacrifice,
[265] Amid the fierce Embrace of circling Fires
The Waters foam, the heavy Smoak aſpires:
So boils th' impriſon'd Flood, forbid to flow,
And choak'd with Vapours, feels his Bottom glow.
To Juno then, Imperial Queen of Air,
The burning River ſends his earneſt Pray'r.
Ah why, Saturnia! muſt thy Son engage
Me, only me, with all his waſtfull Rage?
On other Gods his dreadful Arm employ,
For mightier Gods aſſert the Cauſe of Troy.
Submiſſive I deſiſt, if thou command,
But ah! withdraw this all-deſtroying Hand.
Hear then my ſolemn Oath, to yield to Fate
Unaided Ilion, and her deſtin'd State,
Till Greece ſhall gird her with deſtructive Flame,
And in one Ruin ſink the Trojan Name.
His warm Intreaty touch'd Saturnia's Ear;
She bade th'Ignipotent his Rage forbear,
Recall the Flame, nor in a mortal cauſe
Infeſt a God: Th'obedient Flame withdraws:
Again, the branching Streams begin to ſpread,
And ſoft re-murmur in their wonted Bed.
[266]
While theſe by Juno's Will the Strife reſign,
The warring Gods in fierce Contention join:
Re-kindling Rage each heavenly Breaſt alarms;
With horrid Clangor ſhock th'aetherial Arms:
Heav'n in loud Thunder bids the Trumpet ſound;
And wide beneath them groans the rending Ground.
Jove, as his Sport, the dreadful Scene deſcries,
And views contending Gods with careleſs Eyes.
The Pow'r of Battels lifts his brazen Spear,
And firſt aſſaults the radiant Queen of War,
What mov'd thy Madneſs, thus to diſunite
Aethereal Minds, and mix all Heav'n in Fight?
What wonder this, when in thy frantick Mood
Thou drov'ſt a Mortal to inſult a God;
Thy impious Hand Tydides' Jav'lin bore,
And madly bath'd it in celeſtial Gore.
He ſpoke, and ſmote the loud-reſounding Shield,
Which bears Jove's Thunder on its dreadful Field;
The Adamantine Aegis of her Sire,
That turns the glancing Bolt, and forked Fire.
Then heav'd the Goddeſs in her mighty Hand
A Stone, the Limit of the neighb'ring Land,
[267] There fix'd from eldeſt times; black, craggy, vaſt:
This, at the heav'nly Homicide ſhe caſt.
Thund'ring he falls; a Maſs of monſtrous Size,
And ſev'n broad Acres covers as he lies.
The ſtunning Stroke his ſtubborn Nerves unbound;
Loud o'er the Fields his ringing Arms reſound:
The ſcornful Dame her Conqueſt views with Smiles,
And glorying thus, the proſtrate God reviles.
Haſt thou not yet, inſatiate Fury! known,
How far Minerva's Force tranſcends thy own?
Juno, whom thou rebellious dar'ſt withſtand,
Corrects thy Folly thus by Pallas' Hand;
Thus meets thy broken Faith with juſt Diſgrace,
And partial Aid to Troy's perfidious Race.
The Goddeſs ſpoke, and turn'd her Eyes away
That beaming round, diffus'd celeſtial Day.
Jove's Cyprian Daughter ſtooping on the Land,
Lent to the wounded God her tender Hand:
Slowly he riſes, ſcarcely breathes with Pain,
And propt on her fair Arm, forſakes the Plain.
This the bright Empreſs of the Heav'ns ſurvey'd,
And ſcoffing, thus, to War's victorious Maid.
[268]
Lo, what an Aid on Mars's Side is ſeen!
The Smiles and Love's unconquerable Queen!
Mark with what Inſolence, in open view,
She moves: Let Pallas, if ſhe dares, purſue.
Minerva ſmiling heard, the Pair o'ertook,
And ſlightly on her Breaſt the Wanton ſtrook:
She, unreſiſting, fell; (her Spirits fled)
On Earth together lay the Lovers ſpread!
And like theſe Hero's, be the Fate of all
(Minerva cries) who guard the Trojan Wall!
To Grecian Gods ſuch let the Phrygian be,
So dread, ſo fierce, as Venus is to me;
Then from the loweſt Stone ſhall Troy be mov'd—
Thus ſhe, and Juno with a Smile approv'd.
Meantime, to mix in more than mortal Fight,
The God of Ocean dares the God of Light.
What Sloath has ſeiz'd us, when the Fields around
Ring with conflicting Pow'rs, and Heav'n returns the Sound?
Shall ignominious We with ſhame retire,
No Deed perform'd, to our Olympian Sire?
Come, prove thy Arm! for firſt the War to wage,
Suits not my Greatneſs, or ſuperior Age.
[269] Raſh as thou art to prop the Trojan Throne,
(Forgetful of my Wrongs, and of thy own)
And guard the Race of proud Laomedon!
Haſt thou forgot, how at the Monarch's Pray'r,
We ſhar'd the lengthen'd Labours of a Year?
Troy Walls I rais'd (for ſuch were Jove's Commands)
And yon' proud Bulwarks grew beneath my Hands:
Thy Task it was, to feed the bellowing Droves
Along fair Ida's Vales, and pendent Groves.
But when the circling Seaſons in their Train
Brought back the grateful Day that crown'd our Pain;
With Menace ſtern the fraudful King defy'd
Our latent Godhead, and the Prize deny'd:
Mad as he was, he threaten'd ſervile Bands,
And doom'd us Exiles far in barb'rous Lands.
Incens'd, we heav'nward fled with ſwifteſt wing,
And deſtin'd Vengeance on the perjur'd King.
Doſt thou, for this, afford proud Ilion Grace,
And not like us, infeſt the faithleſs Race?
Like us, their preſent, future Sons deſtroy,
And from its deep Foundations heave their Troy?
[270]
Apollo thus: To combat for Mankind
Ill ſuits the Wiſdom of celeſtial Mind:
For what is Man? Calamitous by Birth,
They owe their Life and Nouriſhment to Earth;
Like yearly Leaves, that now, with Beauty crown'd,
Smile on the Sun; now, wither on the Ground:
To their own Hands commit the frantick Scene,
Nor mix Immortals in a Cauſe ſo mean.
Then turns his Face, far-beaming heav'nly Fires,
And from the Senior Pow'r, ſubmiſs retires;
Him, thus retreating, Artemis upbraids,
The quiver'd Huntreſs of the Sylvan Shades.
And is it thus the youthful Phoebus flies,
And yields to Ocean's hoary Sire, the Prize?
How vain that martial Pomp, and dreadful Show,
Of pointed Arrows, and the ſilver Bow!
Now boaſt no more in yon' celeſtial Bow'r,
Thy Force can match the great Earth-ſhaking Pow'r.
Silent, he heard the Queen of Woods upbraid:
Not ſo Saturnia bore the vaunting Maid;
But furious thus. What Inſolence has driv'n
Thy Pride to face the Majeſty of Heav'n?
[271] What tho' by Jove the female Plague deſign'd,
Fierce to the feeble Race of Womankind,
The wretched Matron feels thy piercing Dart;
Thy Sexe's Tyrant, with a Tyger's Heart?
What tho' tremendous in the woodland Chaſe,
Thy certain Arrows pierce the ſavage Race?
How dares thy Raſhneſs on the Pow'rs divine
Employ thoſe Arms, or match thy Force with mine?
Learn hence, no more unequal War to wage—
She ſaid, and ſeiz'd her Wriſts with eager Rage;
Theſe in her Left-Hand lock'd, her Right unty'd
The Bow, the Quiver, and its plumy Pride.
About her Temples flies the buſy Bow;
Now here, now there, ſhe winds her from the Blow;
The ſcatt'ring Arrows rattling from the Caſe,
Drop round, and idly mark the duſty Place.
Swift from the Field the baffled Huntreſs flies,
And ſcarce reſtrains the Torrent in her Eyes:
So, when the Falcon wings her way above,
To the cleft Cavern ſpeeds the gentle Dove,
(Not fated yet to die) There ſafe retreats,
Yet ſtill her Heart againſt the Marble beats.
[272]
To her, Latona haſts with tender Care;
Whom Hermes viewing, thus declines the War.
How ſhall I face the Dame, who gives Delight
To him whoſe Thunders blacken Heav'n with Night?
Go matchleſs Goddeſs! triumph in the Skies,
And boaſt my Conqueſt, while I yeild the Prize.
He ſpoke; and paſt: Latona, ſtooping low,
Collects the ſcatter'd Shafts, and fallen Bow,
That glitt'ring on the Duſt, lay here and there;
Diſhonour'd Relicks of Diana's War.
Then ſwift purſu'd her to the bleſt Abode,
Where, all confus'd, ſhe ſought the Sov'reign God;
Weeping ſhe graſp'd his Knees: Th' Ambroſial Veſt
Shook with her Sighs, and panted on her Breaſt.
The Sire, ſuperior ſmil'd; and bade her ſhow,
What heav'nly Hand had caus'd his Daughter's Woe?
Abaſh'd, ſhe names his own Imperial Spouſe;
And the pale Creſcent fades upon her Brows.
Thus they above: While ſwiftly gliding down,
Apollo enters Ilion's ſacred Town:
The Guardian God now trembled for her Wall,
And fear'd the Greeks, tho' Fate forbade her Fall.
[273] Back to Olympus, from the War's Alarms,
Return the ſhining Bands of Gods in Arms;
Some proud in Triumph, ſome with Rage on fire;
And take their Thrones around th'Aethereal Sire.
Thro' Blood, thro'Death, Achilles ſtill proceeds,
O'er ſlaughter'd Heroes, and o'er rolling Steeds.
As when avenging Flames with Fury driv'n,
On guilty Towns exert the Wrath of Heav'n;
The Pale Inhabitants, ſome fall, ſome fly;
And the red Vapours purple all the Sky.
So rag'd Achilles: Death, and dire Diſmay,
And Toils, and Terrors, fill'd the dreadful Day.
High on a Turret hoary Priam ſtands,
And marks the Waſte of his deſtructive Hands;
Views, from his Arm, the Trojans ſcatter'd Flight,
And the near Hero riſing on his Sight!
No Stop, no Check, no Aid! With feeble pace,
And ſettled Sorrow on his aged Face,
Faſt as he could, he ſighing quits the Walls;
And thus, deſcending, on the Guards he calls.
You to whoſe care our City Gates belong,
Set wide your Portals to the flying Throng.
[274] For lo! he comes, with unreſiſted Sway;
He comes, and Deſolation marks his way!
But when within the Walls our Troops take Breath,
Lock faſt the brazen Bars, and ſhut out Death.
Thus charg'd the rev'rend Monarch: Wide were flung
The opening Folds; the ſounding Hinges rung.
Phoebus ruſh'd forth, the flying Bands to meet,
Strook Slaughter back, and cover'd the Retreat.
On Heaps the Trojans crowd to gain the Gate,
And gladſome ſee their laſt Eſcape from Fate:
Thither, all parch'd with Thirſt, a heartleſs Train,
Hoary with Duſt, they beat the hollow Plain;
And gaſping, panting, fainting, labour on
With heavier Strides, that lengthen tow'rd the Town.
Enrag'd Achilles follows with his Spear;
Wild with Revenge, inſatiable of War.
Then had the Greeks Eternal Praiſe acquir'd,
And Troy inglorious to her Walls retir'd;
But
Apollo
he, the God who darts aethereal Flame,
Shot down to ſave her, and redeem her Fame.
To young Agenor Force divine he gave,
(Antenor's Offspring, haughty, bold and brave)
[275] In aid of him, beſide the Beech he ſate,
And wrapt in Clouds, reſtrain'd the Hand of Fate.
When now the gen'rous Youth Achilles ſpies,
Thick beats his Heart, the troubled Motions riſe,
(So, e're a Storm, the Waters heave and roll)
He ſtops, and queſtions thus his mighty Soul.
What, ſhall I fly this Terror of the Plain?
Like others fly, and be like others ſlain?
Vain hope! to ſhun him by the ſelf-ſame Road
Yon' Line of ſlaughter'd Trojans lately trod.
No: with the common Heap I ſcorn to fall—
What if they paſs'd me to the Trojan Wall,
While I decline to yonder Path, that leads
To Ida's Foreſts and ſurrounding Shades?
So may I reach, conceal'd, the cooling Flood,
From my tir'd Body waſh the Duſt and Blood,
As ſoon as Night her dusky Veil extends,
Return in ſafety to my Trojan Friends.
What if?—But wherefore all this vain Debate?
Stand I to doubt, within the reach of Fate?
Ev'n now perhaps, e'er yet I turn the Wall,
The fierce Achilles ſees me, and I fall:
[276] Such is his Swiftneſs, 'tis in vain to fly,
And ſuch his Valour, that who ſtands muſt die.
Howe'er, 'tis better, fighting for the State,
Here, and in publick view, to meet my Fate.
Yet ſure He too is mortal; He may feel
(Like all the Sons of Earth) the Force of Steel;
One only Soul informs that dreadful Frame;
And Jove's ſole Favour gives him all his Fame.
He ſaid, and ſtood; collected in his Might;
And all his beating Boſom claim'd the Fight.
So from ſome deep-grown Wood a Panther ſtarts,
Rouz'd from his Thicket by a Storm of Darts;
Untaught to fear or fly, he hears the Sounds
Of ſhouting Hunters, and of clam'rous Hounds,
Tho' ſtrook, tho' wounded, ſcarce perceives the Pain,
And the barb'd Jav'lin ſtings his Breaſt in vain:
On their whole War, untam'd the Savage flies;
And tears his Hunter, or beneath him dies.
Not leſs reſolv'd, Antenor's valiant Heir
Confronts Achilles, and awaits the War,
Diſdainful of Retreat: High-held before,
His Shield (a broad Circumference) he bore;
[277] Then graceful as he ſtood, in act to throw
The lifted Jav'lin, thus beſpoke the Foe.
How proud Achilles glories in his Fame!
And hopes this day to ſink the Trojan Name
Beneath her Ruins! Know, that Hope is vain;
A thouſand Woes, a thouſand Toils remain.
Parents and Children our juſt Arms employ,
And ſtrong, and many, are the Sons of Troy.
Great as thou art, ev'n thou may'ſt ſtain with Gore
Theſe Phrygian Fields, and preſs a foreign Shore.
He ſaid: With matchleſs Force the Jav'lin flung
Smote on his Knee; the hollow Cuiſhes rung
Beneath the pointed Steel; but ſafe from Harms
He ſtands impaſſive in th' Aethereal Arms.
Then fiercely ruſhing on the daring Foe,
His lifted Arm prepares the fatal Blow;
But jealous of his Fame, Apollo ſhrouds
The god-like Trojan in a Veil of Clouds;
Safe from Purſuit, and ſhut from mortal View,
Diſmiſs'd with Fame, the favour'd Youth withdrew.
Meanwhile the God, to cover their Eſcape,
Aſſumes Agenor's Habit, Voice, and Shape,
[278] Flies from the furious Chief in this Diſguiſe,
The furious Chief ſtill follows where he flies.
Now o'er the Fields they ſtretch with lengthen'd Strides,
Now urge the Courſe where ſwift Scamander glides:
The God now diſtant ſcarce a Stride before,
Tempts his Purſuit, and wheels about the Shore.
While all the flying Troops their Speed employ,
And pour on Heaps into the Walls of Troy.
No ſtop, no ſtay; no thought to ask, or tell,
Who ſcap'd by Flight, or who by Battel fell.
'Twas Tumult all, and Violence of Flight;
And ſudden Joy confus'd, and mix'd Affright:
Pale Troy againſt Achilles ſhuts her Gate;
And Nations breathe, deliver'd from their Fate.

OBSERVATIONS ON THE Twenty-Firſt Book.
[281]OBSERVATIONS ON THE TWENTY-FIRST BOOK.

[]

I.

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

How far all that appears wonderful or extravagant in this Epiſode, may be reconcil'd to Probability, Truth, and natural [282] Reaſon, will be conſider'd in a diſtinct Note on that Head: The Reader may find it on ℣. 447.

II.

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

III.

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

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

We may hence account for the innumerable Armies of theſe Locuſts, mention'd among the Plagues of Aegypt, without having recourſe to an immediate Creation, as ſome good Men have imagin'd, whereas the Miracle indeed conſiſts in the wonderful manner of bringing them upon the Aegyptians: I have often obſerv'd with Pleaſure the Similitude which many of Homer's Expreſſions bear with the holy Scriptures, and that the oldeſt Writer in the World except Moſes [283] often ſpeaks in the Idiom of Moſes: Thus as the Locuſts in Exodus are ſaid to be driven into the Seas, ſo in Homer they are forc'd into a River.

IV.

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

V.

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

VI.

‘VERSE 35. Twelve choſen Youths.]’ This piece of Cruelty in Achilles has appear'd ſhocking to many, and indeed is what I think can only be excus'd by conſidering the ferocious and vindictive Spirit of this Hero. 'Tis however certain that the [284] Cruelties exercis'd on Enemies in War were authoriz'd by the military Laws of thoſe Times; nay Religion itſelf became a Sanction to them. It is not only the fierce Achilles, but the pious and religious Aeneas, whoſe very Character is Virtue and Compaſſion, that reſerves ſeveral young unfortunate Captives taken in Battel, to ſacrifice them to the Manes of his favourite Hero. Aen. 10. ℣. 517.

—Sulmone creatos
Quattuor hic juvenes, totidem quos educat Ufens
Viventes rapit; inferias quos immolet umbris,
Captivoque rogi perfundat ſanguine flammas.

And Aen. 11. ℣. 81.

Vinxerat & poſt terga manus, quos mitteret umbris,
Inferias, caeſo ſparſuros ſanguine flammam.

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

[...]

VII.

‘VERSE 41. The young Lycaon, &c.]’ Homer has a wonderful Art and Judgment in contriving ſuch Incidents as ſet the characteriſtick Qualities of his Heroes in the higheſt point of Light. There is hardly any in the whole Iliad more proper to move Pity than this Circumſtance of Lycaon, or to raiſe Terror, than this View of Achilles. It is alſo the fineſt Picture of them both imaginable: We ſee the different Attitude of their Perſons, and the different Paſſions which appear'd in their Countenances: At firſt Achilles ſtands erect, with Surprize in his Looks, at the Sight of one whom he thought it impoſſible to find there; while Lycaon is in the Poſture of a Suppliant, with Looks that plead for Compaſſion; [285] with one Hand holding the Hero's Lance, and his Knee with theother: Afterwards, when at his Death he lets go the Spear and places himſelf on his Knees, with his Arms extended, to receive the mortal Wound; how lively and how ſtrongly is this painted? I believe every one perceives the Beauty of this Paſſage, and allows that Poetry (at leaſt in Homer) is truly a ſpeaking Picture.

VIII.

‘VERSE 84, &c. The Speeches of Lycaon and Achilles.]’ It is impoſſible for any thing to be better imagin'd than theſe two Speeches; that of Lycaon is moving and compaſſionate, that of Achilles haughty and dreadful; the one pleads with the utmoſt Tenderneſs, the other denies with the utmoſt Sternneſs: One would think it impoſſible to amaſs ſo many moving Arguments in ſo few Words as thoſe of Lycaon: He forgets no Circumſtance to ſoften his Enemy's Anger, he flatters the Memory of Patroclus, is afraid of being thought too nearly related to Hector, and would willingly put himſelf upon him as a Suppliant, and conſequently as an inviolable perſon: But Achilles is immoveable, his Reſentment makes him deaf to Entreaties, and it muſt be remember'd that Anger, not Mercy, is his Character.

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

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

IX.

VERSE 122.
The Day ſhall come—
When by the Spear, the Arrow, or the Dart.

This is not ſpoken at random, but with an Air of Superiority; [286] when Achilles ſays he ſhall fall by an Arrow, a Dart or a Spear, he inſinuates that no Man will have the Courage to approach him in a cloſe Fight, or engage him Hand to Hand. Euſtathius.

X.

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

XI.

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

XII.

‘VERSE 172. From rich Paeonia's—&c.]’ In the Catalogue Pyraechmes is ſaid to be Commander of the Paeonians, where they are deſcrib'd as Bow-Men; but here they are ſaid to be arm'd with Spears, and to have Aſteropaens for their General. [287] Euſtathius tells us, ſome Criticks aſſerted that this Line in the Cat. ℣. 355.

[...]

followed

[...]

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

XIII.

VERSE 189.
Deep in the ſwelling Bank was driv'n the Spear,
Ev'n to the middle earth'd—]

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

XIV.

‘VERSE 264. Now burſting on his Head, &c.]’ There is a great Beauty in the Verſification of this whole Paſſage in Homer: Some of the Verſes run hoarſe, full, and ſonorous, like the Torrent they deſcribe; others by their broken Cadences, and ſudden Stops, image the Difficulty, Labour, and Interruption of the Hero's March againſt it. The fall of the Elm, the tearing up of the Bank, the ruſhing of the Branches in the Water, are all put into ſuch Words, that almoſt [288] every Letter correſponds in its Sound, and echoes to the Senſe of each particular.

XV.

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

XVI.

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

XVII.

‘VERSE 290. As when a Peaſant to his Garden brings, &c.]’ This changing of the Character is very beautiful: No Poet [289] ever knew, like Homer, to paſs from the vehement and the nervous, to the gentle and the agreeable; ſuch Tranſitions, when properly made, give a ſingular Pleaſure, as when in Muſick a Maſter paſſes from the rough to the tender. Demetrius Phalereus, who only praiſes this Compariſon for its Clearneſs, has not ſufficiently recommended its Beauty and Value. Virgil has transfer'd it into his firſt Book of the Georgicks. ℣. 106.

Deinde ſatis fluvium inducit, rivoſque ſequentes:
Et cùm exuſtus ager morientibus aeſtuat herbis,
Ecce ſupercilio clivoſi tramitis undam
Elicit: Illa cadens raucum per levia murmur
Saxa ciet, ſcatebriſ (que) arentia temperat arva.

Dacier.

XVIII.

‘VERSE 322. Oh had I dy'd in Fields of Battel warm! &c.]’ Nothing is more agreeable than this Wiſh to the heroick Character of Achilles: Glory is his prevailing Paſſion; he grieves not that he muſt die, but that he ſhould die unlike a Man of Honour. Virgil has made uſe of the ſame Thought in the ſame Circumſtance, where Aeneas is in danger of being drowned, Aen. 1. ℣. 98.

—O ter (que) quaterque beati,
Queis ante ora patrum Trojae ſub moenibus altis
Contigit oppetere! O Danaûm fortiſſime gentis
Tydide, mene Iliacis occumbere campis
Non potuiſſe? tuâque animam hanc effundere dextrâ!

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

[290]
—Licet ingentes abruperit actus
Feſtinata dies fatis, ſat magna peregi.
Arctoas domui gentes: inimica ſubegi
Arma manu: vidit Magnum mihi Roma ſecundum.

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

—Lacerum retinete cadaver
Fluctibus in mediis; deſint mihi buſta, roguſque,
Dum metuar ſemper, terrâque expecter ab omni.

XIX.

‘VERSE 406. While Vulcan breath'd the fiery Blast around.]’ It is in the Original, ℣. 355.

[...]

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

XX.

‘VERSE 425. As when the Flames beneath a Caldron riſe.]’ It is impoſſible to render literally ſuch Paſſages with any tolerable Beauty. Theſe Ideas can never be made to ſhine in [291] Engliſh, ſome Particularities cannot be preſerv'd; but the Greek Language gives them Luſtre, the Words are noble and muſical,

[...]
[...]
[...]

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

XXI.

‘VERSE 447. And ſoft re-murmur in their native bed.]’ Here ends the Epiſode of the River-Fight; and I muſt here lay before the Reader my Thoughts upon the whole of it: Which appears to be in part an Allegory, and in part a true Hiſtory. Nothing can give a better Idea of Homer's manner of enlivening his inanimate Machines, and of making the plaineſt and ſimpleſt Incidents noble and poetical, than to conſider the whole Paſſage in the common hiſtorical Senſe, which I ſuppoſe to be no more than this. There happen'd a great Overflow of the River Xanthus during the Seige, which very much incommoded the Aſſailants: This gave occaſion for the Fiction of an Engagement between Achilles and the River-God: Xanthus calling Simois to aſſiſt him, implies that theſe two neighbouring Rivers join'd in the Inundation: Pallas and Neptune relieve Achilles; that is, Pallas, or the Wiſdom of Achilles, found ſome means to divert the Waters, and turn them into the Sea; wherefore Neptune, the God of it, is feign'd to aſſiſt him. Jupiter and Juno (by which are underſtood the aerial Regions) conſent to aid Achilles; this may ſignify, that after this great Flood their happen'd a warm, dry, windy Seaſon, which aſſwaged the Waters, and dried the Ground: And what makes this in a manner plain, is, that Juno (which ſignifies the Air) promiſes to ſend the [292] North and Weſt Winds to diſtreſs the River. Xanthus being conſum'd by Vulcan, that is dried up with Heat, prays to Juno to relieve him: What is this, but that the Drought having almoſt drunk up his Streams, he has recourſe to the Air for Rains to reſupply his Current? Or perhaps the whole may ſignify no more, than that Achilles being on the farther ſide of the River, plung'd himſelf in to purſue the Enemy; that in this Adventure he run the risk of being drown'd; that to ſave himſelf he laid hold on a fallen Tree, which ſerv'd to keep him afloat; that he was ſtill carried down the Stream to the Place where was the Confluence of the two Rivers, which is expreſs'd by the one calling the other to his Aid; and that when he came nearer the Sea [Neptune] he found means by his Prudence (Pallas) to ſave himſelf from his Danger.

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

XXII.

VERSE 455.
Jove as his Sport, the dreadful Scene deſcries,
And views contending Gods with careleſs Eyes.]

I was at a loſs for the reaſon why Jupiter is ſaid to ſmile at the Diſcord of the Gods, till I found it in Euſtathius; Jupiter, ſays he, who is the Lord of Nature, is well pleaſed with the War of the Gods, that is of Earth, Sea, and Air, &c. becauſe the Harmony of all Beings ariſes from that Diſcord: Thus Earth is oppoſite to Water, Air to Earth, and Water to them all; and yet from this Oppoſition ariſes that diſcordant Concord by which all Nature ſubſiſts. Thus Heat and Cold, moiſt and dry, are in a continual War, yet upon this depends the Fertility of the Earth, and the Beauty [293] of the Creation. So that Jupiter who according to the Greeks is the Soul of all, may well be ſaid to ſmile at this Contention.

XXIII.

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

XXIV.

VERSE 469.
Then heav'd the Goddeſs in her mighty Hand
A Stone, &c.]

The Poet has deſcrib'd many of his Heroes in former parts of his Poem, as throwing Stones of enormous Bulk and Weight; but here he riſes in his Image: He is deſcribing a Goddeſs, and has found a way to make that Action excel all human Strength, and be equal to a Deity.

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

[294]
—Saxum circumſpicit ingens,
Saxum, antiquum, ingens, campo quod forte jacebat,
Limes agro poſitus, litem ut diſcerneret arvis.

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

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

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

XXV.

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

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

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

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

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

XXVI.

‘VERSE 537. For what is Man? &c.]’ The Poet is very happy in interſperſing his Poem with moral Sentences; in this place he ſteals away his Reader from War and Horror, and gives him a beautiful Admonition of his own Frailty. ‘"Shall I (ſays Apollo) contend with thee for the ſake of Man? [296] Man, who is no more than a Leaf of a Tree, now green and flouriſhing, but ſoon wither'd away and gone?"’ The Son of Sirach has an Expreſſion which very much reſembles this, Eccluſ. xiv. 18. As the green Leaves upon a thick Tree ſome fall, and ſome grow, ſo is the Generation of Fleſh and Blood, one cometh to an end, and one is born.

XXVII.

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

XXVIII.

VERSE 557.
The female Plague—
Fierce to the feeble Race of Womankind, &c.]

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

XXIX.

‘VERSE 580. Whom Hermes viewing, thus declines the War.]’ It is impoſſible that Mercury ſhould encounter Latona: Such a Fiction would be unnatural, he being a Planet, and ſhe repreſenting the Night; for the Planets owe all their Luſtre to [297] the Shades of the Night, and then only become viſible to the World. Euſtathius.

XXX.

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

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

XXXI.

VERSE 608.
As when avenging Flames with Fury driv'n,
On guilty Towns exert the Wrath of Heaven.]

This Paſſage may be explain'd two ways, each very remarkable. Firſt, by taking this Fire for a real Fire, ſent from Heaven to puniſh a criminal City, of which we have Example [298] in holy Writ. Hence we find that Homer had a Notion of this great Truth, that God ſometimes exerts his Judgments on whole Cities in this ſignal and terrible manner. Or if we take it in the other ſenſe, ſimply as a Fire thrown into a Town by the Enemies who aſſault it, (and only expreſs'd thus by the Author in the ſame manner as Jeremy makes the City of Jeruſalem ſay, when the Chaldaeans burnt the Temple, The Lord from above hath ſent Fire into my Bones. Lament. i. 13.) Yet ſtill thus much will appear underſtood by Homer, that the Fire which is caſt into a City comes not properly ſpeaking from Men, but from God who delivers it up to their Fury. Dacier.

XXXII.

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

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

XXXIII.

[299]

‘VERSE 652. What ſhall I fly? &c.]’ This is a very beautiful Soliloquy of Agenor, ſuch a one as would naturally ariſe in the Soul of a brave Man, going upon a deſperate Enterpriſe: He weighs every thing in the balance of Reaſon; he ſets before himſelf the Baſeneſs of Flight, and the Courage of his Enemy, till at laſt the thirſt of Glory preponderates all other Conſiderations. From the Concluſion of this Speech it is evident, that the Story of Achilles his being invulnerable except in the Heel, is an Invention of latter Ages; for had he been ſo, there had been nothing wonderful in his Character. Euſtathius.

XXXIV.

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

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

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

FINIS.
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