THE ODYSSEY OF HOMER.
POPE'S ODYSSEY
W Kent
P.Fourdrinier sculp
LONDON:
Printed for BERNARD LINTOT. MDCCXXV.
G. R.
DIEU ET MON DROIT
GEORGE
R.
G EORGE,
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
Bernard Lintot
of our City of
London,
Bookseller, hath by his Petition humbly represented unto Us, that he is now Printing a Translation, undertaken by Our Trusty and Well-beloved
Alexander Pope,
Esq
of the
Odyssey
of
Homer
from the
Greek,
in Five Volumes in
Folio
upon large and small Paper, in
Quarto
upon Royal Paper, in
Octavo
and
Duodecimo,
with large Notes upon each Book, and that he has been at great Expence in carrying on the said Work, and the sole Right and Title of the Copy of the same being vested in the said
Bernard Lintot,
he has 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 are therefore graciously pleased to gratify him in his Request, and do by these Presents, agreeable to the Statute in that behalf made and provided, for Us, Our Heirs and Successors, give and grant unto him the said
Bernard Lintot,
his Executors, Administrators and Assigns, Our Royal Privilege and Licence for the sole Printing and Publishing of the said Translation of the
Odyssey
of
Homer,
for and during the term of fourteen Years, to be computed from the Day of the Date hereof. Strictly forbidding and prohibiting all Our Subjects within Our Kingdoms of
Great Britain
and
Ireland,
and other our 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 or 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. Whereof the Master, Wardens, and Company of
Stationers
of Our City of
London,
the 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 Nineteenth Day of
February
1724/5. In the Eleventh Year of our Reign.
By His Majesty's Command,
TOWNSHEND.
THE NAMES OF THE SUBSCRIBERS.
THE KING.
The PRINCE.
The PRINCESS.
A.
DƲ KE of
Argyll,
Lord Steward of His Majesty's Houshold, for five Setts.
Duke of
Ancaster,
Great Chamberlain.
Duke of
St. Albans.
Duke of
Atholl.
Earl of
Anglesey.
Earl of
Abingdon,
for two Setts.
Earl of
Arran,
for five Setts.
Countess of
Arran.
Earl of
Aylsford.
Earl of
Albemarl.
Lord
Ashburnham,
for two Setts.
Lord
Aston.
John Aislabie,
Esq
for two Setts.
Honourable
Richard Arundel,
Esq
Arundel Beling,
Esq
Sir
John St. Aubin.
Gilbert Affleck,
Esq
Dr.
Audley,
LL. D. Chancellor of
York.
Sir
Robert Abdy.
Arthur Arscott,
Esq
Ralph Ashton,
Esq
Dr.
Arburthnot,
M. D.
Mr.
Robert Arburthnot.
Mr.
Robert Atkyns.
Mr.
William Aikman.
B.
DƲ KE of
Buckingham,
for five Setts.
Dutchess of
Buckingham,
for five Setts.
Duke of
Bridgewater.
Dutchess of
Buccleugh.
Duke of
Berwick,
Mareschal of
France.
Duke of
Bedford.
Earl of
Berkley.
Earl of
Bristol.
Countess of
Bristol.
Earl of
Burlington,
for five Setts.
Earl of
Burford.
Lord
Bolingbroke.
Lord
Brook.
Lord
Barnard.
Lady
Barnard.
Lord
Binning.
Lord
Bathurst,
for ten Setts.
Lord
Bingley,
for ten Setts.
Honourable
Martin Bladen,
Esq
for ten Setts.
Peter Bathurst,
Esq
for five Setts.
Benjamin Bathurst,
Esq
Honourable
George Berkley,
Esq
Right Hon.
William Bromley,
Esq
for two Setts.
Honourable
Robert Byng,
Esq
Sir
Walter Bagot.
Sir
George Beaumont.
Sir
Henry Bedingfeld.
Sir
Edmond Bacon,
Bart.
Sir
Roger Bradshaigh,
Bart.
Sir
Edmond Bacon.
John Berkley,
Esq
John Barnard,
Esq
Thomas Bootle,
Esq
Nicholas Bonnefoy,
Esq
Thomas Bacon,
Esq
John Byde,
Esq
Mrs.
Boteler
of
Bath.
William Bragge,
Esq
Mr.
Billers.
Mrs.
Beranger.
Edward Blount,
Esq
Mrs.
Martha Blount.
Hugh Bethel,
Esq
Mr. Alderman
Barber.
Alexander Broadie,
Esq
Samuel Barnardiston,
Esq
Reverend Dr.
Berkley,
Dean of
Londonderry.
Honourable
William Bentinck,
Esq
Harry Pope Blount,
Esq
Henry Barker,
Esq
Robert Bragg,
Esq
Samuel Buckley,
Esq
Reverend Dr.
Ralph Brydges.
Humphrey Brent,
Esq
Reverend Mr.
Barton.
Mrs.
Benson.
Mrs.
Judith Booth.
Mr.
Edward Bosworth
of St.
John
's
Cambridge.
Mr.
Charles Bridgman.
C.
LOrd
Carleton,
Lord President of the Council, for ten Setts.
Duke of
Chandos,
for ten Setts.
Lord
Carteret,
Lord Lieutenant of
Ireland,
for ten Setts.
Earl
Cowper,
late Lord Chancellor of
England.
Marquiss of
Carmarthen.
Earl of
Cardigan.
Lord Viscount
Cobham,
for five Setts.
Lord Viscount
Cheney.
Lord Viscount
Castlemain.
Lord
Clinton.
Lord
Carmichael.
Right Reverend
Francis
Lord Bishop of
Chester.
Lord
Craven.
Right Hon. Lady
Craven.
Lord
Clifford.
Lord
Cornwallis.
Right Honourable
Spencer Compton,
Speaker of the House of Commons, for ten Setts.
Earl
Cowper.
Countess
Cowper.
Right Honourable Lady
Sarah Cowper.
Spencer Cowper,
Esq
William Cowper,
Esq
Charles Caesar,
Esq
for two Setts.
* Mrs.
CAESAR.
Charles Caesar,
jun.
Esq
Lady
Anne Courtenay.
Sir
John Hynde Cotton.
Lady
Cotton.
Sir
Clement Cottrel,
Master of the Ceremonies.
Sir
John Curzon.
Anthony Collins,
Esq
George Clark,
Esq
Serjeant
John Comyns.
William Congreve,
Esq
Thomas Copplestone,
Esq
Thomas Clutterbuck,
Esq
Sir
William Codrington.
Thomas Coke of
Norfolk,
Esq
Sir
George Chudleigh.
Sir
Thomas Clarke.
John Campbell,
Esq
William Carr,
Esq
Anthony Cracherode,
Esq
Felix Calvert,
Esq
Sir
Thomas Cross.
Francis Childe,
Esq
John Codrington,
Esq
Thomas Chapman,
Esq
Reverend Mr.
Moses Cook.
Dr.
Chamberlain,
M. D.
Thomas Cartwright,
Esq
John Caryl,
Esq
Conrade de Gols,
Esq
Castleton,
Esq
Honourable Mr.
Collier.
Robert Chester
of
Bygrave,
Esq
John Chetwode,
Esq
Peter Calvert,
Esq
John Cooper,
Esq
Anthony Cornish,
Esq
Mrs.
Elizabeth Cornish.
George Cary,
of
Tor
-Abby,
Esq
Savile Cust,
Esq
Sir
Marmaduke Constable.
Constable,
Esq
For the Library of St.
John
's College,
Cambridge.
For the Library of
King
's College,
Cambridge.
For the Library of
Clare-Hall, Cambridge.
For the Library of
Trinity-Hall, Cambridge.
D.
DƲ ke of
Dorset,
for five Setts.
Duke of
Devonshire.
Earl of
Dartmouth.
Earl of
Deloraine.
Earl of
Derby.
Lord
Delawar.
Lord Viscount
Downes.
Earl of
Danby.
Lord
Ducy Moreton.
Countess of
Darlington.
Lord
Digby,
for two Setts.
Honourable
Robert Digby,
Esq
Honourable
Edward Digby,
Esq
Sir
John Dolben.
Honourable
Conyers Darcy,
Esq
Mountague Garrard Drake,
Esq
for two Setts.
Anthony Duncombe,
Esq
Robert Dormer,
Esq
Brigadier
James Dormer.
Henry D'avenant,
Esq
Colonel
Disney.
John Dennet,
Esq
Joseph Diston,
Esq
Richard Dalton,
Esq
Mr.
Dahl.
E.
HOnourable
Richard Edgcumbe,
Esq
for four Setts.
Sir
John Evelyn.
Sir
Harvey Elwes.
Sir
John Eyles.
Robert Elwes,
sen.
Esq
Robert Elwes,
jun.
Esq
Capt.
John Elwes.
Thomas Edwards,
Esq
Mrs.
Elliot.
Sir.
John Eden.
James Eckerfall,
Esq
F.
EArl of
Ferrers.
Lord
Foley,
for ten Setts.
Lord
Forester.
Lord
Finch.
Earl of
Findlater.
Lord Viscount
Falmouth.
Honourable
John Finch,
Esq
Bryan Fairfax,
Esq
Richard Foley,
Esq
Mr. Auditor
Foley.
Edward Foley,
Esq
Sir
Charles Firebrace.
William Frazer,
Esq
Sir
Robert Furnese.
Henry Furnese,
Esq
Ralph Freeman,
Esq
Dr.
John Friend,
M. D.
Reverend Dr.
Robert Friend,
first Master of
Westminster
School.
Nicholas Fazakerley,
Esq
Edmund Field,
Esq
Charles Ford,
Esq
George Fox,
Esq
Stephen Fox,
Esq
Sir
Nathaniel Floyde.
Mr.
Fenton.
William Fortescue,
Esq
Mrs.
Elizabeth Fortescue.
Mrs.
Mary Fortescue.
G.
DƲ ke of
Grafton,
Lord Chamberlain of His Majesty's Houshold. Five Setts.
Lord
Gower,
for five Setts.
Earl of
Godolphin.
Lady
Elizabeth Germain.
Countess of
Gainsborough.
Lady Viscountess
Gage.
Sir
Richard Grosvenor.
Sir
John Guise,
Bar.
Sir
Edward Gascoigne.
Francis Gwynne,
Esq
Dodington Grevil,
Esq
John Gay,
Esq
Patrick Garden,
Esq
Grant,
Esq
Richard Goulston,
Esq
Robert Gelsthrop,
Esq
Thomas Gape,
Esq
John Gumley,
Esq
William Gore,
Esq
John Goodall,
Esq
Reverend Mr.
Rob. Garwood.
William Grigg,
Esq
Stephen Gardiner,
Esq
Mr.
Sampson Gideon.
William Goostrey,
Esq
H.
LOrd Viscount
Harcourt,
for ten Setts.
Duke of
Hamilton.
Dutchess of
Hamilton.
Earl of
Huntingdon.
Earl of
Haddington.
Marquiss of
Hartington.
Marchioness of
Hartington.
Lord
Herbert.
Lord
Hervey.
Right Honourable Lady
Hervey.
Lord Viscount
Hilsborough.
Lady
Hinchingbroke.
Countess of
Holderness.
Right Hon. Lady
Margaret Harley.
Right Hon. Sir
Thomas Hanmer.
John Howe,
Esq
Honourable
Robert Herbert,
Esq
Honourable Mrs.
Howard.
Honourable Lady
Harper.
Right Hon. Lady
Mildred Hotham.
The Honourable Mrs.
Anne Hamilton.
The Honourable Mrs.
Sophia Hamilton.
Sir
John Hobart.
Honourable Mrs.
Howard,
Bed-chamber Woman to her Royal Highness, for two Setts.
Honourable Mrs.
Mary Howe,
for two Setts.
Mr. Auditor
Harley,
for two Setts.
Thomas Harley,
Esq
Henry Arthur Herbert,
Esq
Archibald Hutcheson,
Esq
Edward Hutcheson,
Esq
Brigadier
Honywood.
Robert Honywood,
Esq
Edward Hughes,
Esq
Judge Advocate.
Thomas Heskit,
Esq
Edward Harrison,
Esq
Mrs.
Harrison.
Hugh Howard,
Esq
Moses Hart,
Esq
William Heysham,
Esq
Nicholas Hall,
Esq
William Hale,
Esq
Jeremiah Hale,
Esq
Dr.
Hale,
M. D.
Lady
Hare.
Mrs.
Hewers.
Richard Harcourt,
Esq
Honourable
Simon Harcourt,
Esq
Philip Harcourt,
Esq
Reverend Dr.
Harris.
Dean
Harris.
Thomas Horner,
Esq
Harvey,
Esq
John Holt,
Esq
for two Setts.
Reverend Mr.
Hill,
for two Setts.
Samuel Hill,
Esq
John Hungerford,
Esq
Reverend Dr.
Hunt,
of
Baliol
College.
I.
EArl of
Ilay.
Right Honourable Sir
Joseph Jekyl,
Master of the Rolls.
Edward Jefferys,
Esq
Sir
Robert Jenkinson.
James Joy,
Esq
Soame Jenyns,
Esq
Mrs.
Ibbot.
Charles Jennings,
Esq
Charles Jervas,
Esq
Principal Painter to His Majesty, for two Setts.
K.
DƲ ke of
Kingston,
Lord Privy Seal, for two Setts.
Earl of
Kinnoul,
for five Setts.
Honourable Colonel
Piercy Kirk.
Sir
Arthur Kay.
Francis Keck,
Esq
Dr.
King,
L L. D.
John Knight,
Esq
Abel Kettelby,
Esq
Mr.
William Kent.
L.
EArl of
Lincoln.
Earl of
Litchfield.
Earl of
Limerick.
Lord Viscount
Lonsdale.
Lord
Lexington.
Lord
Lansdown.
Lord
Lynn.
Right Honourable Lady
Lynn.
Honourable Mrs.
Anne Lumley.
Sir
Wilfrid Lawson,
for two Setts.
Comte
Lippe.
Richard Lockwood,
Esq
William Levinz,
Esq
William Robinson Lytton,
Esq
Erasmus Lewis,
Esq
Charles Longueville,
Esq
Thomas Lutwyche,
Esq
Thomas Lyster,
Esq
Honourable
Anthony Lowther,
Esq
Sir
Thomas Lyttleton.
Penniston Lamb,
Esq
Mr.
Layng.
Mr.
Thomas Loveday.
Mrs.
Lawrence.
M.
HEnrietta,
Dutchess of
Marlborough,
for five Setts.
Sarah,
Dutchess of
Marlborough.
Duke of
Manchester.
Duke of
Montross.
Earl of
Montrath.
Lord
Masham.
Lady
Masham.
Lord
Milsingtoun,
for two Setts.
Lord
Mansell.
Lord
Morpeth.
Lord
Mordaunt.
Honourable
John Mordaunt.
Right Honourable
Paul Methuen,
Esq
Comptroller of the Houshold.
John Mordaunt,
Esq
Lady
Mohun.
Mrs.
Mellish.
William Morice,
Esq
Mrs.
Morice.
Edmund Morris,
Esq
John Morley,
of
Halsted
in
Essex.
Sir
William Milner.
Monckton,
Esq
Charles Mein,
Esq
Carew Mildmay,
Esq
Mrs.
Mary Molesworth.
James Moore,
Esq
Dr.
Mead,
M. D.
Samuel Mead,
Esq
Mr.
John Mead.
John Merril,
Esq
Samuel Molineux,
Esq
Captain
Madan.
Mrs.
Madan.
Mr.
Maubert.
Herbert Mackworth,
Esq
Thomas Masters,
Esq
Robert Middleton,
Esq
Thomas Milner,
Esq
N.
DƲ ke of
Norfolk,
Earl Marshal, and Hereditary Marshal of
England.
Duke of
Newcastle,
one of His Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State, for ten Setts.
Dutchess of
Northumberland.
Lord
North and Grey.
Mrs.
Newsham,
for ten Setts.
Edward Nicholas,
Esq
William Northey,
Esq
Reverend Mr.
John Nicolls,
second Master of
Westminster
School.
Richard Nash,
Esq
John Neale,
Esq
Captain
George Newton.
O.
RObert
Earl of
Oxford
and Earl
Mortimer.
Edward
Earl of
Oxford
and Earl
Mortimer,
for ten Setts.
Countess of
Oxford,
for five Setts.
Earl of
Orkney.
Earl of
Orrery.
Lord
Onslow.
Colonel
Otway.
Samuel Ongley,
Esq
Mr.
Thomas Oyles.
The Ʋ niversity of
OXFORD.
The Right Honourable the Earl of
Arran,
Chancellor of the Ʋ niversity of
Oxford.
The Reverend Dr.
Mather,
Vice-Chancellor.
For the Library of
Christ-Church.
For the Library of
All-Soul
's College.
For the Library of
Corpus Christi
College.
For the Library of
Baliol
College.
For the Library of
Worcester
College.
For the Library of
Magdasen
College.
For the Library of
Queen
's College.
For the Library of
University
College.
For the Library of
New-College.
For the Library of
Brazen-nose
College.
For the Library of
Trinity
College.
For the Library of St.
John
's College.
For the Library of
Merton
College.
P.
EArl of
Peterborough,
for five Setts.
Earl of
Pembroke.
Earl of
Pontefract,
for five Setts.
Earl
Pawlet.
Earl of
Portmore.
Earl of
Plymouth.
Lord
Pagett.
Lord
Percival.
Colonel
Pagett.
Right Honourable
William Pulteney,
Esq
for ten Setts.
Honourable
Henry Pelham,
Secretary at War.
Sir
Gregory Page.
John Plumtree,
Esq
George Pitt,
Esq
Thomas Palmer,
Esq
Walter Plummer,
Esq
William Plummer,
Esq
Richard Plummer,
Esq
Sir
Thomas Prendergast.
William Peyto,
Esq
Pendock,
Esq
Robert Packer,
Esq
Henry Pye,
Esq
Humphry Parsons,
Esq
Bulstrode Peachy,
Esq
Henry Pelham
of
Lewes,
Esq
Richardson Pack,
Esq
Richard Powys,
Esq
Daniel Pulteney,
Esq
Q.
DƲ ke of
Queensborough
and
Dover,
for five Setts.
Dutchess of
Queensborough.
R.
DƲ ke of
Richmond,
for three Setts.
Duke of
Roxburgh.
Duke of
Rutland,
for two Setts.
Dutchess of
Rutland,
for two Setts.
Sir
Robert Raymond,
one of the Judges of the Court of
King
's-
bench,
for two Setts.
Thomas Reeve,
Esq
John Rudge,
Esq
Reverend Mr.
Randolph.
Major
Roberts.
Mrs.
Reed.
Sir
Thomas Robinson.
Mrs.
Anastasia Robinson.
William Raymond,
Esq
Sir
John Rushout.
Thomas Rowney,
Esq
Mrs.
Rolle.
Sir
Thomas Read.
William Rollinson,
Esq
Mr.
Thomas Rollinson.
James Reynolds,
Esq
Mr.
Richardson.
S.
DƲ ke of
Somerset.
Earl of
Scarborough,
for five Setts.
Lady Viscountess
Scudamore,
for five Setts.
Earl of
Sunderland.
Earl of
Stair.
Earl of
Selkirk.
Earl of
Stafford.
Earl of
Strafford.
Earl of
Scarsdale.
Earl of
Shaftsbury.
Earl of
Sussex,
for five Setts.
Lord
Stanhope.
Lord
St. John
of
Bletso.
Right Hon. Lady
St. John.
Right Hon. Lady
Somerville.
Right Honourable Sir
Robert Sutton.
Right Honourable Lady
Diana Spencer.
Sir
William Stapleton.
John Scrope,
Esq
Secretary to the Treasury.
Charles Stanhope,
Esq
Reverend Dr.
Snape.
Reverend Doctor
Sherlock,
Dean of
Chichester.
Reverend Dr.
Shippen.
Reverend Mr.
George Spenser.
Simon Smith,
Esq
John Selwyn,
Esq
Samuel Sandys,
Esq
Thomas Scawen,
Esq
John Sayer,
Esq
Exton Sayer,
LL. D. Chancellor of
Durham.
Mrs.
Smith
of
Hantshire.
Mrs.
Stroud.
John Snell,
Esq
Henry Summers,
Esq
Sir
William Strickland.
Robert Surman
of
Valentines,
Esq
Richard Sutton,
Esq
Reverend Dr.
Swift,
Dean of St.
Patrick
's,
Dublin.
Reverend Dr.
Stratford.
Henry Slingsby,
Esq
Baron
Swartz.
General
Sabine.
William Sloper,
Esq
T.
LOrd Viscount
Townshend,
one of His Majesty's Principal Secretaries of State, for ten Setts.
Earl of
Thomond,
for three Setts.
Earl of
Tankerville.
Lord
Trevor.
Lord Viscount
Tyrconnel.
Sir
Thomas Twysden.
Sir
James Thornhill.
Mrs.
Twine.
Samuel Travers,
Esq
Edward Thompson,
Esq
Jo. Taylor,
Esq
William Trumbull,
Esq
Colonel
Tyrrell.
Thomas Tickell,
Esq
Mr.
William Tims.
V.
EArl of
Uxbridge,
for two Setts.
Madame la Marquise de
Villette.
Lord
Vane.
Honourable
Vane,
Esq
Honourable
John Verney,
Esq
Arthur Vansitart,
Esq
for two Setts.
Bowater Vernon,
Esq
James Vernon,
Esq
Mrs.
Jane Vernon.
Reverend Mr.
Alexander Vievar.
Sir
Peter Vandeput.
Thomas Vere,
Esq
Thomas Uthwat,
Esq
W.
DƲ ke of
Wharton.
Earl of
Winchelsea.
Right Honourable Robert Walpole, Chancellor of the
Exchequer,
and first Lord of the Treasury, for ten Setts.
Lord
Walpole.
Lady
Walpole.
Lord
Waldegrave.
Honourable
Edward Wortley Mountague,
for five Setts.
Right Honourable Lady
Mary Wortley.
Sir
William Wyndham.
Right Hon. Lady
Katharine Wyndham.
Charles Wyndham,
Esq
Honourable
Thomas Willoughby,
Esq
Sir
George Warburton.
Honourable
Francis Willoughby,
Esq
Sir
Robert Walter.
Henry Watkins,
Esq
Peer Williams,
Esq
Lady
Worden.
General
Wade.
Wentworth,
Esq
Francis Whitworth,
Esq
Thomas Walker,
Esq
John Wright,
Esq
James Wallyn,
Esq
Daniel Wray,
Esq
Reverend Mr.
Henry Wastell.
Reverend Mr.
John Ward,
Fellow of
Queen
's College,
Cambridge.
Mr.
John Walton.
Mr.
John Wootton.
Y.
HIs Grace Sir
William Dawes,
Lord Arch-bishop of
York.
Sir
Philip York,
his Majesty's Attorney-General, for two Setts.
Right Honourable
William Yonge,
Esq
Reverend Mr.
Edward Young.
A GENERAL VIEW of the EPIC POEM, And of the
ILIAD
and
ODYSSEY.
Extracted from
BOSSU.
SECT. I.
Of the Nature of Epic Poetry
T HE Fables of Poets were originally employ'd in representing the
Divine Nature,
according to the notion then conceiv'd of it. This sublime Subject occasion'd the first Poets to be call'd Divines, and Poetry
the Language of the Gods.
They divided the divine Attributes into so many Persons; because the infirmity of a human Mind cannot sufficiently conceive, or explain, so much Power and Action in a Simplicity so great and indivisible as that of God. And perhaps they were also jealous of the advantages they reap'd from such excellent and exalted learning, and of which they thought the vulgar part of mankind was not worthy.
They could not describe the Operations of this Almighty Cause, without speaking at the same time of its Effects: so that to Divinity they added
Physiology,
and treated of both, without quitting the umbrages of their Allegorical Expressions.
But
Man
being the chief and the most noble of all that God produc'd, and nothing being so proper, or more useful to Poets than this Subject; they added it to the former, and treated of the doctrine of
Morality
after the same manner as they did that of Divinity and Philosophy: And from Morality thus treated, is form'd that kind of Poem and Fable which we call
Epic.
The Poets did the same in Morality, that the Divines had done in Divinity. But that infinite variety of the actions and operations of the Divine Nature, (to which our understanding bears so small a proportion) did as it were force them upon dividing the single Idea of the Only One God into several Persons, under the different names of
Jupiter, Juno, Neptune,
and the rest.
And on the other hand, the nature of Moral Philosophy being such, as never to treat of things in particular, but in general; the Epic Poets were oblig'd to unite in one single Idea, in one and the same Person, and in an Action which appear'd singular, all that look'd like it in different persons, and in various actions; which might be thus contain'd as so many
Species
under their
Genus.
The Presence of the Deity, and the Care such an august Cause is to be suppos'd to take about any action, obliges the Poet to represent this action as great, important, and manag'd by
Res gestae regumque ducumque.
Hor. Art. Poet.
Kings and Princes. It obliges him likewise to think and speak in an elevated way above the vulgar, and in a style that may in some fort keep up the character of the Divine Persons he introduces.
Cui mens divinior atque os Magna sonaturum, des Nominis hujus honorem.
Horat.
To this end serve the poetical and figurative Expression, and the Majesty of the Heroick Verse.
But all this, being divine and surprising, may quite ruin all Probability: Therefore the Poet should take a peculiar care as to that point, since his chief aim is to instruct, and without Probability any action is less likely to persuade.
Lastly, since Precepts ought to be
Quicquid praecipies esto brevis, ut citò dicta Percipiant animi dociles, teneantque fideles.
Hor. Poet.
concise, to be the more easily conceiv'd, and less oppress the memory; and since nothing can be more effectual to this end than proposing one single Idea, and collecting all things so well together, as to be present to our minds all at once; therefore the Poets have reduc'd all to one
Denique sit quodvis simplex duntaxat, & unum.
bid.
single action, under one and the same design, and in a body whose members and parts should be homogeneous.
What we have observ'd of the nature of the Epic Poem, gives us a just Idea of it, and we may define it thus:
"The Epic Poem is a discourse invented by art, to form the Manners, by such instructions as are disguis'd under the allegories of some One important Action, which is related in verse, after a probable, diverting, and surprizing manner."
SECT. II.
The Fable of the
Iliad.
IN every design which a man deliberately undertakes, the end he proposes is the first thing in his mind, and that by which he governs the whole work, and all its parts: Thus since the End of the Epic Poem is to regulate the Manners, 'tis with this first view the Poet ought to begin.
But there is a great difference between the Philosophical and the Poetical doctrine of Manners. The Schoolmen content themselves with treating of Virtues and Vices in general: the instructions they give are proper for all States, People, and for all Ages. But the Poet has a nearer regard to his own Country, and the necessities of his own nation. With this design he makes choice of some piece of morality, the most proper and just he can imagin: And in order to press this home, he makes less use of the force of Reasoning, than of the power of Insinuation; accommodating himself to the particular customs and inclinations of those, who are to be the subject, or the readers, of his work.
Let us now see how
Homer
has acquitted himself in all these respects.
He saw the
Grecians,
for whom he design'd his Poem, were divided into as many States as they had capital Cities. Each was a Body Politick apart, and had its form of government independent from all the rest. And yet these distinct States were very often oblig'd to unite together in one body against their common Enemies. These were two very different sorts of Government, such as could not be comprehended in one maxim of morality, and in one single Poem.
The Poet therefore has made two distinct Fables of them. The one is for
Greece
in general, united into one body, but compos'd of parts independent on each other; and the other for each particular state, consider'd as they were in time of peace, without the former circumstances and the necessity of being united.
As for the first sort of government, in the Union or rather in the Confederacy of many independent States; experience has always made it appear,
"That nothing so much causes success as a due subordination, and a right understanding among the chief commanders. And on the other hand, the inevitable ruin of such confederacies proceeds from the heats, jealousies and ambition of the differerent leaders, and the discontents of submitting to a single General."
All sorts of States, and in particular the
Grecians,
had dearly experienc'd this truth. So that the most useful and necessary instruction that could be given them, was, to lay before their eyes the loss which both the People and the Princes must of necessity suffer, by the ambition, discord, and obstinacy of the latter.
Homer
then has taken for the foundation of his Fable this great Truth; That a Misunderstanding between Princes is the Ruin of their own States.
"I sing (says he) the Anger of
Achilles,
so pernicious to the
Grecians,
and the cause of so many Heroe's deaths, occasion'd by the Discord and Separation of
Agamemnon
and that Prince."
But that this truth may be compleatly and fully known, there is need of a second to support it. 'Tis necessary in such a design, not only to represent the Confederate States at first disagreeing among themselves, and from thence unfortunate; but to show the same States afterwards reconciled and united, and of consequence victorious.
Let us now see how he has joyn'd all these in one general action.
"Several Princes independent on one another were united against a common enemy. The person whom they had elected their General, offers an affront to the most valiant of all the Confederates. This offended Prince is so far provoked, as to relinquish the Union, and obstinately refuse to fight for the common cause. This Mis-understanding gives the enemy such an advantage, that the Allies are very near quitting their design with dishonour. He himself who made the separation is not exempt from sharing the misfortune which he brought upon his party. For having permitted his intimate friend to succour them in a great necessity, this friend is kill'd by the enemy's General. Thus the contending Princes being both made wiser at their own cost, are reconcil'd, and unite again: Then this valiant Prince not only obtains the victory in the publick cause, but revenges his private wrongs by killing with his own hands the author of the death of his friend."
This is the first Platform of the Poem, and the Fiction, which reduces into one important and universal Action all the particulars upon which it turns.
In the next place it must be render'd Probable by the circumstances of times, places and persons; Some persons must be found out, already known by History or otherwise, whom we may with Probability make the actors and personages of this Fable.
Homer
has made choice of the siege of
Troy,
and feign'd that this action happen'd there. To a Phantome of his brain, whom he would paint valiant and cholerick, he has given the name of
Achilles
; that of
Agamemnon
to his General; that of
Hector
to the Enemies Commander, and so to the rest.
Besides, he was oblig'd to accommodate himself to the manners, customs, and genius of the
Greeks
his Auditors, the better to make them attend to the instruction of his Poem; and to gain their approbation by praising them: So that they might the better forgive him the representation of their own faults in some of his chief Personages. He admirably discharges all these duties, by making these brave Princes and those victorious people all
Grecians,
and the fathers of those he had a mind to commend.
But not being content, in a work of such a length, to propose only the principal point of the Moral, and to fill up the rest with useless ornaments and foreign incidents, he extends this Moral by all its necessary consequences. As for instance in the subject before us, 'tis not enough to know, that a good understanding ought always to be maintain'd among Confederates: 'Tis likewise of equal importance, that if there happens any division, care must be taken to keep it secret from the enemy, that their ignorance of this advantage may prevent their making use of it. And in the second place, when their concord is but counterfeit and only in appearance, one should never press the enemy too closely; for this would discover the weakness which we ought to conceal from them.
The Episode of
Patroclus
most admirably furnishes us with these two instructions. For when he appear'd in the arms of
Achilles,
the
Trojans,
who took him for that Prince now reconciled and united to the Confederates, immediately gave ground, and quitted the advantages they had before over the
Greeks.
But
Patroclus,
who should have been contented with this success, presses upon
Hector
too boldly, and by obliging him to fight, soon discovers that it was not the true
Achilles
who was clad in his armour, but a Heroe of much inferior prowess. So that
Hector
kills him, and regains those advantages which the
Trojans
had lost, on the opinion that
Achilles
was reconciled.
SECT. III.
The Fable of the
Odyssey.
THE
Odyssey
was not design'd, like the
Iliad,
for the instruction of all the States of
Greece
join'd in one body, but for each State in particular. As a State is compos'd of two parts; the Head which commands, and the Members which obey; there are instructions requisite for both, to teach the one to govern, and the others to submit to Government.
There are two Virtues necessary to one in authority, Prudence to order, and Care to see his orders put in execution. The Prudence of a Politician is not acquir'd but by a long experience in all sorts of business, and by an acquaintance with all the different forms of Governments and States. The Care of the Administration suffers not him that has the Government to rely upon others, but requires his own presence: And Kings who are absent from their States, are in danger of losing them, and give occasion to great disorders and confusion.
These two points may be easily united in one and the same man.
* "A King forsakes his Kingdom to visit the courts of several Princes, where he learns the manners and customs of different nations. From hence there naturally arises a vast number of incidents, of dangers, and of adventures, very useful for a Political Institution. On the other side, this Absence gives way to the disorders which happen in his own kingdom, and which end not till his return, whose presence only can reestablish all things."
Thus the Absence of a King has the same effects in this Fable, as the Division of the Princes had in the former.
The Subjects have scarce any need but of one general maxim, which is, To suffer themselves to be govern'd, and to obey faithfully; whatever reason they may imagine against the orders they receiv'd. It is easy to join this instruction with the other, by bestowing on this wise and industrious Prince such Subjects, as in his absence would rather follow their own judgment than his commands: and by demonstrating the misfortunes which this disobedience draws upon them, the evil consequences which almost infallibly attend these particular notions, which are entirely different from the general Idaea of him who ought to govern.
But as it was necessary that the Princes in the
Iliad
shou'd be cholerick and quarrelsome, so it is necessary in the Fable of the
Odyssey
that the chief person should be sage and prudent. This raises a difficulty in the Fiction; because this person ought to be absent for the two reasons aforemention'd, which are essential to the Fable, and which constitute the principal aim of it: But he cannot absent himself, without offending against another maxim of equal importance;
viz.
That a King should upon no account leave his Country.
It is true, there are sometimes such necessities as sufficiently excuse the Prudence of a Politician in this point. But such a necessity is a thing important enough of it self to supply matter for another Poem, and this multiplication of the action would be vicious. To prevent which in the first place, this Necessity and the departure of the Hero must be disjoin'd from the Poem; and in the second place, the Hero having been oblig'd to absent himself, for a reason antecedent to the action and plac'd distinct from the Fable, he ought not so far to embrace this oppornity of instructing himself, as to absent himself voluntarily from his own Government. For at this rate, his Absence would be meerly Voluntary, and one might with reason lay to his charge all the disorders which might arrive.
Thus in the constitution of the Fable, he ought not to take for his action, and for the foundation of his Poem, the Departure of a Prince from his own country, nor his voluntary stay in any other place; but his Return, and this return retarded against his will. This is the first Idea
Homer
gives us of it.
Odyss. 5.
His Hero appears at first in a desolate Island, sitting upon the side of the Sea, which with tears in his eyes he looks upon as the obstacle that had so long oppos'd his Return, and detain'd him from revisiting his own dear Country.
And lastly, since this forc'd delay might more naturally and usually happen to such as make voyages by sea;
Homer
has judiciously made choice of a Prince whose Kingdom was in an Island.
Let us see then how he has feign'd all this Action, making his Hero a person in years, because Years are requisite to instruct a man in Prudence and Policy.
"A Prince had been oblig'd to forsake his native Country, and to head an Army of his Subjects in a foreign expedition. Having gloriously perform'd this enterprise, he was marching home again, and conducting his Subjects to his own State. But spite of all the attempts, with which his eagerness to return had inspir'd him, he was stopp'd by the way by tempests for several years, and cast upon several countries differing from each other in Manners and Government. In these dangers his Companions, not always following his orders, perish'd through their own fault. The Grandees of his country strangely abuse his absence, and raise no small disorders at home. They consume his estate, conspire to destroy his son, would constrain his Queen to accept of one of them for her Husband; and indulge themselves in all violence, so much the more, because they were persuaded he would never return. But at last he returns, and discovering himself only to his son and some others, who had continu'd firm to him, he is an eye-witness of the insolence of his enemies, punishes them according to their deserts, and restores to his Island that tranquility and repose to which they had been strangers during his absence."
As the Truth, which serves for foundation to this fiction is, that the Absence of a person from his own home, or his neglect of his own affairs, is the cause of great disorders: So the Principal point of the Action, and the most Essential one, is the Absence of the Heroe. This fills almost all the Poem: For not only this real absence lasted several years, but even when the Heroe return'd, he does not discover himself; and this prudent disguise, from whence he reap'd so much advantage, has the same effect upon the Authors of the disorders, and all others who knew him not, as his real absence had before, so that he is absent as to them, 'till the very moment of their punishment.
After the Poet had thus compos'd his Fable, and join'd the Fiction to the Truth, he then makes choice of
Ulysses,
the King of the Isle of
Ithaca,
to maintain the character of his chief Personage, and bestow'd the rest upon
Telemachus, Penelope, Antinous,
and others, whom he calls by what names he pleases.
I shall not here insist upon the many excellent advices, which are so many parts, and natural consequences of the fundamental Truth; and which the Poet very dextrously lays down in those fictions, which are the Episodes and Members of the entire Action. Such for instance are these advices: Not to intrude one's self into the Mysteries of Government, which the Prince keeps secret: This is represented to us by the winds shut up in a bullhide, which the miserable Companions of
Ulysses
would needs be so foolish as to pry into. Not to suffer ones self to be led away by the seeming Charms of an idle and inactive life, to which the
Sirens Songs
invited.
Improba Siren desidia.
Horat.
Not to suffer ones self to be sensualiz'd by pleasures, like those who were chang'd into brutes by
Circe:
And a great many other points of Morality necessary for all sorts of people.
This Poem is more useful to the People than the
Iliad,
where the Subjects suffer rather by the ill conduct of their Princes, than through their own miscarriages. But in the
Odyssey,
'tis not the fault of
Ulysses
that is the ruin of his Subjects. This wise Prince leaves untry'd no method to make them partakers of the benefit of his return. Thus the Poet in the
Iliad
says,
"He sings the anger of
Achilles,
which had caused the death of so many
Grecians
;"
and on the contrary, in the
Odyss. 1.
Odyssey
he tells his Readers,
"That the Subjects perished through their own fault."
SECT. IV.
Of the Unity of the Fable.
ARISTOTLE
bestows great Encomiums on
Homer
for the Simplicity of his design, because he has included in one single part all that happen'd at the siege of
Troy.
And to this he opposes the ignorance of some Poets who imagin'd that the Unity of the Fable or Action was sufficiently preserved by the Unity of the Heroe: and who compos'd their
Theseids, Heracleids,
and the like, wherein they only heap'd up in one Poem every thing that happen'd to one Personage.
He finds fault with those Poets who were for reducing the Unity of the
Fable
into the Unity of the
Heroe,
because one man may have performed several adventures, which 'tis impossible to reduce under any one and simple head. This reducing of all things to Unity and Simplicity is what
Horace
likewise makes his first Rule.
Denique sit quodvis simplex duntaxat, & unum.
According to these Rules, it will be allowable to make use of several Fables; or (to speak more correctly) of several Incidents which may be divided into several Fables; provided they are so ordered, that the Unity of the Fable be not spoil'd. This liberty is still greater in the Epic Poem, because 'tis of a larger extent, and ought to be entire and compleat.
I will explain my self more distinctly by the Practice of
Homer.
No doubt but one might make four distinct Fables out of these four following Instructions.
1. Division between those of the same Party exposes them entirely to their enemies.
2. Conceal your Weakness, and you will be dreaded as much, as if you had none of those imperfections, of which they are ignorant.
3. When your strength is only feign'd, and founded only in the Opinion of others; never venture so far as if your strength was real.
4. The more you agree together, the less hurt can your Enemies do you.
'Tis plain, I say, that each of these particular Maxims might serve for the Ground-work of a Fiction, and one might make four distinct Fables out of them. May one not then put all these into one single
Epopea?
Not unless one single Fable can be made out of all. The Poet indeed may have so much skill as to unite all into one Body, as Members and Parts, each of which taken asunder would be imperfect; and if he joins them so, as that this Conjunction shall be no hindrance at all to the Unity and the regular Simplicity of the Fable. This is what
Homer
has done with such success in the composition of the
Iliad.
1.
The Division between
Achilles
and his Allies tended to the ruin of their Designs.
2. Patroclus
comes to their relief in the Armour of this Heroe, and
Hector
retreats.
3.
But this young Man pushing the advantage, which his disguize gave him, too far, ventures to engage with
Hector
himself; but not being master of
Achilles
's strength (whom he only represented in outward appearance) he is killed, and by
this means leaves the
Grecian
Affairs in the same disorder, from which in that disguise he came to free them.
4. Achilles
provok'd at the death of his Friend, is reconciled, and revenges his loss by the death of
Hector. These various incidents being thus united, do not make different Actions and Fables, but are only the uncompleat and unfinish'd parts of one and the same Action and Fable, which alone can be said to be compleat and entire: And all these Maxims of the Moral, are easily reduc'd into these two parts, which in my opinion cannot be separated without enervating the force of both. The two parts are these,
Concordiâ resparvae crescunt: discordiâ magnae dilabuntur.
Salust. de bello Jug.
That a right Understanding is the preservation, and Discord the destruction of States.
Tho' then the Poet has made use of two parts in his Poems, each of which might have serv'd for a Fable, as we have observ'd: Yet this Multiplication cannot be call'd a vicious and irregular
Polymythia,
contrary to the necessary Unity and Simplicity of the Fable; but it gives the Fable another qualification, altogether necessary and regular, namely its Perfection and finishing stroke.
SECT. V.
Of the
Action
of the Epic Poem.
THE Action of a Poem is the Subject which the Poet undertakes, proposes, and builds upon. So that the Moral and the Instructions which are the End of the Epic Poem are not the Matter of it. Those the Poets leave in their Allegorical and figurative obscurity. They only give notice at the
Exordium,
that they sing some
Action.
The
Revenge of
Achilles, the
Return of
Ulysses,
&c.
Since then the Action is the Matter of a Fable, it is evident that whatever incidents are essential to the Fable, or constitute a part of it, are necessary also to the Action, and are parts of the Epic Matter, none of which ought to be omitted. Such for instance, are the contention of
Agamemnon
and
Achilles,
the slaughter
Hector
makes in the
Grecian
Army, the Re union of the
Greek
Princes; and lastly, the Re-settlement and Victory which was the consequence of that Re-union.
There are four qualifications in the Epic Action: the first is its
Unity,
the second its
Integrity,
the third its
Importance,
the fourth its
Duration.
The Unity of the Epic Action, as well as the Unity of the Fable, does not consist either in the Unity of the Heroe, or in the Unity of Time: Three things I suppose are necessary to it. The first is, to make use of no Episode but what arises from the very platform and foundation of the Action, and is as it were a natural member of the body. The second is, exactly to Unite these Episodes and these Members with one another. And the third is, never to finish any Episode so as it may seem to be an entire Action; but to let each Episode still appear in its own particular nature, as the member of a body, and as a part of it self not compleat.
Of the Beginning, Middle, and End of the Action.
Aristotle
not only says that the Epic Action should be One, but adds, that it should be entire, perfect, and compleat, and for this purpose ought to have a
Beginning,
a
Middle,
and an
End.
These three parts of a whole are too generally and universally denoted by the words, Beginning, Middle, and End; we may interpret them more precisely, and say, That the Causes and Designs of an Action are the Beginning: That the Effects of these Causes, and the Difficulties that are met with in the execution of these designs, are the Middle; and that the Unravelling and Resolution of these difficulties are the End.
The Action of the
Iliad.
Homer
's design in the
Iliad
is to relate the Anger and Revenge of
Achilles.
The Beginning of this Action is the Change of
Achilles
from a calm to a passionate temper. The Middle is the Effects of his Passion, and all the illustrious Deaths it is the Cause of. The End of this same Action is the Return of
Achilles
to his Calmness of temper again. All was quiet in the
Grecian
Camp, when
Agamemnon
their General provokes
Apollo
against them, whom he was willing to appease afterwards at the cost and prejudice of
Achilles,
who had no part in his fault. This then is an exact Beginning: It supposes nothing before, and requires after it the Effects of this Anger.
Achilles
revenges himself, and that is an exact Middle; it supposes before it the Anger of
Achilles,
this Revenge is the Effect of it. Then this Middle requires after it the Effects of this Revenge, which is the Satisfaction of
Achilles:
for the Revenge had not been compleat, unless
Achilles
had been satisfied. By this means the Poet makes his Heroe, after he was glutted by the Mischief he had done to
Agamemnon,
by the death of
Hector,
and the Honour he did his Friend, by insulting o'er his Murderer; he makes him, I say, to be moved by the Tears and Misfortunes of King
Priam.
We see him as calm at the End of the Poem, during the Funeral of
Hector,
as he was at the Beginning of the Poem, whilst the Plague raged among the
Grecians.
This End is just, since the Calmness of temper
Achilles
re enjoy'd, is only an Effect of the Revenge which ought to have preceded: And after this no Body expects any more of his Anger. Thus has
Homer
been very exact in the Beginning, Middle and End of the Action he made choice of for the Subject of his
Iliad.
The Action of the
Odyssey.
His Design in the
Odyssey
was to describe the Return of
Ulysses
from the Siege of
Troy,
and his Arrival at
Ithaca.
He opens this Poem with the complaints of
Minerva
against
Neptune,
who opposed the Return of this Heroe, and against
Calypso
who detain'd him in an Island from
Ithaca.
Is this a Beginning? No; doubtless, the Reader would know why
Neptune
is displeas'd with
Ulysses,
and how this Prince came to be with
Calypso
? He would know how he came from
Troy
thither? The Poet answers his Demands out of the Mouth of
Ulysses
himself, who relates these things, and begins the Action, by the Recital of his Travels from the City of
Troy.
It signifies little whether the Beginning of the Action be the Beginning of the Poem. The Beginning of this Action is that which happens to
Ulysses,
when upon his leaving
Troy
he bends his Course for
Ithaca.
The Middle comprehends all the Misfortunes he endured, and all the Disorders of his own Government. The End is the re-instating of this Hero in the peaceable possession of his Kingdom, where he was acknowledg'd by his Son, his Wife, his Father, and several others. The Poet was sensible he should have ended ill had he gone no farther than the death of these Princes, who were the Rivals and Enemies of
Ulysses,
because the Reader might have look'd for some Revenge which the Subjects of these Princes might have taken, on him who had kill'd their Sovereigns: But this Danger over, and the People vanquished and quieted, there was nothing more to be expected. The Poem and the Action have all their Parts, and no more.
But the Order of the
Odyssey
differs from that of the
Iliad,
in that the
Poem
does not begin with the Beginning of the
Action.
Of the Causes and Beginning of the Action.
The
Causes of the Action
are also what the Poet is oblig'd to give an Account of. There are three sorts of Causes, the Humours, the Interests, and the Designs of Men; and these different Causes of an Action are likewise often the Causes of one another, every Man taking up those Interests in which his Humour ingages him, and forming those Designs to which his Humour and Interest incline him. Of all these the Poet ought to inform his Readers, and render them conspicuous in his principal Personages.
Homer
has ingeniously begun his
Odyssey
with the Transactions at
Ithaca,
during the absence of
Ulysses.
If he had begun with the Travels of his Heroe, he would scarce have spoken of any one else, and a Man might have read a great deal of the Poem, without conceiving the least Idea of
Telemachus, Penelope,
or her Suitors, who had so great a share in the Action; but in the beginning he has pitch'd upon, besides these Personages, whom he discovers, he represents
Ulysses
in his full Length, and from the very first opening one sees the Interest which the Gods take in the Action.
The Skill and Care of the same Poet may be seen likewise in inducing his Personages in the first Book of his
Iliad,
where he discovers the Humours, the Interests, and the Designs of
Agamemnon,
Achilles, Hector, Ulysses,
and several others, and even of the Deities. And in his Second he makes a Review of the
Grecian
and
Trojan
Armies; which is full Evidence, that all we have here said is very necessary.
Of the Middle or Intrigue of the Action.
As these
Causes
are the
Beginning
of the Action, the opposite Designs against that of the Hero are the
Middle
of it, and form that Difficulty or
Intrigue,
which makes up the greatest part of the Poem; the Solution or
Unravelling
commences when the Reader begins to see that difficulty remov'd, and the doubts clear'd up.
Homer
has divided each of his Poems into two Parts, and has put a particular Intrigue, and the Solution of it, into each Part.
The first Part of the
Iliad
is the Anger of
Achilles,
who is for revenging himself upon
Agamemnon
by the means of
Hector
and the
Trojans.
The
Intrigue
comprehends the three days Fight, which happen'd in the Absence of
Achilles
: and it consists on one side in the resistance of
Agamemnon
and the
Grecians
; and on the other in the revengeful and inexorable Humour of
Achilles,
which would not suffer him to be reconcil'd. The Loss of the
Grecians
and the Despair of
Agamemnon,
prepare for a solution by the satisfaction which the incens'd Heroe receiv'd from it. The death of
Patroclus
join'd to the Offers of
Agamemnon,
which of it self had prov'd ineffectual, remove this Difficulty, and make the untravelling of the first part.
This death is likewise the Beginning of the second Part; since it puts
Achilles
upon the design of revenging himself on
Hector.
But the design of
Hector
is opposite to that of
Achilles
; This
Trojan
is valiant, and resolv'd to stand on his own defence. This Valour and Resolution of
Hector,
are on his part the cause of the Intrigue. All the Endeavours
Achilles
us'd, to meet with
Hector
and be the death of him; and the contrary Endeavours of the
Trojan
to keep out of his Reach, and defend himself; are the intrigue; which comprehends the battle of the last day. The unravelling begins at the death of
Hector
; and besides that, it contains the insulting of
Achilles
over his Body, the Honours he paid to
Patroclus,
and the Intreaties of King
Priam.
The regrets of this King and the other
Trojans,
in the sorrowful Obsequies they paid to
Hector
's body, end the unravelling; they justifie the satisfaction of
Achilles,
and demonstrate his Tranquillity.
The first part of the
Odyssey
is the return of
Ulysses
into
Ithaca. Neptune
opposes it by raising tempests, and this makes the Intrigue. The unravelling is the arrival of
Ulysses
upon his own Island, where
Neptune
could offer him no farther injury. The second Part is the re-instating this Heroe in his own Government. The Princes that are his Rivals, oppose him, and this is a fresh Intrigue: The Solution of it begins at their deaths, and is compleated as soon as the
Ithacans
were appeas'd.
These two Parts in the
Odyssey
have not one common Intrigue. The Anger of
Achilles
forms both the Intrigues in the
Iliad
; and it is so far the Matter of this
Epopéa,
that the very Beginning and End of this Poem depend on the Beginning and End of this Anger. But let the Desire
Achilles
had to revenge himself, and the Desire
Ulysses
had to return to his own Country, be never so near ally'd, yet we cannot place them under one and the same Notion: For that Desire of
Ulysses
is not a Passion that Begins and Ends in the Poem with the Action; 'tis a natural Habit; nor does the Poet propose it for his Subject as he does the Anger of
Achilles.
We have already observ'd what is meant by the
Intrigue,
and the
Unravelling
thereof; let us now say something of the Manner of forming both. These two should arise naturally out of the very Essence and Subject of the Poem, and are to be deduced from thence. Their Conduct is so exact and natural, that it seems as if their Action had presented them with whatever they inserted, without putting themselves to the Trouble of a farther Inquiry.
What is more usual and natural to Warriors, than Anger, Heat, Passion, and Impatience of bearing the least Affront or Disrespect? This is what forms the Intrigue of the
Iliad
; and every thing we read there is nothing else but the Effect of this Humour and these Passions.
What more natural and usual Obstacle to those who take Voyages, than the Sea, the Winds, and the Storms?
Homer
makes this the Intrigue of the first Part of the
Odyssey
: And for the second, he makes use of almost the infallible effect of the long Absence of a Master, whose return is quite despair'd of,
viz.
the Insolence of his Servants and Neighbours, the Danger of his Son and Wife, and the Sequestration of his Estate. Besides an Absence of almost twenty Years, and the insupportable Fatigues joyn'd to the Age of which
Ulysses
then was, might induce him to believe that he should not be own'd by those who thought him dead, and whose Interest it was to have him really so. Therefore if he had presently declar'd who he was, and had call'd himself
Ulysses,
they would easily have destroy'd him as an Impostor, before he had an Opportunity to make himself known.
There could be nothing more natural nor more necessary than this ingenious Disguise, to which the advantages his Enemies had taken of his Absence had reduc'd him, and to which his long Misfortunes had enur'd him. This allow'd him an opportunity, without hazarding any thing, of taking the best measures he could, against those persons who could not so much as mistrust any harm from him. This way was afforded him by the very Nature of his Action, to execute his Designs, and overcome the Obstacles it cast before him. And 'tis this contest between the Prudence and the Dissimulation of a single Man on one hand, and the ungovernable Insolence of so many Rivals on the other, which constitutes the Intrigue of the second Part of the
Odyssey.
Of the End or Unravelling of the Action.
If the
Plot
or
Intrigue
must be natural, and such as springs from the very Subject, as has been already urg'd: Then the
Winding up
of the Plot, by a more sure claim, must have this Qualification, and be a probable consequence of all that went before. As this is what the Readers regard more than the rest, so should the Poet be more exact in it. This is the End of the Poem, and the last Impression that is to be stamp'd upon them.
We shall find this in the
Odyssey. Ulysses
by a Tempest is cast upon the Island of the
Phaeacians,
to whom he discovers himself, and desires they would favor his Return to his own Country which was not very far distant. One cannot see any reason why the King of this Island should refuse such a reasonable Request, to a Heroe whom he seem'd to have in great esteem. The
Phaeacians
indeed had heard him tell the Story of his Adventures; and in this fabulous recital consisted all the advantage they could derive from his Presence; for the Art of War which they admir'd in him, his Undauntedness under Dangers, his indefatigable Patience, and other Virtues, were such as these Islanders were not used to. All their Talent lay in singing and dancing, and whatsoever was charming in a quiet life. And here we see how dextrously
Homer
prepares the Incidents he makes use of. These People could do no less, for the Account with which
Ulysses
had so much entertain'd them, than afford him a Ship and a safe Convoy, which was of little expence or trouble to them.
When he arriv'd, his long Absence, and the Travels which had disfigur'd him, made him altogether unknown; and the Danger he would have incurr'd had he discover'd himself too soon, forced him to a Disguise: Lastly, this Disguise gave him an Opportunity of surprizing those young Suitors, who for several years together had been accustomed to nothing but to sleep well, and fare daintily.
It was from these Examples that
Aristotle
drew this Rule,
"that Whatever concludes the Poem should so spring from the very constitution of the Fable, as if it were a
necessary,
or at least a
probable
consequence."
SECT VI.
The Time of the Action.
THE
Time
of the Epic Action is not fix'd, like that of the Dramatic Poem: It is much longer, for an uninterrupted Duration is much more necessary in an Action which one sees and is present at, than in one which we only read or hear repeated. Besides, Tragedy is fuller of Passion, and consequently of such a Violence as cannot admit of so long a Duration.
The
Iliad
containing an Action of
Anger
and
Violence,
the Poet allows it but a short time, about
forty days.
The Design of the
Odyssey
required another Conduct; the Character of the Hero is
Prudence
and
Long-suffering
; therefore the Time of its Duration is much longer, above
eight Years.
The Passions of the Epic Poem.
The
Passions
of Tragedy are different from those of the Epic Poem. In the former,
Terror
and
Pity
have the chief place; the Passion that seems most peculiar to Epic Poetry, is
Admiration.
Besides this
Admiration,
which in general distinguishes the Epic Poem from the Dramatic; each Epic Poem has likewise some
peculiar Passion,
which distinguishes it in particular from other Epic Poems, and constitutes a kind of singular and individual difference between these Poems of the same Species. These singular Passions correspond to the
Character
of the
Hero. Anger
and
Terror
reign throughout the
Iliad,
because
Achilles
is angry, and the most Terrible of all Men. The
Aeneid
has all
soft
and
tender Passions,
because that is the Character of
Aeneas.
The Prudence, Wisdom, and Constancy of
Ulysses
do not allow him either of these Extremes, therefore the Poet does not permit one of them to be predominant in the
Odyssey.
He confines himself to
Admiration
only, which he carries to an higher pitch than in the
Iliad
: And 'tis upon this account that he introduces a great many more Machines in the
Odyssey
into the Body of the Action, than are to be seen in the Actions of the other two Poems.
The Manners.
The
Manners
of the Epic Poem ought to be
poetically good,
but it is not necessary they be always
morally
so. They are poetically good, when one may discover the Virtue or Vice, the good or ill Inclinations, of every one who speaks or acts: They are poetically bad, when Persons are made to speak or act out of Character, or inconsistently, or unequally. The Manners of
Aeneas
and of
Mezentius
are equally good, consider'd poetically, because they equally demonstrate the Piety of the one, and the Impiety of the other.
Character of the Heroe.
'Tis requisite to make the same distinction between a Heroe in Morality and a Heroe in Poetry, as between moral and poetical Goodness.
Achilles
had as much right to the latter as
Aeneas. Aristotle
says, that the Heroe of a Poem should be neither good nor bad; neither advanc'd above the rest of mankind by his Virtues, or sunk beneath 'em by his Vices; that he may be the properer and fuller Example to others, both what to imitate and what to decline.
The other Qualifications of the
Manners,
are, that they be
suitable
to the Causes which either raise or discover them in the Persons; that they have an exact
Resemblance
to what History or Fable have delivered of those persons to whom they are ascrib'd; and that there be an
Equality
in them, so that no man is made to act or speak out of his character.
Unity of the Character.
But this Equality is not sufficient for the
Unity of the Character
: 'tis further necessary that the same Spirit appear in all sort of Encounters. Thus
Aeneas
acting with great
Piety
and
Mildness
in the first part of the
Aeneid,
which requires no other Character; and afterwards appearing illustrious in Heroic valour in the wars of the second part, but there without any appearance either of a hard or a soft disposition, would doubtless be far from offending against the
Equality
of the Manners: But yet there would be no
Simplicity
or
Unity
in the Character. So that besides the Qualities that claim their particular place upon different occasions, there must be One appearing throughout, which commands over all the rest: And without this we may affirm 'tis no Character.
One may indeed make a Heroe as valiant as
Achilles,
as pious as
Aeneas,
and as prudent as
Ulysses.
But 'tis a meer Chimaera to imagine a Heroe that has the Valour of
Achilles,
the Piety of
Aeneas,
and the Prudence of
Ulysses,
at one and the same time. This Vision might happen to an Author, who would suit the character of a Heroe to whatever each part of the Action might naturally require, without regarding the Essence of the Fable, or the Unity of the Character in the same person upon all sorts of occasions: This Heroe would be the mildest, best-natur'd Prince in the world, and also the most cholerick, hard-hearted, and implacable creature imaginable; he would be extreamly tender like
Aeneas,
extreamly violent like
Achilles,
and yet have the indifference of
Ulysses,
that is incapable of the two extremes. Would it not be in vain for the Poet to call this Person by the same name throughout?
Let us reflect on the effects it would produce in several Poems, whose Authors were of opinion, that the chief character of a Heroe is that of an accomplish'd Man. They would be all alike, all valiant in Battle, prudent in Council, pious in the acts of Religion, courteous, civil, magnificent; and lastly endued with all the prodigious Virtues any Poet could invent. All this would be independent from the Action and the Subject of the Poem; and upon seeing each Heroe separated from the rest of the work, we should not easily guess, to what Action and to what Poem the Heroe belong'd? So that we should see that none of those would have a Character, since the Character is that which makes a person discernable, and which distinguishes him from all others.
This commanding Quality in
Achilles
is his Anger, in
Ulysses
the art of Dissimulation, in
Aeneas
Meekness. Each of these may be stil'd, by way of eminence, the Character in these Heroes.
But these Characters cannot be alone. 'Tis absolutely necessary that some other should give them a lustre, and embellish them as far as they are capable: Either by hiding the defects that are in each, by some noble and shining Qualities; as the Poet has done the Anger of
Achilles,
by shading it with an extraordinary Valour: Or by making them entirely of the nature of a true and solid Virtue, as is to be observ'd in the two others. The Dissimulation of
Ulysses
is a part of his Prudence; and the Meekness of
Aeneas
is wholly employ'd in submitting his Will to the Gods. For the making up this Union, our Poets have joyn'd together such Qualities as are by nature the most compatible;
Valour
with
Anger, Meekness
with
Piety,
and
Prudence
with
Dissimulation.
This last Union was necessary for the Goodness of
Ulysses
; for without that, his Dissimulation might have degenerated into Wickedness and Double-dealing.
SECT. VII.
Of the Machinery.
WE come now to the
Machines
of the Epic Poem. The chief Passion which it aims to excite being
Admiration,
nothing is so conducive to that as the
Marvellous
; and the importance and dignity of the Action is by nothing so greatly elevated as by the
Care and Interposition of Heaven.
These Machines are of three sorts. Some are
Theological,
and were invented to explain the nature of God. Others are
Physical,
and represent things of Nature. The last are
Moral,
and are the Images of Virtues and Vices.
Homer
and the Ancients have given to their Deities the Manners, Passions and Vices of Men. Their Poems are wholly Allegorical; and in this view it is easier to defend
Homer
than to blame him. We cannot accuse him for making mention of many Gods, for his bestowing Passions upon them, or even introducing them fighting against men. The Scripture uses the like figures and expressions.
If it be allowable to speak thus of the Gods in
Theology,
much more in the Fictions of
Natural Philosophy,
where if a Poet describes the Deities, he must give them such Manners, Speeches, and Actions as are conformable to the nature of the things they represent under those Divinities. The case is the same in
Moral
Deities:
Minerva
is wise, because she represents Prudence;
Venus
is both good or bad, because the Passion of Love is capable of these contrary qualities.
Since among the Gods of a Poem some are good, some bad, and some indifferently either; and since of our Passions we make so many allegorical Deities; one may attribute to the
Gods
all that is done in the Poem, whether good or evil. But these Deities do not act constantly in one and the same manner.
Sometimes they act invisibly, and by meer Inspiration; which has nothing in it extraordinary or miraculous: being no more than what we say every day,
"That some God has assisted us, or some Daemon has instigated us."
At other times they appear visibly, and manifest themselves to men, in a manner altogether miraculous and praeternatural.
The third way has something of both the others: It is in truth a miracle, but is not commonly so accounted: This includes Dreams, Oracles,
&c.
All these ways must be
Probable
; for so necessary as the Marvellous is to the Epic Action, as nothing is so conducive to Admiration; yet we can on the other hand admire nothing that we think impossible. Tho' the Probability of these Machines be of a very large extent, (since 'tis founded upon Divine Power) it is not without limitations. There are numerous Instances of allowable and probable Machines in the Epic Poems, where the Gods are no less Actors than the Men. But the less credible sort, such as
Metamorphoses,
&c. are far more rare.
This suggests a Reflection on the Method of rendring those Machines probable, which in their own nature are hardly so. Those which require only
Divine Probability,
should be so disengag'd from the Action, that one might substract them from it without destroying the Action. But those which are essential and necessary, should be grounded upon
Human Probability,
and not on the sole Power of God. Thus the Episodes of
Circe,
the
Syrens,
Polyphemus,
&c. are necessary to the Action of the
Odyssey,
and yet not humanly probable: Yet
Homer
has artificially reduc'd them to human Probability, by the Simplicity and Ignorance of the
Phaeacians,
before whom he causes those recitals to be made.
The next Question is, Where, and on what occasions Machines may be used? It is certain
Homer
and
Virgil
make use of them every where, and scarce suffer any Action to be perform'd without them.
Petronius
makes this a Precept:
Per ambages, deorumque ministeria
&c. The Gods are mention'd in the very
Proposition
of their Works, the
Invocation
is addrest to them, and the whole
Narration
is full of them. The Gods are the
Causes
of the Action, they form the
Intrigue,
and bring about the
Solution.
The precept of
Aristotle
and
Horace,
that the unravelling of the Plot should not proceed from a Miracle or the appearance of a God, has place only in Dramatic Poetry, not in the Epic. For it is plain that both in the Solution of the
Iliad
and
Odyssey
the Gods are concern'd: In the former, the Deities meet to appease the Anger of
Achilles
:
Iris
and
Mercury
are sent to that purpose, and
Minerva
eminently assists
Achilles
in the decisive combate with
Hector.
In the
Odyssey,
the same Goddess fights close by
Ulysses
against the Suitors, and concludes that Peace betwixt him and the
Ithacensians,
which compleats the Poem.
We may therefore determine, that a Machine is not an Invention to extricate the Poet out of any difficulty which embarrasses him: But that the Presence of a Divinity, and some Action surprizing and extraordinary, are inserted into almost all the parts of his work, in order to render it more Majestic and more Admirable. But this mixture ought to be so made, that the Machines might be retrench'd without taking any thing from the Action. At the same time it gives the Readers a lesson of Piety and Virtue; and teaches them, that the most brave and the most wise can do nothing, and attain nothing great and glorious, without the assistance of Heaven. Thus the Machinery crowns the whole work, and renders it at once,
Marvellous, Probable,
and
Moral.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.
The ARGUMENT.
Minerva
's Descent to
Ithaca.
The Poem opens within forty eight days of the arrival of
Ulysses
in his dominions. He had now remain'd seven years in the island of
Calypso,
when the Gods assembled in council proposed the method of his departure from thence, and his return to his native country. For this purpose it is concluded to send
Mercury
to
Calypso,
and
Pallas
immediately descends to
Ithaca.
She holds a conference with
Telemachus,
in the shape of
Mentes
King of the
Taphians
; in which she advises him to take a journey in quest of his Father
Ulysses,
to
Pylos
and
Sparta,
where
Nestor
and
Menelaus
yet reign'd: then after having visibly display'd her divinity, disappears. The suitors of
Penelope
make great entertainments, and riot in her palace till night.
Phemius
sings to them the return of the
Grecians,
till
Penelope
puts a stop to the song. Some words arise between the suitors and
Telemachus,
who summons the council to meet the day following.
W.K.
P.F.sc.
THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.
T HE Man, for Wisdom's various arts renown'd,
Long exercis'd in woes, oh Muse! resound.
Who, when his arms had wrought the destin'd fall
Of sacred
Troy,
and raz'd her heav'n-built wall,
Wand'ring from clime to clime, observant stray'd,
Their Manners noted, and their States survey'd.
On stormy seas unnumber'd toils he bore,
Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore:
Vain toils! their impious folly dar'd to prey
On Herds devoted to the God of Day;
The God vindictive doom'd them never more
(Ah men unbless'd!) to touch that natal shore.
Oh snatch some portion of these acts from fate,
Celestial Muse! and to our world relate.
Now at their native realms the
Greeks
arriv'd;
All who the Wars of ten long years surviv'd,
And 'scap'd the perils of the gulfy Main.
Ulysses,
sole of all the victor train,
An exile from his dear paternal coast,
Deplor'd his absent Queen, and Empire lost.
Calypso
in her caves constrain'd his stay,
With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay:
In vain—for now the circling years disclose
The day predestin'd to reward his woes.
At length his
Ithaca
is giv'n by Fate,
Where yet new labours his arrival wait;
At length their rage the hostile Pow'rs restrain,
All but the ruthless Monarch of the Main.
But now the God, remote, a heav'nly guest
In
Aethiopia
grac'd the genial feast,
(A race divided, whom with sloping rays
The rising and descending Sun surveys)
There on the world's extreamest verge rever'd,
With Hecatombs and pray'r in pomp prefer'd,
Distant he lay: while in the bright abodes
Of high
Olympus, Jove
conven'd the Gods:
Th'assembly thus the Sire supreme addrest;
Aegysthus
' fate revolving in his breast,
Whom young
Orestes
to the dreary coast
Of
Pluto
sent, a blood-polluted Ghost.
Perverse Mankind! whose Wills, created free,
Charge all their woes on absolute Decree;
All to the dooming Gods their guilt translate,
And Follies are miscall'd the crimes of Fate.
When to his lust
Aegysthus
gave the rein,
Did Fate, or we, th'adult'rous act constrain?
Did Fate, or we, when great
Atrides
dy'd,
Urge the bold traitor to the Regicide?
Hermes
I sent, while yet his soul remain'd
Sincere from royal blood, and faith profan'd;
To warn the wretch, that young
Orestes
grown
To manly years shou'd re-assert the throne.
Yet impotent of mind, and uncontrol'd,
He plung'd into the gulf which Heav'n foretold.
Here paus'd the God, and pensive thus replies
Minerva
graceful with her azure eyes.
O thou! from whom the whole creation springs,
The source of pow'r on earth deriv'd to Kings!
His death was equal to the direful deed;
So may the Man of blood be doom'd to bleed!
But grief and rage alternate wound my breast
For brave
Ulysses,
still by fate opprest.
Amid'st an Isle, around whose rocky shore
The forests murmur, and the surges roar,
The blameless heroe from his wish'd-for home
A Goddess guards in her enchanted dome.
(
Atlas
her sire, to whose far-piercing eye
The wonders of the Deep expanded lye;
Th'eternal columns which on earth he rears
End in the starry vault, and prop the sphears.)
By his fair daughter is the chief confin'd,
Who sooths to dear delight his anxious mind:
Successless all her soft caresses prove,
To banish from his breast his Country's love;
To see the smoke from his lov'd palace rise,
While the dear isle in distant prospect lyes,
With what contentment could he close his eyes?
And will Omnipotence neglect to save
The suffering virtue of the wise and brave?
Must he, whose altars on the
Phrygian
shore
With frequent rites, and pure, avow'd thy pow'r,
Be doom'd the worst of human ills to prove,
Unbless'd, abandon'd to the wrath of
Jove?
Daughter! what words have pass'd thy lips unweigh'd?
(Reply'd the Thund'rer to the Martial Maid)
Deem not unjustly by my doom opprest
Of humane race the wisest, and the best.
Neptune,
by pray'r repentant rarely won,
Afflicts the chief, t'avenge his Giant son
Whose visual orb
Ulysses
robb'd of light;
Great
Polypheme,
of more than mortal might!
Him young
Thoôsa
bore, (the bright increase
Of
Phorcys,
dreaded in the founds and seas:)
Whom
Neptune
ey'd with bloom of beauty blest,
And in his cave the yielding nymph comprest.
For this, the god constrains the
Greek
to roam,
A hopeless exile from his native home,
From death alone exempt—but cease to mourn;
Let all combine t'atchieve his wish'd return:
Neptune
aton'd, his wrath shall now refrain,
Or thwart the synod of the gods in vain.
Father and King ador'd!
Minerva
cry'd,
Since all who in th'
Olympian
bow'r reside
Now make the wand'ring
Greek
their public care,
Let
Hermes
to th'
Atlantic
isle repair;
Ogygia
Bid him, arriv'd in bright
Calypso
's court,
The Sanction of th' assembled pow'rs report:
That wise
Ulysses
to his native land
Must speed, obedient to their high command.
Mean time
Telemachus,
the blooming heir
Of sea-girt
Ithaca,
demands my care:
'Tis mine, to form his green, unpractis'd years,
In sage debates, surrounded with his Peers,
To save the state; and timely to restrain
The bold intrusion of the Suitor-train;
Who crowd his palace, and with lawless pow'r
His herds and flocks in feastful rites devour.
To distant
Sparta
and the spacious waste
Of sandy
Pyle,
the royal Youth shall haste.
There, warm with filial love, the cause enquire
That from his realm retards his god-like Sire:
Deliv'ring early to the voice of Fame
The promise of a great, immortal name.
She said: the sandals of caelestial mold
Fledg'd with Ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold,
Surround her feet; with these sublime she sails
Th' aerial space, and mounts the winged gales:
O'er earth and ocean wide prepar'd to soar,
Her dreaded arm a beamy jav'lin bore,
Pond'rous and vast; which when her fury burns
Proud Tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns.
From high
Olympus
prone her flight she bends,
And in the realm of
Ithaca
descends.
Her lineaments divine the grave disguise
Of
Mentes
' form conceal'd from human eyes:
(
Mentes,
the Monarch of the
Taphian
land)
A glitt'ring spear wav'd awful in her hand.
There in the portal plac'd, the heav'n-born maid
Enormous riot and mis-rule survey'd.
On hides of Beeves, before the palace gate,
(Sad spoils of luxury) the Suitors sate.
With rival art, and ardor in their mien,
At Chess they vie, to captivate the Queen,
Divining of their loves. Attending nigh,
A menial train the flowing bowl supply:
Others apart, the spacious hall prepare,
And form the costly feast with busy care.
There young
Telemachus,
his bloomy face
Glowing caelestial-sweet with godlike grace,
Amid the Circle shines: but hope and fear
(Painful vicissitude!) his bosom tear.
Now, imag'd in his mind, he sees restor'd
In peace and joy, the people's rightful Lord;
The proud Oppressors fly the vengeful sword.
While his fond soul these fancied triumphs swell'd,
The stranger Guest the royal Youth beheld.
Griev'd that a Visitant so long shou'd wait
Unmark'd, unhonour'd, at a Monarch's gate;
Instant he flew with hospitable haste,
And the new friend with courteous air embrac'd.
Stranger! whoe'er thou art, securely rest
Affianc'd in my faith, a friendly guest:
Approach the dome, the social banquet share,
And then the purpose of thy soul declare.
Thus affable and mild, the Prince precedes,
And to the dome th' unknown Caelestial leads.
The spear receiving from her hand, he plac'd
Against a column, fair with sculpture grac'd;
Where seemly rang'd in peaceful order stood
Ulysses
' Arms, now long disus'd to blood.
He led the Goddess to the sovereign seat,
Her feet supported with a stool of state;
(A purple carpet spread the pavement wide)
Then drew his seat, familiar, to her side:
Far from the Suitor-train, a brutal crowd,
With insolence, and wine, elate and loud;
Where the free guest, unnoted, might relate
If haply conscious, of his Father's fate.
The golden ew'r a maid obsequious brings,
Replenish'd from the cool, translucent springs;
With copious water the bright vase supplies
A silver Laver, of capacious size:
They wash. The tables in fair order spread,
They heap the glitt'ring Canisters with bread:
Viands of various kinds allure the taste,
Of choicest sort and savour, rich repast!
Delicious wines th' attending herald brought;
The gold gave lustre to the purple draught.
Lur'd with the vapour of the fragrant feast,
In rush'd the Suitors with voracious haste:
Marshal'd in order due, to each a Sew'r
Presents, to bathe his hands, a radiant ew'r.
Luxurious then they feast. Observant round
Gay, stripling youths the brimming goblets crown'd.
The rage of hunger quell'd, they all advance,
And form to measur'd airs the mazy dance:
To
Phemius
was consign'd the chorded Lyre,
Whose hand reluctant touch'd the warbling wire:
Phemius,
whose voice divine cou'd sweetest sing
High strains, responsive to the vocal string.
Mean while, in whispers to his heav'nly guest
His indignation thus the Prince exprest.
Indulge my rising grief, whilst these (my friend)
With song and dance the pompous revel end.
Light is the dance, and doubly sweet the lays,
When, for the dear delight, another pays.
His
treasur'd stores these Cormorants consume,
Whose bones, defrauded of a regal tomb
And common turf, lie naked on the plain,
Or doom'd to welter in the whelming main.
Shou'd he return, that troop so blithe and bold,
With purple robes inwrought, and stiff with gold,
Precipitant in fear, wou'd wing their flight,
And curse their cumbrous pride's unwieldy weight.
But ah I dream!—th' appointed hour is fled,
And Hope, too long with vain delusion fed,
Deaf to the rumour of fallacious fame,
Gives to the roll of death his glorious name!
With venial freedom let me now demand
Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land:
Sincere, from whence began thy course, recite,
And to what ship I owe the friendly freight?
Now first to me this visit dost thou daign,
Or number'd in my Father's social train?
All who deserv'd his choice, he made his own,
And curious much to know, he far was known.
My birth I boast (the blue-ey'd Virgin cries)
From great
Anchialus,
renown'd and wise:
Mentes
my name; I rule the
Taphian
race,
Whose bounds the deep circumfluent waves embrace.
A duteous people, and industrious Isle,
To naval arts inur'd, and stormy toil.
Freighted with Iron from my native land,
I steer my voyage to the
Brutian
strand;
To gain by commerce, for the labour'd mass,
A just proportion of refulgent Brass.
Far from your Capital my ship resides
At
Reithrus,
and secure at anchor rides;
Where waving groves on airy
Neion
grow,
Supremely tall, and shade the deeps below.
Thence to re-visit your imperial dome,
An old hereditary Guest I come:
Your Father's friend.
Laertes
can relate
Our faith unspotted, and its early date;
Who prest with heart-corroding grief and years,
To the gay Court a rural shed prefers,
Where sole of all his train, a Matron sage
Supports with homely food his drooping age,
With feeble steps from marshalling his Vines
Returning sad, when toilsome day declines.
With friendly speed, induc'd by erring fame,
To hail
Ulysses
' safe return I came:
But still the frown of some caelestial pow'r
With envious joy retards the blissful hour.
Let not your soul be sunk in sad despair;
He lives, he breathes this heav'nly vital air,
Among a savage race, whose shelfy bounds
With ceaseless roar the foaming deep surrounds.
The thoughts which rowl within my ravish'd breast,
To me, no Seer, th' inspiring Gods suggest;
Nor skill'd, nor studious, with prophetic eye
To judge the winged Omens of the sky.
Yet hear this certain speech, nor deem it vain;
Though Adamantine bonds the chief restrain,
The dire restraint his wisdom will defeat,
And soon restore him to his regal seat.
But, gen'rous youth! sincere and free declare,
Are you, of manly growth, his royal heir?
For sure
Ulysses
in your look appears,
The same his features, if the same his years.
Such was that face, on which I dwelt with joy
Ere
Greece
assembled stem'd the tydes to
Troy
;
But parting then for that detested shore,
Our eyes, unhappy! never greeted more.
To prove a genuine birth (the Prince replies)
On Female truth assenting faith relies;
Thus manifest of right, I build my claim
Sure-founded on a fair Maternal fame,
Ulysses
' Son: but happier he, whom fate
Hath plac'd beneath the storms which toss the great!
Happier the son, whose hoary sire is blest
With humble affluence, and domestic rest!
Happier than I, to future empire born,
But doom'd a Father's wretched fate to mourn!
To whom, with aspect mild, the Guest divine.
Oh true descendent of a scepter'd line!
The Gods, a glorious fate from anguish free
To chaste
Penelope
's increase decree.
But say, yon' jovial Troop so gaily drest,
Is this a bridal, or a friendly feast?
Or from their deed I rightlier may divine,
Unseemly flown with insolence and wine?
Unwelcome revellers, whose lawless joy
Pains the sage ear, and hurts the sober eye.
Magnificence of old, (the Prince reply'd,)
Beneath our roof with Virtue cou'd reside;
Unblam'd abundance crown'd the royal board,
What time this dome rever'd her prudent Lord;
Who now (so heav'n decrees) is doom'd to mourn,
Bitter constraint! erroneous and forlorn.
Better the Chief, on
Ilion
's hostile plain
Had fall'n surrounded with his warlike train;
Or safe return'd, the race of glory past,
New to his friends embrace, had breath'd his last!
Then grateful
Greece
with streaming eyes wou'd raise
Historic Marbles, to record his praise;
His praise, eternal on the faithful stone,
Had with transmissive honour grac'd his Son.
Now snatch'd by Harpies to the dreary coast,
Sunk is the Hero, and his glory lost!
Vanish'd at once! unheard of, and unknown!
And I, his Heir in misery alone.
Nor for a dear, lost Father only flow
The filial tears, but woe succeeds to woe:
To tempt the spouseless Queen with am'rous wiles,
Resort the Nobles from the neighb'ring Isles;
From
Samos,
circled with th'
Iönian
main,
Dulichium,
and
Zacynthus
' sylvan reign:
Ev'n with presumptuous hope her bed t'ascend,
The Lords of
Ithaca
their right pretend.
She seems attentive to their pleaded vows,
Her heart detesting what her ear allows.
They, vain expectants of the bridal hour,
My stores in riotous expence devour,
In feast and dance the mirthful months employ,
And meditate my doom, to crown their joy.
With tender pity touch'd, the Goddess cry'd:
Soon may kind heav'n a sure relief provide,
Soon may your Sire discharge the vengeance due,
And all your wrongs the proud oppressors rue!
Oh! in that portal shou'd the Chief appear,
Each hand tremendous with a brazen spear,
In radiant Panoply his limbs incas'd;
(For so of old my father's court he grac'd,
When social mirth unbent his serious soul,
O'er the full banquet, and the sprightly bowl)
He then from
Ephyré,
the fair domain
Of
Ilus
sprung from
Jason
's royal strain,
Measur'd a length of seas, a toilsome length, in vain.
For voyaging to learn the direful art
To taint with deadly drugs the barbed dart;
Observant of the Gods, and sternly just,
Ilus
refus'd t'impart the baneful trust:
With friendlier zeal my father's soul was fir'd,
The drugs he knew, and gave the boon desir'd.
Appear'd he now with such heroic port,
As then conspicuous at the
Taphian
court;
Soon shou'd yon' boasters cease their haughty strife,
Or each atone his guilty love with life.
But of his wish'd return the care resign;
Be future vengeance to the pow'rs divine.
My sentence hear: With stern distaste avow'd,
To their own districts drive the Suitor-crowd:
When next the morning warms the purple east,
Convoke the Peerage, and the Gods attest;
The sorrows of your inmost soul relate;
And form sure plans to save the sinking state.
Shou'd second love a pleasing flame inspire,
And the chaste Queen connubial rites require;
Dismiss'd with honour let her hence repair
To great
Icarius,
whose paternal care
Will guide her passion, and reward the choice
With wealthy dow'r, and bridal gifts of price.
Then let this dictate of my love prevail:
Instant, to foreign realms prepare to sail,
To learn your Father's fortunes: Fame may prove
Or omen'd Voice (the messenger of
Jove
)
Propitious to the search. Direct your toil
Thro' the wide Ocean first to sandy
Pyle,
Of
Nestor,
hoary Sage, his doom demand;
Thence speed your voyage to the
Spartan
strand,
For young
Atrides
to th'
Achaian
coast
Arriv'd the last of all the victor host.
If yet
Ulysses
views the light, forbear,
'Till the fleet hours restore the circling year.
But if his soul hath wing'd the destin'd flight,
Inhabitant of deep disastrous Night,
Homeward with pious speed repass the main,
To the pale Shade funereal rites ordain,
Plant the fair Column o'er the vacant grave,
A Hero's honours let the Hero have.
With decent grief the royal dead deplor'd,
For the chaste Queen select an equal Lord.
Then let revenge your daring mind employ,
By fraud or force the Suitor-train destroy,
And starting into manhood, scorn the boy.
Hast thou not heard how young
Orestes
fir'd
With great revenge, immortal praise acquir'd?
His virgin sword
Aegysthus
' veins imbru'd;
The murd'rer fell, and blood aton'd for blood.
O greatly bless'd with ev'ry blooming grace!
With equal steps the paths of glory trace;
Join to that royal youth's, your rival name,
And shine eternal in the sphere of fame—
But my Associates now my stay deplore,
Impatient on the hoarse-resounding shore.
Thou, heedful of advice, secure proceed;
My praise the precept is, be thine the deed.
The counsel of my friend (the Youth rejoin'd)
Imprints conviction on my grateful mind.
So Fathers speak (persuasive speech and mild!)
Their sage experience to the fav'rite child.
But since to part, for sweet refection due
The genial viands let my train renew;
And the rich pledge of plighted faith receive,
Worthy the heir of
Ithaca
to give.
Defer the promis'd boon, (the Goddess cries,
Celestial azure brightning in her eyes)
And let me now regain the
Reithrian
port:
From
Temesé
return'd, your royal court
I shall revisit; and that pledge receive,
And gifts, memorial of our friendship, leave.
Abrupt, with eagle-speed she cut the sky;
Instant invisible to mortal eye.
Then first he recognis'd th' Aetherial guest;
Wonder and joy alternate fire his breast:
Heroic thoughts infus'd his heart dilate,
Revolving much his father's doubtful fate:
At length compos'd, he join'd the suitor-throng,
Hush'd in attention to the warbled song.
His tender theme the charming Lyrist chose
Minerva
's anger, and the direful woes
Which voyaging from
Troy
the Victors bore,
While storms vindictive intercept the shore.
The shrilling airs the vaulted roof rebounds,
Reflecting to the Queen the silver sounds.
With grief renew'd the weeping fair descends;
Their sovereign's step a virgin train attends:
A veil of richest texture wrought, she wears,
And silent, to the joyous hall repairs.
There from the portal, with her mild command
Thus gently checks the minstrel's tuneful hand.
Phemius!
let acts of Gods, and Heroes old,
What ancient bards in hall and bow'r have told,
Attemper'd to the Lyre, your voice employ;
Such the pleas'd ear will drink with silent joy.
But oh! forbear that dear, disastrous name,
To sorrow sacred, and secure of fame:
My bleeding bosom sickens at the sound,
And ev'ry piercing note inflicts a wound.
Why, dearest object of my duteous love,
(Reply'd the Prince) will you the Bard reprove?
Oft,
Jove
's aetherial rays (resistless fire)
The chanter's soul and raptur'd song inspire;
Instinct divine! nor blame severe his choice,
Warbling the
Grecian
woes with harp and voice:
For novel lays attract our ravish'd ears;
But old, the mind with inattention hears.
Patient permit the sadly-pleasing strain;
Familiar now with grief, your tears refrain,
And in the publick woe forget your own;
You weep not for a perish'd Lord, alone.
What
Greeks,
now wand'ring in the
Stygian
gloom,
With your
Ulysses
shar'd an equal doom!
Your widow'd hours, apart, with female toil
And various labours of the loom, beguile;
There rule, from palace-cares remote and free,
That care to man belongs, and most to me.
Mature beyond his years the Queen admires
His sage reply, and with her train retires.
Then swelling sorrows burst their former bounds,
With echoing grief afresh the dome resounds;
'Till
Pallas,
piteous of her plaintive cries,
In slumber clos'd her silver-streaming eyes.
Mean-time rekindl'd at the royal charms,
Tumultuous love each beating bosom warms;
Intemp'rate rage a wordy war began;
But bold
Telemachus
assum'd the man.
Instant (he cry'd) your female discord end,
Ye deedless boasters! and the song attend:
Obey that sweet compulsion, nor profane
With dissonance, the smooth melodious strain.
Pacific now prolong the jovial feast;
But when the dawn reveals the rosy East,
I, to the Peers assembled, shall propose
The firm resolve I here in few disclose.
No longer live the cankers of my court;
All to your several states with speed resort;
Waste in wild riot what your land allows,
There ply the early feast, and late carouse.
But if, to honour lost, 'tis still decreed
For you my bowl shall flow, my flocks shall bleed,
Judge and revenge my right, impartial
Jove!
By him, and all th' immortal thrones above,
(A sacred oath) each proud oppressor slain
Shall with inglorious gore this marble stain.
Aw'd by the Prince, thus haughty, bold, and young,
Rage gnaw'd the lip, and wonder chain'd the tongue.
Silence at length the gay
Antinous
broke,
Constrain'd a smile, and thus ambiguous spoke.
What God to your untutor'd youth affords
This headlong torrent of amazing words?
May
Jove
delay thy reign, and cumber late
So bright a genius with the toils of state!
Those toils (
Telemachus
serene replies)
Have charms, with all their weight, t'allure the wife.
Fast by the Throne obsequious
Fame
resides,
And
Wealth
incessant rolls her golden tides.
Nor let
Antinous
rage, if strong desire
Of wealth and fame a youthful bosom fire:
Elect by
Jove
his Delegate of sway,
With joyous pride the summons I'd obey.
Whene'er
Ulysses
roams the realm of Night,
Shou'd factious pow'r dispute my lineal right,
Some other
Greeks
a fairer claim may plead;
To your pretence their title wou'd precede.
At least, the sceptre lost, I still shou'd reign
Sole o'er my vassals, and domestic train.
To this
Eurymachus.
To heav'n alone
Refer the choice to fill the vacant Throne.
Your patrimonial stores in peace possess;
Undoubted all your filial claim confess:
Your private right shou'd impious pow'r invade,
The peers of
Ithaca
wou'd arm in aid.
But say, that Stranger-guest who late withdrew,
What, and from whence? his name and lineage shew.
His grave demeanour, and majestic grace
Speak him descended of no vulgar race:
Did he some loan of antient right require,
Or came fore-runner of your scepter'd Sire?
Oh son of
Polybus!
the Prince replies,
No more my Sire will glad these longing eyes:
The Queen's fond hope inventive rumour cheers,
Or vain diviners' dreams divert her fears.
That stranger-guest the
Taphian
realm obeys,
A realm defended with incircling seas:
Mentes,
an ever-honour'd name, of old
High in
Ulysses
' social list inroll'd.
Thus he, tho' conscious of th' aetherial Guest,
Answer'd evasive of the fly request.
Mean time the Lyre rejoins the sprightly lay;
Love-dittied airs, and dance, conclude the day.
But when the Star of Eve, with golden light
Adorn'd the matron-brow of fable Night;
The mirthful train dispersing quit the court,
And to their several domes to Rest resort.
A tow'ring structure to the palace join'd;
To this his steps the thoughtful Prince inclin'd;
In his pavilion there to sleep repairs;
The lighted torch the sage
Euryclea
bears.
(Daughter of
Ops,
the just
Pisenor
's son,
For twenty beeves by great
Laertes
won;
In rosy prime with charms attractive grac'd,
Honour'd by him, a gentle Lord and chaste,
With deer esteem: too wise, with jealous strife
To taint the joys of sweet, connubial life.
Sole with
Telemachus
her service ends,
A child she nurs'd him, and a man attends)
Whilst to his couch himself the Prince addrest,
The duteous dame receiv'd the purple vest:
The purple vest with decent care dispos'd,
The silver ring she pull'd, the door re-clos'd;
The bolt, obedient to the silken cord,
To the strong staple's inmost depth restor'd,
Secur'd the valves. There, wrap'd in silent shade,
Pensive, the rules the Goddess gave, he weigh'd;
Stretch'd on the downy fleece, no rest he knows,
And in his raptur'd soul the Vision glows.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE FIRST BOOK.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE FIRST BOOK.
W E shall proceed in the same method thro' the course of these Annotations upon the
Odyssey,
as in those upon the
Iliad
; considering
Homer
chiefly as a Poet, endeavouring to make his beauties
understood,
and not to praise without a reason given. It is equally an extreme, on the one hand to think
Homer
has no human defects; and on the other to dwell so much upon those defects, as to depreciate his beauties. The greater part of Criticks form a general character, from the observation of particular errors, taken in their own oblique or imperfect views; which is as unjust, as to make a judgment of the beauty of a man's body from the shadow it happens to cast, in such or such a position. To convince the Reader of this intended impartiality, we readily allow the
Odyssey
to be inferior to the
Iliad
in many respects. It has not that sublimity of spirit, or that enthusiasm of poetry; but then it must be allow'd, if it be less noble, it is more instructive: The other abounds with more Heroism, this with more Morality. The
Iliad
gives us a draught of Gods and Heroes, of discord, of contentions, and scenes of slaughter; the
Odyssey
sets before us a scene more amiable, the landschapes of nature, the pleasures of private life, the duties of every station, the hospitality of ancient times; a less busy, but more agreeable portrait. The
Iliad
concludes with the ruin, the
Odyssey
with the happiness of a nation.
Horace
was of the same opinion, as is evident from the epistle to
Lollius.
Seditione, dolis, scelere, libidine, & ira,
Iliacos
intra muros peccatur & extra.
Rursus, quid virtus & quid sapientia possit,
Utile proposuit nobis exemplar
Ulyssem.
I.
VERSE 1.
The Man, for Wisdom,
&c.]
Homer
opens his Poem with the utmost simplicity and modesty; he continually grows upon the reader,
Non fumum ex fulgore, sed ex fumo dare lucem
Cogitat, ut speciosa dehinc miracula promat.
Cicero
lays this down as a rule for the Orator,
principia verecunda, non elatis intensa verbis
; and
Horace
for the Poet,
Nec sic incipies, &c.
He proposes the beginning of the
Odyssey
as a pattern for all future poems, and has translated them in his Art of poetry.
Dic mihi, Musa, virum, captae post tempora Trojae,
Qui mores hominum multorum vidit, & urbes.
May I be forgiven the arrogance, if I should offer a criticism upon this translation? The
sufferings
of
Ulysses
are the subject of the whole
Odyssey,
and yet
Horace
has omitted the mention of those sufferings:
. There is another word also which seems essential, that is,
, this is likewise omitted. For the sufferings of
Ulysses,
and the wisdom by which he extricated himself from them, enter into the very design of the Poem. But indeed in another place he has plainly had regard to all these circumstances,
Qui
domitor Trojae,
multorum
providus
urbes
Et mores hominum inspexit, latumque per aequor
Dum
sibi
, dum
sociis
, reditum parat,
aspera multa
Pertulit—
Epist. ad Loll.
I must also refute a criticism of
Rapin,
who will have it that the word
includes a character of craft and low cunning, unworthy of a brave spirit: But
Eustathius
admirably vindicates the Poet in this respect, he shews us that
no where in
Homer
signifies (
) or Morals; and that it implies a man who could accommodate himself to every condition of life; one who in the worst estate had still a reserve to free himself from it; it therefore, says he, signifies a man that thro' experience has learn'd wisdom. I have likewise the authority of
Horace
for this sense, in the above-cited passage,
Qui domitor Trojae multorum
providus
urbes.
I take
providus
in this place to signify not only a man who noted the manners of various nations with care, but also one who in calamity could foresee methods to extricate himself from it. And surely nothing can be more unjust than what
Rapin
objects against
Ulysses,
in employing his wisdom only in his own preservation, while all his companions were lost:
Homer
himself sufficiently refutes this objection, and directly tells us, that he employed his wisdom in the care of their safety, but that they thro' their folly defeated his wisdom. The words of
Homer,
says
Eustathius,
shew that a wise man neglects not his friends in adversity. But, says
Rapin,
what could oblige
Homer
to begin with so dishonourable an action, and place the greatest weakness of his Heroe in the very frontispiece of his Poem? and invoke his Muse to sing the man who with difficulty saved himself, and suffer'd his companions to be destroy'd? There had been some weight in this objection, if
Ulysses
had saved his own, with the loss of their lives; but I cannot see any dishonour, in his preserving himself by wisdom, when they destroy'd themselves by folly: It was chiefly by storms that they perish'd; it can be no imputation to his character, not to be able to restrain the effects of a tempest: he did all that a wise man cou'd do, he gave them such admonitions upon every emergency, that if they had pursued them, they had been preserved as well as
Ulysses.
II.
VERSE I.
For Wisdom's various arts renown'd.
]
Bossu
's observation in relation to this Epithet
, given to
Ulysses,
is worth transcribing. The Fable of the
Odyssey
(says he) is wholly for the conduct and policy of a State: Therefore the quality it requires is
Wisdom,
but this virtue is of too large an extent for the simplicity which a just and precise
character
requires; it is therefore requisite it should be limited. The great art of Kings is the mystery of
Dissimulation.
'Tis well known, that
Lewis
the eleventh, for the instruction of his Son, reduc'd all the
Latin language
to these words only,
viz. Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare.
'Twas likewise by this practice that
Saul
began his reign, when he was first elected and as yet full of the spirit of God. The first thing we read of him in holy Writ is,
Ille vero dissimulabat se audire.
Reg. lib. 1.
that he made as if he did not hear the words which seditious people spoke against him.
This then is the
character
which the
Greek
Poet gives his
Ulysses
in the Proposition of his Poem, he calls him
; to denote this prudent dissimulation, which disguised him so many ways, and put him upon taking so many shapes.
Without mentioning any thing of
Circe,
who detain'd him with her a whole year, and who was famous for the transformations she made of all sorts of persons; the reader finds him at first with
Calypso
the daughter of wise
Atlas,
who bore up the vast pillars that reach'd from Earth to Heaven, and whose knowledge penetrated into the depths of the unfathomable Ocean: that is to say, who was ignorant of nothing in Heaven, Earth, or Sea. And as the first product and principal part of so high, so solid, and so profound a knowledge was to know how to conceal ones self; this wise man call'd his daughter by a name that signified a
secret.
The Poet makes his Heroe, whom he designed for a Politician, to stay seven whole years with this Nymph. She taught him so well, that afterwards he lost no opportunity of putting her lessons in practice: for he does nothing without a disguise. At his parting from
Ogygia
he is cast upon the Isle of
Phaeaca:
as kind as his reception was, yet he stays 'till the night before he went off ere he wou'd discover himself. From thence he goes to
Ithaca:
the first adventure that happen'd to him there was with
Minerva,
the most prudent among the Deities, as
Ulysses
was the most prudent among men. She says so expressly in that very passage. Nor did they fail to disguise themselves.
Minerva
takes upon her the shape of a shepherd, and
Ulysses
tells her he was oblig'd to fly from
Crete,
because he had murder'd the son of King
Idomeneus.
The Goddess discovers her self first, and commends him particularly, because these artifices were so easie and natural to him, that they seem'd to be born with him. Afterwards the Heroe under the form of a beggar deceives first of all
Eumeus,
then his son, and last of all his wife, and every body else, till he found an opportunity of punishing his Enemies, to whom he discover'd not himself 'till he kill'd them, namely on the last night. After his discovering himself in the Palace, he goes the next day to deceive his father, appearing at first under a borrow'd name; before he wou'd give him joy of his return. Thus he takes upon him all manner of shapes, and dissembles to the very last. But the Poet joins to this character a valour and a constancy which render him invincible in the most daring and desperate adventures
III.
VERSE 3.
Who when his arms had wrought the destin'd fall
Of sacred
Troy—
Whence is it that
Ulysses
is said to have overthrown
Troy?
and not
Achilles,
who was of more remarkable courage than
Ulysses? Eustathius
tells us, that the destruction of
Troy
ought to be ascribed chiefly to
Ulysses,
as he not only took away the
Palladium,
but was the inventor of the stratagem of the wooden horse, by which that city was conquer'd.
Virgil
in his second book of the
Aeneis
gives a noble description of its destruction, by which we find that
Ulysses
was not only the contriver of its ruin, but bore a great share in the actions of the night in which that City was overturn'd.
IV.
VERSE 9.
Vain toils! their impious folly,
&c.]
By this single trait,
Homer
marks an essential difference between the
Iliad
and the
Odyssey
: namely, that in the former Poem the people perish'd by the folly of their Kings:
Quicquid delirunt reges, plectuntur Achivi.
In this, the people perish by their own folly, while their Prince omits nothing to procure their felicity. A plain reason why the
Odyssey
is more calculated for the People, than the
Iliad.
Dacier.
V.
VERSE 13.
Oh snatch some portion of these acts from fate.
]
It may be ask'd why the Poet invokes the Muse to recount only Part of the sufferings of
Ulysses?
and why those words,
To Us also,
are inserted? To the first it may be answer'd, that an heroic Poem dwells chiefly upon incidents of importance, and passes over every thing that does not contribute to raise our idea of the Heroe, or to the main design of the Poem: To the other
Eustathius
answers several ways; either, says he, the word
is to be taken as an expletive, as it is in a thousand places in
Homer
; or it means that this is a subject so considerable, that it will be a theme to many Poets; or that being a true History it had spread over many nations of the world, and that
Homer
himself received the story of the Poem from
Aegypt
; and then the meaning will be,
"Sing, oh Muse, to the
Greeks
as well as to other nations, the sufferings of
Ulysses.
"
I should prefer the first as being the most natural: the rest seem forced, and consequently improper for the opening of a Poem, where the utmost plainness is necessary; especially, if we consider that
Ulysses
was a
Grecian,
and it is not probable that the
Grecians
should be the least acquainted with the story, or the latest to celebrate the actions, of a
Grecian.
VI.
VERSE 15.
Now at their native realms the
Greeks
arriv'd.
]
It is necessary for the better understanding of the Poem, to fix the period of Time from which it takes its beginning:
Homer,
as
Eustathius
observes, does not begin with the wandrings of
Ulysses,
he steps at once into the latter end of his actions, and leaves the preceding story to be told by way of narration. Thus in his
Iliad,
he dates his Poem from the anger of
Achilles,
which happen'd almost at the conclusion of the
Trojan
war. From hence
Horace
drew his observation in his
Arte Poet.
Semper ad eventum festinat; & in medias res,
Non secus ac notas, auditorem rapit.
There are but forty eight days from the departure of
Ulysses
from
Calypso,
to his discovery in
Ithaca
; he had been one year with
Circe,
and seven with
Calypso,
when the Gods dispatched
Mercury
to that Goddess; from which point of Time we are to date the
Odyssey.
This observation gives a reason why the Poet invokes the Muse to recount the wandrings of this Heroe in part only; for
Ulysses,
as appears from the beginning of the ninth book, after he left the shores of
Troy,
was driven to
Ismarus
of the
Ciconians.
An Historian must have begun from the fall of
Troy,
and related his wandrings with truth and order; for History is chiefly for instruction: But a Poet takes another method, and disposes every circumstance arbitrarily; he chuses or rejects, as suits best with his principal design, and in such a manner as to give at once delight and instruction.
VII.
VERSE 21.
Calypso
in her Cave constrain'd his stay.
]
To the Remark before cited of
Bossu,
upon the abode of
Ulysses
with
Calypso,
may be added this of the Abbè
Fraguier
: that his residing seven years in the caves of
Calypso,
(the Goddess of Secrecy) may only be meant that he remain'd so long hid from the knowledge and enquiry of all men; or that whatever befel him in all that time was lost to History, or made no part in the Poem.
VIII.
VERSE 28.
All but the ruthless Monarch of the Main.
]
It may be ask'd why
Neptune
is thus enraged against
Ulysses? Homer
himself tells us, it was because that Heroe had put out the eye of his son
Cyclops.
But if we take
Neptune
by way of Allegory for the Ocean, the passage implies, that the sufferings of
Ulysses
were chiefly by sea; and therefore Poetry, which adds a grandeur to the meanest circumstance, introduces the God of it as his greatest enemy.
Eustathius.
IX.
VERSE 30.
In
Aethiopia
, &c.
]
Strabo
in his first book delivers his opinion, that
"the ancient
Grecians
included all those people who lived upon the southern Ocean, from east to west, in the general name of
Aethiopians,
and that it was not confined to those only who lay south of
Aegypt.
"
Ptolomy
says, that
"under the
Zodiac,
from east to west, inhabit the
Aethiopians,
black of colour."
And elsewhere the same Geographer divides
Aethiopia
into the eastern and the western. These eastern and western
Aethiopians
were separated by the
Arabian
or
Aegyptian
Gulf; which tho' never mention'd by
Homer,
as
Aristarchus
remark'd, yet it is not probable (says
Strabo
) that he should be ignorant of it, it being but a thousand stadia distant from the
Mediterranean,
when he knew the
Aegyptian Thebes,
which was four times as far off.
Strab. Plin. Spondan.
I will not repeat what was observ'd upon the Gods being gone to the
Aethiopians,
in the first book of the
Iliad
; 'tis sufficient in general to observe, that the
Aethiopians
were a people very religious towards the Gods, and that they held a pompous feast twelve days annually to their honour; and in particular, that the Poet very judiciously makes use of this solemnity to remove
Neptune
out of the way, who was the enemy of
Ulysses,
that he may with the greater security bring off his Heroe from
Calypso
's Island.
Eustathius.
X.
VERSE 45.
Aegysthus.
]
It is difficult to find a reason why, in the original,
Jupiter
shou'd give such an honourable appellation to
Aegysthus,
as
,
unblameable,
who had dishonoured the bed of
Agamemnon,
and taken his life away; especially in that very instant when he condemns the fact with so great solemnity:
Eustathius
says, that
Homer,
an enemy to censure and invective, introduces that God as having respect only to his good qualities, and commending him for his general character; and adds that it had been an indecency in the Poet to have given countenance to that base custom by the authority of
Jupiter. Dacier
is not satisfy'd with this reason, and tells us, that
Homer
gives
Aegysthus
this title, to vindicate
Jupiter
from the imputation of his crimes: He gives us to understand that Heaven is not the cause of man's failings; that he is by Creation able to act virtuously, and that it is thro' his own misconduct that he deviates into evil; and therefore the meaning is this;
"
Jupiter
calling to mind
Aegysthus,
that
Aegysthus
whom he had created wise and virtuous, and made capable to sustain that character."
And this agrees admirably with the beginning of the speech of
Jupiter,
who there vindicates his own Divinity.
But if this shou'd seem too refin'd, it may be sufficient to take the word in that good sense which
Aegysthus
might have deserved for many good qualities: Thus
Achilles
is call'd the
swift of foot,
even while he stands, or sleeps; the first being his general character. It may be further confirm'd by a passage something resembling it in the holy Scriptures: The
Aegyptian
Midwives were guilty of a lye to
Pharaoh,
and yet God pardons it, and blesses them: He blesses them not because they lyed, but because they preserv'd the children of the
Israelites.
XI.
VERSE 41.
Jupiter
's speech.
]
The solemnity and sententiousness of this speech is taken notice of by
Eustathius
; and surely Poetry must be highly valuable, when it delivers such excellent instructions. It contain'd the whole of religion amongst the antients; and made Philosophy more agreeable. This passage is an instance of it, a passage worthy of a Christian; it shews us that the Supreme Being is sovereignly good; that he rewards the just, and punishes the unjust; and that the folly of man, and not the decree of Heaven, is the cause of human calamity.
XII.
VERSE 49.
Hermes
I sent,
&c.]
It would be endless to observe every moral passage in the
Odyssey,
the whole of it being but one lesson of Morality. But surely it must be a pleasure to the Reader to learn what notions the antients had of a Deity, from the oldest book extant, except the book of
Moses.
Jupiter
here declares that he never fails to warn mankind from evil, and that he had sent by
Mercury
for this purpose to
Aegysthus.
It may be ask'd what is this
Mercury
whom
Jupiter
sends? It is the light of Nature, which Heaven implants in the breast of every man: and which, as
Cicero
says, is not only more ancient than the world, but co-eval with the Master of the world himself. He writes to this effect.
There was from the beginning such a thing as Reason, a direct emanation from Nature it self, which prompted to good, and averted from evil. A Reason which did not then become a law, when it was first reduced to writing, but was so even from the moment it existed, and it existed from ever, of an equal date with the divine Intelligence: It is the true and primordial Law, proper to command and to forbid, it is the Reason of the great
Jupiter.
That Reason of the supreme Being, is here call'd
Mercury
; that Reason flowing from God, which is constantly dictating to the most corrupted hearts,
this is good,
or,
this is evil.
Hence arose an ancient Proverb, recorded by
Simplicius, Reason is a
Mercury
to all men.
Epictetus [lib. 3. Arrian.] says, Apollo
knew that
Laius
would not obey his Oracle.
Apollo
nevertheless did not neglect to prophecy to
Laius
those evils that threaten'd him. The goodness of the Divinity never fails to advertise mankind; that source of truth is ever open and free: but men are ever incredulous, disobedient and rebellious.
Dacier.
XIII.
VERSE 57.
Minerva
's Speech.
]
It may be ask'd what relation
Ulysses
has to
Aegysthus,
that the mention of the one should immediately give occasion for the remembrance of the other? and it may appear unnatural in the Poet to give rise to his Poem by so unexpected a transition from
Aegysthus
to
Ulysses. Eustathius
vindicates
Homer,
by shewing that it is not only beautiful but natural, to take rise from what offers it self to our immediate observation. What can be more natural, when
Jupiter
is relating how he punishes the wicked, than for Wisdom or
Minerva
to suggest, that the good ought to be rewarded? There is no forced introduction; no artful preparation, but the whole arises from the occasion, which is a great beauty.
Eustathius.
XIV.
VERSE 63.
Amidst an Isle,
&c.]
There was, according to true History, such an Island of
Calypso,
of which
Strabo
writes; that
Solon
gives an account of the Island
Atlantis
bordering upon
Aegypt,
and that he went thither to make enquiry, and learn'd that an Island was once there, but by time was vanished.
Eustathius.
XV.
VERSE 67.
Atlas
her Sire, to whose far-piercing eye
The wonders of the Deep expanded lie:
Th' eternal Columns which on earth he rears
End in the starry vault, and prop the Spheres.
]
Atlas
is here said to understand all the depths of the Sea: but the Epithet
apply'd to him, has two different significations. It implies either,
one whose thoughts are full of terrible and dismal things,
or,
one who has infinite knowledge and unbounded views,
and 'tis doubtful which of them
Homer
means. To reconcile both, may we not think our Author had heard something of the ancient tradition which makes
Atlas
the same person with
Enoch,
and represents him as a great Astronomer, who prophecy'd of the universal deluge, and exhorted mankind to repentance? Therefore he nam'd his son
Methuselah,
to show that after his death the waters shou'd overspread the face of the earth. His continual lamentations on this occasion caus'd him to be call'd the
Weeper,
for the world is always an enemy to melancholy predictions. Thus
Homer
upon the credit of this Tradition might very well call
Atlas, one whose thoughts ran upon dismal things,
or
one whose views and cares were vastly extended.
I insist no otherwise upon this but as a conjecture, yet it is further strengthen'd by what follows in the next lines:
That
Atlas
sustains those Columns which being fixed upon the earth support the Heavens.
This is generally interpreted of his great skill in Astronomy and Geography. But may not the reason be more particular? Since
Atlas
or
Enoch
had prophecy'd of the Deluge, and since that prediction was looked upon as the effect of his skill in Astronomy; might it not be said he knew the abysses of the Sea, and sustain'd the pillars of Heaven, to express that he knew how the fountains of the deep and the waters above the Heavens shou'd unite to drown the earth?
As to the image of the
pillars of Heaven,
it is frequent in the sacred books, and used to express the height of vast mountains. (
Pindar
calls
Aetna
the
:) and there might probably be something more particular that furnished
Homer
with this idea; I mean the pillars of
Hercules,
well-known in his time, and neighbouring to the mountain he describes.
Dacier.
See the description of this mountain in the 4th book of
Virgil,
where the same image is preserv'd without any hint of allegory: As indeed it is no more than a poetical manner of expressing the
great height
and
extensive prospect
of the mountain.
XVI.
VERSE 75.
To see the smoke from his lov'd Palace rise.
]
There is an agreeable tenderness in this Image, and nothing can better paint the ardent desire a man naturally has to review his native country after a long absence. This is still stronger than that which
Cicero
extols in several places of his works, that
Ulysses
preferr'd the sight of
Ithaca
to the Immortality proffer'd him by
Calypso.
He here desires to purchase, at the price of his life, the pleasure, not of returning to his country, but even of seeing at a distance the very smoke of it.
Dacier.
There are some things dispers'd in this speech of
Pallas,
which I shall lay together; as that
Minerva
makes it an aggravation to the calamity of
Ulysses,
to be detain'd by a Goddess that loves him; that he is enclosed in an Island; and she adds, round which the Seas flow; as if that was not common to all Islands; but these expressions are used to shew the impossibility of the escape of
Ulysses,
without the interposition of
Jupiter.
In the conclusion she observes, that
Ulysses
never neglected to sacrifice before
Troy
: this is said to shew the great piety of
Ulysses,
who not only paid his sacrifices in
Ithaca,
where he abounded in riches, but amongst strangers in an enemy's country, where there might be a scarcity of offerings.
Eustathius.
XVII.
VERSE 84.
Daughter, what words,
&c.]
This verse is frequently repeated both in the
Iliad
and the
Odyssey
; it has here a particular energy.
Jupiter
reproves
Minerva
for supposing he could ever be unmindful of an Heroe so pious as
Ulysses.
It is spoken with vehemence; an instance, says
Eustathius,
that it is not only equitable, but an attribute of Divinity, for rulers to remember those who serve them faithfully.
XVIII.
VERSE 89.
T'avenge his Giant-son.
]
It is artful in the Poet to tell the Reader the occasion of the sufferings of
Ulysses
in the opening of the Poem; 'tis a justice due to his character, to shew that his misfortunes are not the consequence of his crimes, but the effect of
Neptune
's anger.
It is observable, that
Homer
does not stop to explain how
Ulysses
put out the eye of the
Cyclops
; he hastens forward into the middle of his Poem, and leaves that for the future narration of
Ulysses.
XIX.
VERSE 110.
Mean time
Telemachus
—demands my care,
&c.]
Rapin
has rais'd several objections against this piece of conduct in
Homer
: He tells us that the action of the
Odyssey
is imperfect, that it begins with the voyages of
Telemachus,
and ends with those of
Ulysses
: That the four first books are all concerning
Telemachus:
That his voyage bears no proportion to that of
Ulysses,
that it contributes nothing to his return, which is brought about by
Jupiter,
and the assistance of the
Phaeacians
; that this gave occasion to
Beni
in his
academical discourses
to assert, that the Fable of the
Odyssey
is double, that the four first books of it are neither Episode, nor part of an action, nor have any connexion with the rest of the work.
I am of opinion, that these objections are made with too great severity; The destruction of the Suitors is the chief hinge upon which the Poem turns, as it contributes chiefly to the re-establishment of
Ulysses
in his country and regality; and whatever contributes to this end, contributes to the principal action, and is of a piece with the rest of the Poem; and that this voyage does so is evident, in that it gives a defeat to the Suitors, and controuls their insolence; it preserves
Ulysses
's throne and bed inviolate, in that it gives
Telemachus
courage to resist their attempts: It sets his character in a fair point of light, who is the second personage of the Poem, and is to have a great share in the future actions of it.
Eustathius
judiciously observes, that
Homer
here prepares the way for the defeat of the Suitors, the chief design of his Poem; and lays the ground-work of probability on which he intends to build his Poem, and reconcile it to the rules of credibility.
If it be ask'd for what end this voyage of
Telemachus
is made; the answer is, to enquire after
Ulysses
: So that whatever Episodes are interwoven,
Ulysses
is still in view; and whatever
Telemachus
acts, is undertaken solely upon his account; and consequently, whatever is acted, contributes to the principal design, the restoration of
Ulysses.
So that the Fable is entire, and the Action not double.
'Tis to be remember'd also, that the sufferings of
Ulysses
are the subject of the Poem; his personal calamities are not only intended, but his domestic misfortunes; and by this conduct
Homer
shews us the extent of his misfortunes: His Queen is attempted, his Throne threaten'd, and his Wealth consumed in riot;
Ulysses
suffers in
Telemachus,
and in every circumstance of life is unhappy.
XX.
VERSE 118.
To distant
Sparta
, and the spacious waste Of sandy
Pyle.]
Rapin
is very severe upon this conduct. When
Telemachus,
says he, is to search for his father in the Courts of
Greece,
he cannot make the least progress without
Minerva
; 'tis she who inspires his thoughts, and assists in the execution. Could not honour, duty, or nature, have moved his heart toward an absent father? The Machine, adds he, has not the least appearance of probability, inasmuch as the Goddess conducts him to every place, except only where
Ulysses
resides; of which she ought by no means to be ignorant, upon the account of her Divinity.
But surely nothing can be be more natural, than for a son, in order to gain intelligence of an absent father, to enquire in those places, and of those persons, where and from whom he is most likely to have information. Such is the conduct of
Telemachus:
And Poetry, which delights in the Wonderful, because this conduct agrees with wisdom, ascribes it to
Minerva
the Goddess of it. No doubt but
Minerva
knew where
Ulysses
resided: but men must act as men: such an immediate interposition as
Rapin
requires, had stopp'd at once the fountain of the Poet's invention. If what a Poet invents be natural, it is justifiable; and he may give the rein to his imagination, if he restrain it from running into extravagance and wildness.
XXI.
VERSE 112.
'Tis mine, to form his green, unpractis'd years,
&c.]
In this the Poet draws the out-lines of what he is to fill up in the four subsequent books: and nothing can give us a greater idea of his unbounded invention, than his building upon so plain a foundation such a noble superstructure: He entertains us with variety of Episodes, historical relations, and manners of those ancient times. It must be confess'd, that the Characters in the
Odyssey,
and the number of the chief Actors, are but few; and yet the Poet never tires, he varies and diversifies the story so happily, that he is continually opening new scenes to engage our attention. He resembles his own
Proteus,
he is capable of all shapes, yet in all shapes the same Deity.
XXII.
VERSE 136.
Mentes
, the Monarch of the
Taphian
land.
]
We are told by tradition, that
Homer
was so sensible of friendship, that to do honour to his particular friends, he immortalized their names in his Poems. In the
Iliad
he has shewn his gratitude to
Tychius
; and in the
Odyssey,
to
Mentes, Phemius,
and
Mentor.
This
Mentes
was a famous Merchant of the isle of
Leucade,
who received
Homer
at
Smyrna,
and made him his companion in all his voyages. It is to this
Mentes
we owe the two Poems of
Homer,
for the Poet in all probability had never wrote them without those lights and informations he receiv'd, and the discoveries he was enabled to make, by those travels.
Homer
is not contented to give his name to the King of the
Taphians,
but feigns also that the Goddess of Wisdom chose to appear in his shape, preferably to that of all the Kings who were nearer neighbours to
Ithaca. Eustathius
thinks there might have been a real King of
Taphos
of this name, who was a friend to
Ulysses.
This may possibly be; but I would chuse to adhere rather to the old tradition, as it does honour to friendship.
Dacier.
XXIII.
VERSE 139.
Enormous riot and mis-rule.
]
This is the first appearance of the Suitors; and the Poet has drawn their pictures in such colours, as are agreeable to their characters thro' the whole Poem. They are, as
Horace
expresses it,
—Fruges consumere nati,
Sponsi Penelopes, Nebulones—
The Poet gives a fine contrast between them and
Telemachus
; he entertains himself with his own thoughts, weighs the sum of things, and beholds with a virtuous sorrow the disorders of the Suitors: He appears, (like
Ulysses
among his transform'd companions in the tenth book,) a wife man, among brutes.
XXIV.
VERSE 143.
At Chess they vie, to captivate the Queen,
Divining of their loves—
There are great disputes what this Game was, at which the Suitors play'd?
Athenaeus
relates it from
Apian
the Grammarian, who had it from
Cteson
a native of
Ithaca,
that the sport was in this manner. The number of the Suitors being 108, they equally divided their men, or balls; that is to say, 54 on each side; these were placed on the board opposite to each other. Between the two sides was a vacant space, in the midst of which was the main mark, or
Queen,
the point which all were to aim at. They took their turns by lot; he who took or displac'd that mark, got his own in its place; and if by a second man, he again took it, without touching any of the others, he won the game; and it pass'd as an omen of obtaining his mistress. This principal mark, or
Queen,
was called by whatever name the Gamesters pleas'd; and the Suitors gave it the name of
Penelope.
'Tis said, this Game was invented by
Palamedes
during the siege of
Troy.
[
Sophocles in Palam.
]
Eustath. Spondan. Dacier.
XXV.
VERSE 157.
Griev'd that a Visitant so long should wait.
]
The Reader will lose much of the pleasure of this Poem, if he reads it without the reflection, that he peruses one of the most ancient books in the world; it sets before him persons, places, and actions that existed three thousand years ago: Here we have an instance of the humanity of those early ages:
Telemachus
pays a reverence to this stranger, only because he is a stranger: He attends him in person, and welcomes him with all the openness of ancient hospitality.
XXVI.
VERSE 185. &c.
The Feast describ'd.
]
There is nothing that has drawn more ridicule upon
Homer,
than the frequent descriptions of his entertainments: It has been judged, that he was more than ordinarily delighted with them, since he omits no opportunity to describe them; nay, his temperance has not been unsuspected, according to that verse of
Horace,
Laudibus arguitur vini vinosus Homerus.
But we must not condemn, without stronger evidence: a man may commend a sumptuous entertainment, or good wines, without being either a drunkard or a glutton. But since there are so many entertainments describ'd in the Poem, it may not be improper to give this some explanation.
They wash before the feast; perhaps, says
Eustathius,
because they always at the feast made libations to the Gods. The Ewer was of gold, the vessel from whence the water was pour'd of silver, and the cups out of which they drank were of gold.
A damsel attends
Mentes,
but heralds wait upon the Suitors:
Eustathius
observes a decency in this conduct; the Suitors were lewd debauchees, and consequently a woman of modesty would have been an improper attendant upon such a company. Beautiful Youths attended the company in quality of cup-bearers.
A Matron who has charge of the houshold (
) brings in the bread and the cold meats, for so
Eustathius
interprets
; an Officer, whose employ it was to portion out the victuals, brings in the meats that furnish'd out the rest of the entertainment; and after the feast, a Bard diverts them with vocal and instrumental music.
Dacier
is in great pain about the cold victuals; she is afraid lest the Reader should think them the leavings of a former day: and tells us they might possibly be in the nature of our cold
Tongues, Jambons,
&c. But I think such fears to be groundless: We must have reference to the customs of those early ages; and if it was customary for cold meats to be serv'd up, (neither is it necessary to suppose them the leavings of the former entertainment) it can be no disgrace to the hospitality of
Telemachus.
XXVII.
VERSE 197.
To
Phemius
was consign'd the chorded Lyre.
]
In ancient times, Princes entertain'd in their families certain learned and wise men, who were both Poets and Philosophers, and not only made it their business to amuse and delight, but to promote wisdom and morality.
Ulysses,
at his departure for
Troy,
left one of these with
Penelope
: and it was usual to consign, in this manner, the care of their wives and families to the Poets of those days, as appears from a signal passage in the third book, verse (of the original) 267,
&c.
To this man
Homer
gives the name of
Phemius
; to celebrate one of his friends, who was so call'd, and who had been his Praeceptor (says
Eustathius
). I must add one remark, that tho' he places his Master here in no very good company, yet he guards his character from any imputation, by telling us, that he attended the Suitors by compulsion. This is not only a great instance of his gratitude, but also of his tenderness and delicacy.
XXVIII.
VERSE 225.
All who deserv'd his choice—
]
'Tis evident, from this and many places in the
Iliad,
that Hospitality was hereditary; an happiness and honour peculiar to these heroic ages. And surely nothing can set the character of
Ulysses
in a more agreeable point of light, than what
Telemachus
here delivers of it;
"He was the friend of all mankind."
Eustathius
observes, that
has a middle signification; that it implies that
Ulysses
behav'd benevolently to all men; or that all men behaved benevolently to
Ulysses
; either sense makes
Ulysses
a very amiable person: He must be a friend to all men, to whom all men are friends.
XXIX.
VERSE 234.
I steer my voyage to the
Brutian
strand.
]
In the country of the
Brutians,
in the lower part of
Italy,
was a town call'd
Temese.
That
Homer
here meant this city, and not one of the same name in
Cyprus,
appears not only because this was famous for works of brass, but because (as
Strabo
observes)
Ithaca
lay in the direct way from
Taphos
to this city of the
Brutii
; whereas it was considerably out of the way to pass by
Ithaca
to that of
Cyprus.
The same Author says, that the rooms for preparing of brass were remaining in his time; tho' then out of use.
Ovid. Met.
15.
Hippotadaeque domos regis, Temesesque metalla.
And
Statius, Sylv.
—se totis Temese dedit hausta metallis.
Bochart
is of opinion, that the name of
Temese
was given to this town by the
Phenicians,
from the brass it produced,
Temes
in their language signifying Fusion of Metals: an Art to which the
Phenicians
much apply'd themselves.
Eustat. Dacier.
XXX.
VERSE 245.
Laertes
's Retirement.
]
This most beautiful passage of
Laertes
has not escap'd the censure of the Critics; they say acts an unmanly part, he forgets that he is a King, and reduces himself unworthily into the condition of a servant.
Eustathius
gives two reasons for his retirement, which answer those objections; the first is, that he could not endure to see the outrage and insolence of the Suitors; the second, that his Grief for
Ulysses
makes him abandon society, and prefer his vineyard to his Court. This is undoubtedly the picture of human nature under affliction; for sorrow loves solitude. Thus it is, as
Dacier
well observes, that
Menedemus
in
Terence
laments his lost Son:
Menedemus
is the Picture of
Laertes.
Nor does it make any difference, that the one is a King, the other a person of private station: Kings are but enobled humanity, and are liable, as other men, to as great, if not greater, sensibility.
The word
(
creeping
about his vineyard) has also given offence, as it carries an idea of meanness with it; but
Eustathius
observes, that it excellently expresses the melancholy of
Laertes,
and denotes no meanness of spirit: The same word is apply'd to the great
Achilles
in the
Iliad,
when he laments at the Obsequies of
Patroclus
; and
Horace
no doubt had it in his view,
—Tacitum sylvas inter-reptare salubreis.
XXXI.
VERSE 257.
Among a savage race,
&c.]
It is the observation of
Eustathius,
that what
Minerva
here delivers bears resemblance to the Oracles, in which part is false, part true: That
Ulysses
is detain'd in an Island, is a truth; that he is detain'd by Barbarians, a falshood: This is done by the Goddess, that she may be thought to be really a man, as she appears to be; she speaks with the dubiousness of a man, not the certainty of a Goddess; she raises his expectation, by shewing she has an insight into futurity; and to engage his belief, she discovers in part the truth to
Telemachus.
Neither was it necessary or convenient for
Telemachus
to know the whole truth: for if he had known that
Ulysses
inhabited a desart, detain'd by a Goddess, he must of consequence have known of his return, (for he that could certify the one, could certify the other,) and so had never gone in search of him; and it would hence have happen'd, that
Homer
had been depriv'd of giving us those graces of Poetry which arise from the voyage of
Telemachus.
Eustathius.
XXXII.
VERSE 275.
To prove a genuine birth,
&c.]
There is an appearance of something very shocking in this speech of
Telemachus.
It literally runs thus:
My mother assures me that I am the son of
Ulysses
, but I know it not.
It seems to reflect upon his mother's chastity, as if he had a doubt of his own legitimacy. This seeming simplicity in
Telemachus,
says
Eustathius,
is the effect of a troubled spirit; it is grief that makes him doubt if he can be the son of the great, the generous
Ulysses
; it is no reflection upon
Penelope,
and consequently no fault in
Telemachus:
It is an undoubted truth that the mother only knows the legitimacy of the child: Thus
Euripides,
that is, The mother knows the child, the father only believes it,
Thus also
Menander,
that is, No man knows assuredly who begot him, we only guess it, and believe it.
Aristotle
in his
Rhetoric
is also of this opinion;
What I have here said, is translated literally from
Eustathius,
and if it edifies the Reader I am content. But the meaning of the passage is this,
Mentes
asks
Telemachus
if he be the son of
Ulysses
; he replies,
"
So my mother assures me; but nothing sure so wretched as I am could proceed from that great man.
"
But however this may be reconciled to truth, I believe few Ladies would take it as a compliment, if their sons shou'd tell them there was some room to doubt of their legitimacy: there may be abundance of truth in it, and yet very little decency.
XXXIII.
VERSE 309.
Now snatch'd by Harpies,
&c.]
The meaning of this expression is, that
Ulysses
has not had the rites of sepulture. This among the Ancients was esteem'd the greatest of calamities, as it hinder'd the Shades of the deceased from entering into the state of the happy.
XXXIV.
VERSE 315.
To tempt the spouseless Queen—resort the Nobles.
]
It is necessary to reconcile the conduct of the Suitors to probability, since it has so great a share in the process of the
Odyssey.
It may seem incredible that
Penelope,
who is a Queen, in whom the supreme power is lodg'd, should not dismiss such unwelcome intruders, especially since many of them were her own subjects: Besides, it seems an extraordinary way of courtship in them, to ruin the person to whom they make their addresses.
To solve this objection we must consider the nature of the
Grecian
governments: The chief men of the land had great authority; Tho' the government was monarchical, it was not despotic;
Laertes
was retir'd, and disabled with age;
Telemachus
was yet in his minority; and the fear of any violence either against her own person, or against her son, might deter
Penelope
from using any endeavours to remove men of such insolence, and such power.
Dacier.
XXXV.
VERSE 341.
To taint with deadly drugs the barbed dart.
]
It is necessary to explain this passage. It seems at first view, as if
Ulysses
had requested what a good man could not grant.
Ilus,
says
Mentes,
deny'd the Poison, because he fear'd the anger of the Gods; and the poison it self is call'd by
Homer
, as if it were design'd against mankind.
Eustathius
defends
Ulysses
variously: He intended, says he, to employ it against beasts only, that infested his country, or in hunting. He assigns another reason, and says that the Poet is preparing the way to give an air of probability to the destruction of the Suitors. He poisons his arrows, that every wound may be mortal; on this account the poison may be call'd
; for it is certain in the wars of
Troy,
poison'd arrows were not in use, for many persons who were wounded recover'd; so that of necessity they must be reserv'd for domestic occasions. From what has been said we may collect the reason why
Anchialus
granted the poison to
Ulysses,
and
Ilus
deny'd it;
Anchialus
was the friend of
Ulysses,
and knew that he would not employ it to any ill purpose; but
Ilus,
who was a stranger to him, was afraid lest he should abuse it.
Eustathius.
XXXVI.
VERSE 360.
Dismiss'd with honour let her hence repair.
]
I will lay before the reader literally what
Eustathius
observes upon these words. There is a Soloecism, says he, in these verses or words, that cannot be reduc'd to the rules of construction. It should be
, not
. How then comes the accusative case to be used instead of the nominative?
Mentes,
adds he, may be suppos'd to have intended to have said
(send thy Mother away;) but considering, in the midst of the Sentence, that such advice was not suitable to be given to
Telemachus,
he checks himself, and suppresses
; and no other word immediately occurring, that requir'd an accusative case, he falls into a Soloecism.
But perhaps this is more ingenious than true; tho'
Mentes
was in haste when he spoke it,
Homer
was not when he compos'd it. Might not an errour creep into the original by the negligence of a Transcriber, who might write
for
? This is the more probable, because the one stands in the Verse in every respect as well as the other.
What
Eustathius
adds is very absurd: he says that
Telemachus
must observe both the interpretations, either send thy Mother away, or let thy Mother retire. So that the advice was double, send thy Mother away if thou dost not love her; but if thou art unwilling to grieve her, let her recess be voluntary.
XXXVII.
VERSE 367.
Omen'd Voice—of
Jove.]
There is a difficulty in this Passage. In any case of enquiry, any Words that were heard by accident were call'd by the
Latins, Omens
; by
Homer, the voice of Jupiter
; and he stiles them so, because it is thro' his providence that those words come to our knowledge:
signifies
fame
or
rumour
; and the Ancients refer'd all voices or sounds to
Jupiter
; and still'd him
. So that the
voice of Jove
implies any words that we hear by chance, from whence we can draw any thing that gives light to our concerns or enquiries.
Dacier. Eustathius.
XXXVIII.
VERSE. 387.
Hast thou not heard,
&c.]
It may seem that this example of
Orestes
does not come fully up to the purpose intended: There is a wide difference in the circumstances:
Orestes
slew an adulterer, and a single person, with an adulteress. The designs of
Telemachus
are not against one, but many enemies; neither are they adulterers, nor have they slain the father of
Telemachus,
as is the case of
Orestes
: nor is
Penelope
an adulteress. The intent therefore of the Goddess is only to shew what a glorious act it is to defend our parents:
Orestes,
says
Mentes,
is every where celebrated for honouring his father, and thou shalt obtain equal honour by defending thy mother.
The sense that
here bears is remarkable, it signifies not only a person who kills his own father, but who kills the father of any other person.
Eustathius.
XXXIX.
VERSE 413.—
With eagle-speed she cut the sky,
Instant invisible—.
]
I pass over the several interpretations that have been given to the word
; some say it implies she flew up the chimney,
&c.
In reality it signifies a species of an eagle; but it may also signifie the same as
(invisible,) either of the latter senses are natural, or both together,
like an eagle she disappear'd.
Eustathius.
XL.
VERSE 420.
Hush'd in attention to the warbled song.
]
There may be two reasons why this is inserted; either the Suitors were pleas'd with the sweetness of the song, or the subject of it; they sate attentive to hear the death of
Ulysses,
in the process of his story. This gives us a reason why immediately
Penelope
descended to stop the song; she fear'd lest he might touch upon the story of
Ulysses,
and say that he dy'd in his return. This would have reduc'd her to the utmost necessity, and she could not have deferr'd to marry.
Phemius
would have certainly found credit, for Poets were believ'd to be inspir'd by the Gods; they were look'd upon as Prophets, and to have something of divinity in them, as appears from
Demodocus
in the 8th book of the
Odyssey.
Besides there was a further necessity to put a stop to the song. If
Phemius
had declar'd him to be dead,
Penelope
could not have avoided marriage; if alive, the Suitors might have desisted, or arm'd themselves against
Ulysses,
and then their Deaths, one of the principal incidents of the Poem, could not have follow'd; neither could
Telemachus
have gone in search of his father, if he had foreknown his death, or sudden return. It is therefore artful in the Poet to cut the song short, he reserves the story of
Ulysses
for future narration, and brings all this about by a very probable method, by the interposition of
Penelope,
who requests that some other story may be chosen, a story that she can hear without sorrow.
It is very customary for women to be present at the entertainments of men; as appears from the conduct of
Helen, Arete,
Nausicaa,
and
Penelope
in divers parts of the
Odyssey:
She is here introduced with the greatest decency; she enters not the room, but stands with tears at the threshold; and even at that distance appears with her face shaded by a veil.
Eustathius.
XLI.
VERSE 443.
Oft
Jove
's aetherial rays,
&c.]
Telemachus
here reproves his mother for commanding
Phemius
to desist, or not to make
Ulysses
the subject of his song: by saying, that it was not in the Poet's own power to chuse his subject, which was frequently dictated and inspired by the Gods. This is a particular instance of the opinion the Ancients held as to the immediate inspiration of their Poets. The words in the original evidently bear this sense.
If the subject displease you, 'tis not the Poet but
Jupiter
is to blame, who inspires men of invention, as he himself pleases.
And Mad.
Dacier
strangely mistakes this passage, in rendring it,
'tis not the Poet but
Jupiter
who is the cause of our misfortunes, for 'tis he who dispenses to wretched mortals good or evil as he pleases.
At the same time she acknowledges the word
, which she here renders
laborious,
or
wretched,
to signify
persons of wit,
in the beginning of
lib.
4. and
persons of skill and ability in their art,
in
lib.
11.
XLII.
VERSE 455.
Your widow'd hours, apart, with female toil,
&c.]
These verses are taken literally from the 6th book of the
Iliad,
except that
is inserted instead of
;
Eustathius
explains the passage thus:
Women are not forbid entirely to speak, for women are talking animals,
, they have the faculty of talking, and
indeed
are rational creatures
; but they must
not give too much liberty to that unruly member, in the company of men. Sophocles
advises well,
O woman, silence is the ornament of thy sex.
Madam
Dacier,
tho' she plunders almost every thing, has spared this observation.
XLIII.
VERSE 491.
The speech of
Antinous.]
Antinous
and
Eurymachus
are
Ithacensians,
and are call'd the chief of the Suitors. It is therefore necessary to distinguish their characters;
Antinous
is violent, and determin'd against
Ulysses
;
Eurymachus
more gentle and subtle:
Antinous
derides,
Eurymachus
flatters.
This speech of
Antinous
is a conceal'd raillery; he tells
Telemachus,
that
Jove
inspires his soul with wisdom, but means that his education has been such, that he had learn'd nothing from man; he wishes (out of a seemingly kind concern for him) that he may never reign in
Ithaca,
because the weight of a crown is a burthen; and concludes with mentioning his hereditary title to it, to insinuate that is his by descent only, and not by merit.
Telemachus,
in his answer, wisely dissembles the affront of
Antinous,
he takes it in the better sense, and seems to differ only in opinion about the Regality. Think you, says he, that to be a King is to be miserable? To be a King, in my judgment, is to enjoy affluence and honour. He asserts his claim to the succession of his father, yet seems to decline it, to lay the suspicions of the Suitors asleep, that they may not prevent the measures he takes to obtain it.
Eustathius.
The speech of
Eurymachus
confirms the former observation, that this Suitor is of a more soft and moderate behaviour than
Antinous:
He cloaths ill designs with a seeming humanity, and appears a friend, while he carries on the part of an enemy:
Telemachus
had said, that if it was the will of
Jupiter,
he would ascend the Throne of
Ithaca: Eurymachus
answers, that this was as the Gods shou'd determine; an insinuation that they regarded not his claim from his father.
Telemachus
said he would maintain himself in the possession of his present inheritance:
Eurymachus
wishes that no one may arrive to dispossess him; the latent meaning of which is,
"we of your own country are sufficient for that design."
If these observations of
Eustathius
be true,
Eurymachus
was not a less enemy than
Antinous,
but a better dissembler.
XLIV.
VERSE 540.
The sage
Euryclea.]
Euryclea
was a very aged person; she was bought by
Laertes,
to nurse
Ulysses
; and in her old age attends
Telemachus:
She cost
Laertes
twenty oxen; that is, a certain quantity of money (
) which would buy twenty oxen: or perhaps the form of an ox was stamp'd upon the metal, and from thence had its appellation.
The simplicity of these Heroic times is remarkable; an old woman is the only attendant upon the son of a King: She lights him to his apartment, takes care of his cloaths, and hangs them up at the side of his bed. Greatness then consisted not in shew, but in the mind: this conduct proceeded not from the meanness of poverty, but from the simplicity of manners.
Eustathius.
Having now gone thro' the first book, I shall only observe to the Reader, that the whole of it does not take up the compass of an entire day: When
Minerva
appears to
Telemachus
the Suitors were preparing to sit down to the banquet at noon; and the business of the first book concludes with the day. It is true, that the Gods hold a debate before the descent of
Minerva,
and some small time must be allow'd for that transaction. It is remarkable, that there is not one Simile in this book, except we allow those three words to be one,
; The same observation is true of the first book of the
Iliad.
See the Notes on that place.
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.
The ARGUMENT.
The Council of
Ithaca.
Telemachus,
in the assembly of the Lords of
Ithaca,
complains of the injustice done him by the Suitors, and insists upon their departure from his Palace; appealing to the Princes, and exciting the people to declare against them. The Suitors endeavour to justify their stay, at least till he shall send the Queen to the Court of
Icarius
her father; which he refuses. There appears a prodigy of two Eagles in the sky, which an Augur expounds to the ruin of the Suitors.
Telemachus
then demands a vessel, to carry him to
Pylos
and
Sparta,
there to enquire of his father's fortunes.
Pallas
in the shape of
Mentor
(an ancient friend of
Ulysses
) helps him to a ship, assists him in preparing necessaries for the voyage, and embarks with him that night; which concludes the
second
day from the Opening of the Poem.
The SCENE continues in the Palace of
Ulysses
in
Ithaca.
W.K.
P.Fourdrinier sc.
THE SECOND BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.
N OW red'ning from the dawn, the Morning ray
Glow'd in the front of Heav'n, and gave the Day.
The youthful Hero, with returning light,
Rose anxious from th'inquietudes of Night.
A royal robe he wore with graceful pride,
A two-edg'd faulchion threaten'd by his side,
Embroider'd sandals glitter'd as he trod,
And forth he mov'd, majestic as a God.
Then by his Heralds, restless of delay,
To council calls the Peers: the Peers obey.
Soon as in solemn form th' assembly sate,
From his high dome himself descends in state.
Bright in his hand a pond'rous javelin shin'd;
Two Dogs, a faithful guard, attend behind;
Pallas
with grace divine his form improves,
And gazing crowds admire him as he moves.
His Father's throne he fill'd: while distant stood
The hoary Peers, and Aged Wisdom bow'd.
'Twas silence all: at last
Aegyptius
spoke;
Aegyptius,
by his age and sorrows broke:
A length of days his soul with prudence crown'd,
A length of days had bent him to the ground.
His eldest
Antiphus.
hope in arms to
Ilion
came,
By great
Ulysses
taught the path to fame;
But (hapless youth) the hideous
Cyclops
tore
His quiv'ring limbs, and quaff'd his spouting gore.
Three sons remain'd: To climb with haughty fires
The royal bed,
Eurynomus
aspires;
The rest with duteous love his griefs asswage,
And ease the Sire of half the cares of age.
Yet still his
Antiphus
he loves, he mourns,
And as he stood, he spoke and wept by turns.
Since great
Ulysses
sought the
Phrygian
plains,
Within these walls inglorious silence reigns.
Say then, ye Peers! by whose commands we meet?
Why here once more in solemn council sit?
Ye young, ye old, the weighty cause disclose:
Arrives some message of invading foes?
Or say, does high necessity of state
Inspire some Patriot, and demand debate!
The present Synod speaks its author wise;
Assist him,
Jove!
thou regent of the skies!
He spoke.
Telemachus
with transport glows,
Embrac'd the omen, and majestic rose:
(His royal hand th'imperial scepter sway'd)
Then thus, addressing to
Aegyptius,
said.
Rev'rend old man! lo here confest he stands
By whom ye meet; my grief your care demands.
No story I unfold of public woes,
Nor bear advices of impending foes:
Peace the blest land, and joys incessant crown;
Of all this happy realm, I grieve alone.
For my lost Sire continual sorrows spring,
The great, the good; your Father, and your King.
Yet more; our house from its foundation bows,
Our foes are pow'rful, and your sons the foes:
Hither, unwelcome, to the Queen they come;
Why seek they not the rich
Icarian
dome?
If she must wed, from other hands require
The dowry; Is
Telemachus
her Sire?
Yet thro' my court the noise of Revel rings,
And wastes the wise frugality of Kings.
Scarce all my herds their luxury suffice;
Scarce all my wine their midnight hours supplies.
Safe in my youth, in riot still they grow,
Nor in the helpless Orphan dread a foe.
But come it will, the time when manhood grants
More pow'rful advocates than vain complaints.
Approach that hour! unsufferable wrong
Cries to the Gods, and vengeance sleeps too long.
Rise then ye Peers! with virtuous anger rise!
Your same revere, but most th'avenging skies.
By all the deathless pow'rs that reign above,
By righteous
Themis
and by thund'ring
Jove,
(
Themis,
who gives to councils, or denies
Success; and humbles, or confirms the wise)
Rise in my aid! suffice the tears that flow
For my lost Sire, nor add new woe to woe.
If e'er he bore the sword to strengthen ill,
Or having pow'r to wrong, betray'd the will;
On me, on me your kindled wrath asswage,
And bid the voice of lawless riot rage.
If ruin to our royal race ye doom,
Be You the spoilers, and our wealth consume.
Then might we hope redress from juster laws,
And raise all
Ithaca
to aid our cause:
But while your Sons commit th' unpunish'd wrong,
You make the Arm of Violence too strong.
While thus he spoke, with rage and grief he frown'd,
And dash'd th'imperial sceptre to the ground.
The big round tear hung trembling in his eye:
The Synod griev'd, and gave a pitying sigh,
Then silent sate—at length
Antinous
burns
With haughty rage, and sternly thus returns.
O insolence of youth! whose tongue affords
Such railing eloquence, and war of words.
Studious thy country's worthies to defame,
Thy erring voice displays thy Mother's shame.
Elusive of the bridal day, she gives
Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.
Did not the sun, thro' heav'n's wide azure roll'd,
For three long years the royal fraud behold?
While she, laborious in delusion, spread
The spacious loom, and mix'd the various thread:
Where as to life the wond'rous figures rise,
Thus spoke th'inventive Queen, with artful sighs.
" Tho' cold in death
Ulysses
breathes no more,
" Cease yet a while to urge the bridal hour;
" Cease, 'till to great
Laertes
I bequeath
" A task of grief, his ornaments of death.
" Lest when the Fates his royal ashes claim,
" The
Grecian
matrons taint my spotless fame;
" When he, whom living mighty realms obey'd,
" Shall want in death a shroud to grace his shade.
Thus she: at once the gen'rous train complies,
Nor fraud mistrusts in virtue's fair disguise.
The work she ply'd; but studious of delay,
By night revers'd the labours of the day.
While thrice the sun his annual journey made,
The conscious lamp the midnight fraud survey'd;
Unheard, unseen, three years her arts prevail;
The fourth, her maid unfolds th'amazing tale.
We saw, as unperceiv'd we took our stand,
The backward labours of her faithless hand.
Then urg'd, she perfects her illustrious toils;
A wond'rous monument of female wiles!
But you oh Peers! and thou oh Prince! give ear:
(I speak aloud, that ev'ry
Greek
may hear)
Dismiss the Queen; and if her sire approves,
Let him espouse her to the Peer she loves:
Bid instant to prepare the bridal train,
Nor let a race of Princes wait in vain.
Tho' with a grace divine her soul is blest,
And all
Minerva
breathes within her breast,
In wond'rous arts than woman more renown'd,
And more than woman with deep wisdom crown'd;
Tho'
Tyro
nor
Mycene
match her name,
Nor great
Alcmena,
(the proud boasts of Fame)
Yet thus by heav'n adorn'd, by heav'n's decree
She shines with fatal excellence, to thee:
With thee, the bowl we drain, indulge the feast,
'Till righteous heav'n reclaim her stubborn breast.
What tho' from pole to pole resounds her name?
The son's destruction waits the mother's fame:
For 'till she leaves thy court, it is decreed,
Thy bowl to empty, and thy flock to bleed.
While yet he speaks,
Telemachus
replies.
Ev'n Nature starts, and what ye ask denies.
Thus, shall I thus repay a mother's cares,
Who gave me life, and nurs'd my infant years?
While sad on foreign shores
Ulysses
treads,
Or glides a ghost with unapparent shades.
How to
Icarius
in the bridal hour
Shall I, by waste undone, refund the dow'r?
How from my father should I vengeance dread?
How would my mother curse my hated head?
And while in wrath to vengeful Fiends she cries,
How from their hell would vengeful Fiends arise?
Abhorr'd by all, accurs'd my name would grow,
The earth's disgrace, and Humankind my foe.
If this displease, why urge ye here your stay?
Haste from the court, ye spoilers, haste away:
Waste in wild riot what your land allows,
There ply the early feast, and late carouse.
But if, to honour lost, 'tis still decreed
For you my bowl shall flow, my flocks shall bleed;
Judge and assert my right, impartial
Jove!
By him, and all th' immortal host above,
(A sacred oath) if heav'n the pow'r supply,
Vengeance I vow, and for your wrongs ye die.
With that, two Eagles from a mountain's height
By
Jove
's command direct their rapid flight;
Swift they descend with wing to wing conjoin'd,
Stretch their broad plumes, and float upon the wind.
Above th' assembled Peers they wheel on high,
And clang their wings, and hovering beat the sky;
With ardent eyes the rival train they threat,
And shrieking loud denounce approaching fate.
They cuff, they tear, their cheeks and necks they rend,
And from their plumes huge drops of blood descend.
Then failing o'er the domes and tow'rs they fly,
Full tow'rd the east, and mount into the sky.
The wondring Rivals gaze with cares opprest,
And chilling horrours freeze in every breast.
'Till big with knowledge of approaching woes
The Prince of Augurs,
Halitherses,
rose:
Prescient he view'd th' aerial tracts, and drew
A sure presage from ev'ry wing that flew.
Ye sons (he cry'd) of
Ithaca
give ear,
Hear all! but chiefly you, oh Rivals! hear.
Destruction sure o'er all your heads impends;
Ulysses
comes, and death his steps attends.
Nor to the Great alone is death decreed;
We, and our guilty
Ithaca
must bleed.
Why cease we then the wrath of heav'n to stay?
Be humbled all, and lead ye Great! the way.
For lo! my words no fancy'd woes relate:
I speak from science, and the voice is Fate.
When great
Ulysses
sought the
Phrygian
shores
To shake with war proud
Ilion
's lofty tow'rs,
Deeds then undone my faithful tongue foretold;
Heav'n seal'd my words, and you those deeds behold.
I see (I cry'd) his woes, a countless train;
I see his friends o'erwhelm'd beneath the main;
How twice ten years from shore to shore he roams;
Now twice ten years are past, and now he comes!
To whom
Eurymachus
—Fly Dotard, fly!
With thy wise dreams, and fables of the sky.
Go prophecy at home; thy sons advise:
Here thou art sage in vain—I better read the skies.
Unnumber'd Birds glide thro' th' aerial way,
Vagrants of air, and unforeboding stray.
Cold in the tomb, or in the deeps below
Ulysses
lies: oh wert thou lay'd as low!
Then would that busy head no broils suggest,
Nor fire to rage
Telemachus
his breast.
From him some bribe thy venal tongue requires,
And Int'rest, not the God, thy voice inspires.
His guide-less youth, if thy experienc'd age
Mis-lead fallacious into idle rage,
Vengeance deserv'd thy malice shall repress,
And but augment the wrongs thou would'st redress.
Telemachus
may bid the Queen repair
To great
Icarius,
whose paternal care
Will guide her passion, and reward her choice,
With wealthy dow'r, and bridal gifts of price.
'Till she retires, determin'd we remain,
And both the Prince and Augur threat in vain:
His pride of words, and thy wild dream of fate,
Move not the brave, or only move their hate.
Threat on, oh Prince! elude the bridal day,
Threat on, till all thy stores in waste decay.
True,
Greece
affords a train of lovely dames,
In wealth and beauty worthy of our flames:
But never from this nobler suit we cease;
For wealth and beauty less than virtue please.
To whom the Youth. Since then in vain I tell
My num'rous woes, in silence let them dwell.
But heav'n, and all the
Greeks,
have heard my wrongs:
To heav'n, and all the
Greeks,
redress belongs.
Yet this I ask (nor be it ask'd in vain)
A bark to waft me o'er the rolling main;
The realms of
Pyle
and
Sparta
to explore,
And seek my royal sire from shore to shore:
If, or to
Fame
his doubtful fate be known,
Or to be learn'd from
Oracles
alone?
If yet he lives, with patience I forbear
'Till the fleet hours restore the circling year;
But if already wand'ring in the train
Of empty shades, I measure back the main;
Plant the fair column o'er the mighty dead,
And yield his consort to the nuptial bed.
He ceas'd; and while abash'd the Peers attend,
Mentor
arose,
Ulysses
' faithful friend:
[When fierce in arms he sought the scenes of war,
" My friend (he cry'd) my palace be thy care;
" Years roll'd on years my god-like sire decay,
" Guard thou his age, and his behests obey.]
Stern as he rose, he cast his eyes around
That flash'd with rage; and as he spoke, he frown'd.
O never, never more! let King be just,
Be mild in pow'r, or faithful to his trust!
Let Tyrants govern with an iron rod,
Oppress, destroy, and be the scourge of God;
Since he who like a father held his reign,
So soon forgot, was just and mild in vain!
True, while my friend is griev'd, his griefs I share;
Yet now the Rivals are my smallest care:
They, for the mighty mischiefs they devise,
Ere long shall pay—their forfeit lives the price.
But against you, ye
Greeks!
ye coward train,
Gods! how my soul is mov'd with just disdain?
Dumb ye all stand, and not one tongue affords
His injur'd Prince the little aid of words.
While yet he spoke,
Leocritus
rejoyn'd:
O pride of words, and arrogance of mind!
Would'st thou to rise in arms the
Greeks
advise?
Join all your pow'rs! in arms ye
Greeks
arise!
Yet would your pow'rs in vain our strength oppose;
The valiant few o'ermatch an host of foes.
Should great
Ulysses
stern appear in arms,
While the bowl circles, and the banquet warms;
Tho' to his breast his spouse with transport flies,
Torn from her breast, that hour,
Ulysses
dies.
But hence retreating to your domes repair;
To arm the vessel,
Mentor
! be thy care,
And
Halitherses!
thine: be each his friend;
Ye lov'd the father; go, the son attend.
But yet, I trust, the boaster means to stay
Safe in the court, nor tempt the watry way.
Then, with a rushing sound, th' Assembly bend
Diverse their steps: The rival rout ascend
The royal dome; while sad the Prince explores
The neighb'ring main, and sorrowing treads the shores.
There, as the waters o'er his hands he shed,
The royal suppliant to
Minerva
pray'd.
O Goddess! who descending from the skies
Vouchsaf'd thy presence to my wond'ring eyes,
By whose commands the raging deeps I trace,
And seek my sire thro' storms and rolling seas!
Hear from thy heav'ns above, oh warrior-maid!
Descend once more, propitious to my aid.
Without thy presence vain is thy command;
Greece,
and the rival train thy voice withstand.
Indulgent to his pray'r, the Goddess took
Sage
Mentor
's form, and thus like
Mentor
spoke.
O Prince, in early youth divinely wise,
Born, the
Ulysses
of thy age to rise!
If to the son the father's worth descends,
O'er the wide waves success thy ways attends:
To tread the walks of death he stood prepar'd,
And what he greatly thought, he nobly dar'd.
Were not wise sons descendent of the wise,
And did not Heroes from brave Heroes rise,
Vain were my hopes: few sons attain the praise
Of their great sires, and most their sires disgrace.
But since thy veins paternal virtue fires,
And all
Penelope
thy soul inspires,
Go, and succeed! the rivals' aims despise;
For never, never, wicked man was wise.
Blind they rejoice, tho' now, ev'n now they fall;
Death hastes amain: one hour o'erwhelms them all!
And lo, with speed we plow the watry way;
My pow'r shall guard thee, and my hand convey:
The winged vessel studious I prepare,
Thro' seas and realms companion of thy care.
Thou to the court ascend; and to the shores
(When night advances) bear the naval stores;
Bread, that decaying man with strength supplies,
And gen'rous wine, which thoughtful sorrow flies.
Mean-while the Mariners by my command
Shall speed aboard, a valiant chosen band.
Wide o'er the bay, by vessel vessel rides;
The best I chuse, to waft thee o'er the tides.
She spoke: to his high dome the Prince returns,
And as he moves with royal anguish mourns.
'Twas riot all among the lawless train;
Boar bled by boar, and goat by goat lay slain.
Arriv'd, his hand the gay
Antinous
prest,
And thus deriding, with a smile addrest.
Grieve not, oh daring Prince! that noble heart:
Ill suits gay youth the stern, heroic part.
Indulge the genial hour, unbend thy soul,
Leave thought to Age, and drain the flowing bowl.
Studious to ease thy grief, our care provides
The bark, to waft thee o'er the swelling tides.
Is this (returns the Prince) for mirth a time?
When lawless gluttons riot, mirth's a crime;
The luscious wines dishonour'd lose their taste,
The song is noise, and impious is the feast.
Suffice it to have spent with swift decay
The wealth of Kings, and made my youth a prey.
But now the wise instructions of the sage,
And manly thoughts inspir'd by manly age,
Teach me to seek redress for all my woe,
Here, or in
Pyle.
—in
Pyle
or here, your foe.
Deny your vessels; ye deny in vain;
A private voyager I pass the main.
Free breathe the winds, and free the billows flow,
And where on earth I live, I live your foe.
He spoke and frown'd, nor longer deign'd to stay,
Sternly his hand withdrew, and strode away.
Mean time, o'er all the dome, they quaff, they feast,
Derisive taunts were spread from guest to guest,
And each in jovial mood his mate addrest.
Tremble ye not, oh friends! and coward fly,
Doom'd by the stern
Telemachus
to dye?
To
Pyle
or
Sparta
to demand supplies,
Big with revenge, the mighty warrior flies:
Or comes from
Ephyré
with poisons fraught,
And kills us all in one tremendous draught?
Or who can say (his gamesome mate replies)
But while the dangers of the deeps he tries,
He, like his sire, may sink depriv'd of breath,
And punish us unkindly by his death?
What mighty labours would he then create,
To seize his treasures, and divide his state,
The royal Palace to the Queen convey,
Or him she blesses in the bridal day!
Meantime the lofty rooms the Prince surveys,
Where lay the treasures of th'
Ithacian
race:
Here ruddy brass and gold refulgent blaz'd;
There polish'd chests embroider'd vestures grac'd;
Here jars of oil breath'd forth a rich perfume;
There casks of wine in rows adorn'd the dome.
(Pure flav'rous wine, by Gods in bounty giv'n,
And worthy to exalt the feasts of heav'n.)
Untouch'd they stood, 'till his long labours o'er
The great
Ulysses
reach'd his native shore.
A double strength of bars secur'd the gates:
Fast by the door the wise
Euryclea
waits;
Euryclea,
who, great
Ops!
thy lineage shar'd,
And watch'd all night, all day; a faithful guard.
To whom the Prince. O thou whose guardian care
Nurs'd the most wretched King that breathes the air!
Untouch'd and sacred may these vessels stand,
'Till great
Ulysses
views his native land.
But by thy care twelve urns of wine be fill'd,
Next these in worth, and firm those urns be seal'd;
And twice ten measures of the choicest flour
Prepar'd, ere yet descends the evening hour.
For when the sav'ring shades of night arise,
And peaceful slumbers close my mother's eyes,
Me from our coast shall spreading sails convey,
To seek
Ulysses
thro' the wat'ry way.
While yet he spoke, she fill'd the walls with cries,
And tears ran trickling from her aged eyes.
Oh whither, whither flies my son? she cry'd,
To realms, that rocks and roaring seas divide?
In foreign lands thy father's days decay'd,
And foreign lands contain the mighty dead.
The watry way, ill-fated if thou try,
All, all must perish, and by fraud you die!
Then stay, my child! Storms beat, and rolls the main;
Oh beat those storms, and roll the seas in vain!
Far hence (reply'd the Prince) thy fears be driv'n:
Heav'n calls me forth; these counsels are of heav'n.
But by the pow'rs that hate the perjur'd, swear,
To keep my voyage from the royal ear,
Nor uncompell'd the dang'rous truth betray,
'Till twice six times descends the lamp of day:
Lest the sad tale a mother's life impair,
And grief destroy what time a while would spare.
Thus he. The matron with uplifted eyes
Attests th' all-seeing Sovereign of the skies.
Then studious she prepares the choicest flour,
The strength of wheat, and wines, an ample store.
While to the rival train the Prince returns,
The martial Goddess with impatience burns;
Like thee
Telemachus,
in voice and size,
With speed divine from street to street she flies.
She bids the Mariners prepar'd to stand,
When Night descends, embodyed on the strand.
Then to
Noemon
swift she runs, she flies,
And asks a bark: the chief a bark supplies.
And now, declining with his sloping wheels,
Down sunk the Sun behind the western hills.
The Goddess shov'd the vessel from the shores,
And stow'd within its womb the naval stores.
Full in the openings of the spacious main
It rides; and now descends the sailor train.
Next, to the court, impatient of delay
With rapid step the Goddess urg'd her way;
There every eye with flumbrous chains she bound,
And dash'd the flowing goblet to the ground.
Drowzy they rose, with heavy fumes opprest,
Reel'd from the palace, and retir'd to rest.
Then thus, in
Mentor
's reverend form array'd,
Spoke to
Telemachus
the martial Maid.
Lo! on the seas prepar'd the vessel stands;
Th' impatient mariner thy speed demands.
Swift as she spoke, with rapid pace she leads.
The footsteps of the Deity he treads.
Swift to the shore they move: Along the strand
The ready vessel rides, the sailors ready stand.
He bids them bring their stores: th' attending train
Load the tall bark, and launch into the main.
The Prince and Goddess to the stern ascend;
To the strong stroke at once the rowers bend.
Full from the west she bids fresh breezes blow;
The sable billows foam and roar below.
The Chief his orders gives; th'obedient band
With due observance wait the chief's command;
With speed the mast they rear, with speed unbind
The spacious sheet, and stretch it to the wind.
High o'er the roaring waves the spreading sails
Bow the tall mast, and swell before the gales;
The crooked keel the parting surge divides,
And to the stern retreating roll the tides.
And now they ship their oars, and crown with wine
The holy Goblet to the pow'rs divine:
Imploring all the Gods that reign above,
But chief, the blue-ey'd Progeny of
Jove.
Thus all the night they stem the liquid way,
And end their voyage with the morning ray.
W.K.
P.F.sc.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE SECOND BOOK.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE SECOND BOOK.
I.
T HIS book opens with the first appearance of
Telemachus
upon the stage of action. And
Bossu
observes the great judgment of the Poet, in beginning with the transactions of
Ithaca
in the absence of
Ulysses:
By this method he sets the conduct of
Telemachus,
Penelope,
and the Suitors, in a strong point of light; they all have a large share in the story of the Poem, and consequently ought to have distinguishing characters. It is as necessary in Epic Poetry, as it is on the Theatre, to let us immediately into the character of every person whom the Poet introduces: This adds perspicuity to the story, and we immediately grow acquainted with each personage, and interest our selves in the good or ill fortune that attends them thro' the whole relation.
Telemachus
is now about twenty years of age: In the eleventh book, the Poet tells us, he was an infant in the arms of his mother when
Ulysses
sail'd to
Troy
; that Heroe was absent near twenty years, and from hence we may gather the exact age of
Telemachus.
He is every where describ'd as a person of piety to the Gods, of duty to his parents, and as a lover of his country: he is prudent, temperate, and valiant: and the Poet well sets off the importance of this young Heroe, by giving him the Goddess of War and Wisdom for his constant attendant.
II.
VERSE 13.—
In his hand a pond'rous javelin shin'd.
]
The Poet describes
Telemachus
as if he were marching against an enemy, or going to a council of war, rather than to an assembly of Peers in his own country: Two reasons are assign'd for this conduct; either this was the common usage of Princes in those times, or
Telemachus
might look upon the Suitors as enemies, and consequently go to council in arms as against enemies.
Eustathius.
III.
VERSE 14.
Two Dogs, a faithful guard, attend behind.
]
This passage has not escap'd the raillery of the Critics; they look upon it as a mean description of a Heroe and a Prince, to give him a brace of dogs only for his guards or attendants: But such was the simplicity of ancient Princes, that except in war they had rarely any attendants or equipage. And we may be confident,
Homer
copies after the custom of the time, unless we can be so absurd as to suppose, he would feign low circumstances unnecessarily, thro' a want of judgment.
Virgil
judg'd otherwise, and thought this circumstance worthy of his imitation.
Quin etiam gemini custodes limine ab alto
Procedunt, gressumque canes comitantur Herilem.
Achiles
is describ'd in the
Iliad
with the same attendants.
—Nine large dogs domestic at his board.
B. 23.
Poetry, observes
Dacier,
is like Painting, which draws the greatest beauties from the simplest customs: and even in history, we receive a sensible pleasure from the least circumstance that denotes the customs of ancient times. It may be added, that the Poet, as well as the Painter, is obliged to follow the customs of the age of which he writes, or paints: a modern dress would ill become
Achilles
or
Ulysses,
such a conduct would be condemned as an absurdity in painting, and ought to be so in poetry.
IV.
VERSE 31.
Yet still his
Antiphus
he loves, he mourns.
]
Homer,
says
Eustathius,
inserts these particularities concerning the family of
Aegyptius,
to give an air of truth to his story. It does not appear that
Aegyptius
knew the certainty of the death of
Antiphus
; (for it is the Poet who relates it, and not the father;) whence, as
Dacier
observes, should he learn it? he only laments him, according to the prevailing opinion that all the companions of
Ulysses
were lost with
Ulysses.
V.
VERSE 33.
Since great
Ulysses
, &c.
]
We are here told, that there never had been any council conven'd in
Ithaca,
since the departure of
Ulysses.
The general design and moral of the
Odyssey,
is to inform us of the mischievous effects which the Absence of a King and Father of a family produces: We deprive, as
Bossu
observes, the Poem of its very soul, and spoil the Fable, if we retrench from it the disorders which the Suitors create in the absence of
Ulysses,
both in his family and dominions. Nothing can give us a greater image of those disorders, than what is here related: What must a kingdom suffer in twenty years, without a Ruler, without a Council to make Laws or punish enormities? Such is the condition of
Ithaca: Laertes
is superannuated;
Penelope
oppress'd by the violence of the Suitors; and
Telemachus
to this time, in his minority.
It is very artful in the Poet to open the assembly by
Aegyptius: Telemachus
was the person who conven'd it; and being the greatest personage present, it might be expected that he should open the design of it: But to give
Telemachus
courage, who was young and inexperienc'd,
Aegyptius
first rises, and by praising the person who had summon'd them (of whom he seems ignorant) gives
Telemachus
to understand he has friends among the assembly: This he could no other way so safely have done, considering the power of the Suitors. By this means,
Telemachus
is encouraged to speak boldly, and arraign the disorders of the Suitors with the utmost freedom.
VI.
VERSE 54.
Your Father, and your King.
]
Telemachus
here sets the character of
Ulysses,
as a King, in the most agreeable point of light: He rul'd his people with the same mildness as a father rules his children. This must needs have a very happy effect upon the audience; not only as it shews
Ulysses
to have been a good Governour; but as it recalls the memory of the happiness they receiv'd from that mild government, and obliquely condemns them of ingratitude who had forgot it. By this method also the Poet interests us deeply in the sufferings of
Ulysses
; we cannot see a good man and good King in distress, without the most tender emotions.
VII.
VERSE 55.
Yet more—our house,
&c.]
What
Telemachus
here says has given offence to the Critics; they think it indecent for a son to say, that he bears with more regret the disorder of his family than the loss of his father; yet this objection will vanish if we weigh
Penelope, Telemachus,
and his whole posterity, against the single person of
Ulysses.
But what chiefly takes away this objection is, that
Telemachus
was still in hopes of his father's return: for
does not imply necessarily his death, but absence: and then both with justice and decency,
Telemachus
may say that he grieves more for the destruction of his family, than for the absence of
Ulysses.
VIII.
VERSE 63.
Scarce all my herds their luxury suffice.
]
This passage is ridicul'd by the Critics; they set it in a wrong light, and then grow very pleasant upon it:
Telemachus
makes a sad outcry because the Suitors eat his sheep, his beeves, and fatted goats; and at last falls into tears. The truth is, the riches of Kings and Princes, in those early ages, consisted chiefly in flocks and cattle; thus
Aeneas
and
Paris
are describ'd as tending their flocks,
&c.
and
Abraham
in the scriptures, as abounding in this kind of wealth.
These Critics would form a different idea of the state and condition of
Telemachus,
if they consider'd that he had been capable to maintain no fewer than an hundred and eight persons in a manner very expensive for many years; for so many (with their attendants) were the Suitors, as appears from the 16th book; and at the same time he kept up the dignity of his own court, and liv'd with great hospitality.
But it is a sufficient answer to the objections against this passage, to observe, that it is not the expence, but manner of it, that
Telemachus
laments: This he expresly declares by the word
; and surely a sober man may complain against luxury, without being arraigned of meanness; and against profusion, without being condemned for parsimony.
IX.
VERSE 75.
Themis
, who gives to Councils, or denies
Success.
]
Eustathius
observes, that there was a custom to carry the statue of
Themis
to the assemblies in former ages, and carry it back again when those assemblies were dissolv'd; and thus
Themis
may be said to form, and dissolve an assembly.
Dacier
dislikes this assertion, as having no foundation in antiquity; she thinks that the assertion of
Telemachus
is general, that he intimates it is Justice alone that establishes the councils of mankind, and that Injustice confounds and brings the wicked designs of men to confusion.
I have follow'd this interpretation, not only as it suits best with the usual morality of
Homer,
but also as
Jupiter
is mention'd with
Themis
; and no such custom is pretended concerning his statue. He is expresly stil'd by the ancients
. In
Sicily
there was an Altar of
, or of
Jupiter who presides over Councils. Eustathius
from
Herodotus.
X.
VERSE 84.
Be You the spoilers, and our wealth consume.
]
To understand this passage, we must remember, as
Eustathius
remarks, that
Telemachus
is pleading his cause before the
Ithacensians
; them he constitutes the Judges of his cause: He therefore prevents an answer which they might make,
viz. We are not the men that are guilty of these outrages
;
Telemachus
rejoins,
"It were better for me to suffer from your hands; for by your quiescence you make my affairs desperate:"
an intimation that they should rise in his defence.
XI.
VERSE. 91.
The big round tear hung trembling in his eye.
]
This passage is not one of those, where the Poet can be blam'd for causing a Heroe to weep. If we consider the youth of
Telemachus,
together with the tenderness agreeable to that time of life; the subjects that demand his concern; the apprehension of the loss of a father; and the desolate state of his mother and kingdom: All these make his readiness to burst into tears an argument, not of any want of spirit in him, but of true sense, and goodness of nature: and is a great propriety, which shews the right judgment of the Poet.
XII.
VERSE 95.
Oh insolence of youth,
&c.]
We find
Antinous
always setting himself in the strongest opposition to
Telemachus
; and therefore, he is the first that falls by the spear of
Ulysses
; the Poet observes justice, and as
Antinous
is the first in guilt, he is the first in punishment. What
Antinous
says in this speech concerning the treachery of the female servant of
Penelope,
prepares the way for the punishment
Ulysses
inflicts on some of the maids in the conclusion of the Poem: This is an act of Poetical justice; and it is as necessary in Epic as in Tragic Poetry to reward the just, and punish the guilty.
Eustathius.
XIII.
VERSE 99.
Elusive of the bridal day, she gives
Fond hopes to all, and all with hopes deceives.
It will be necessary to vindicate the character of
Penelope
the Heroine of the Poem, from the aspersions of
Antinous.
It must be confest that she has a very hard game to play, she neither dares consent, nor deny, if she consents, she injures
Ulysses
whom she still expects to return: if she denies, she endangers the Throne, and the life of
Telemachus,
from the violence of the Suitors; so that no other method is left but to elude their addresses.
I must not conceal, what
Eustathius
has mention'd from some Authors, as
Lycophron, &c.
who say that
Penelope
was
, in plain
English, an Harlot
; and he quotes
Herodotus,
as affirming that she had a son, named
Pan,
by
Hermes
; but the Bishop declares it is all a scandal; and every body must conclude the same, from her conduct, as describ'd in
Homer.
To vindicate her in this place, we must consider who it is that speaks:
Antinous,
an unsuccessful Lover: and what he blames as a crime, is really her glory; he blames her because she does not comply with their desires; and it had been an act of guilt to have comply'd. He himself sufficiently vindicates her in the conclusion of his speech, where he extols her above all the race of womankind: so that the seeming inconsistence of
Penelope
must be imputed to the necessity of her affairs: she is artful, but not criminal.
The original says, she deceiv'd the Suitors by her messages; a plain intimation, that she us'd no extraordinary familiarities with her Admirers; and thro' the whole course of the Poem she seldom appears in their Assemblies.
XIV.
VERSE 109.
Cease, 'till to great
Laertes
I bequeath
A task of grief, his ornaments of death.
It was an ancient custom to dedicate the finest pieces of Weaving and Embroidery, to honour the funerals of the dead: and these were usually wrought by the nearest relations in their life-time. Thus in the 22d
Iliad, Andromache
laments, that the body of
Hector
must be exposed to the air, without those ornaments.
—
And the mother of
Euryalus
in
Virgil,
to her son.
—Nec te tua funera mater
Produxi, pressive oculos, aut vulnera lavi,
Veste tegens, tibi quam noctes festina diesque
Urgebam, & tela curas solabar aniles.
XV.
VERSE 140.
She shines with fatal excellence, to thee.
]
Eustathius
observes, that
Antinous
in the opening of his Speech throws the fault upon
Penelope,
to engage the favour of the multitude: But being conscious that he had said things which
Penelope
would resent, he extols her in the conclusion of it. He ascribes an obstinacy of virtue to her, and by this double conduct endeavours to make both
Penelope
and the multitude his friends.
XVI.
VERSE 147.
Telemachus
's reply.
]
Telemachus
every where speaks with an openness and bravery of spirit; this speech is a testimony of it, as well as his former; he answers chiefly to the dismission of
Penelope,
says it would be an offence against Heaven and Earth; and concludes with a vehemence of expression, and tells
Antinous
that such a word,
shall never fall from his tongue.
The Critics have found fault with one part of the speech, as betraying a spirit of avarice and meanness in
Telemachus:
How to
Icarius
in the bridal hour
Shall I, by waste undone, refund the dow'r?
They think it unworthy of
Telemachus
to make the Dower of
Penelope
an argument against her dismission, and consequently ascribe his detention of her, not to duty, but to covetousness. To take away this objection they point the verses in a different manner, and place a stop after
, and then the sense runs thus;
"I cannot consent to dismiss her who bore me, and nurs'd me in my infancy, while her husband is absent, or perhaps dead; besides, hard would be the Punishment I should suffer, if I should voluntarily send away
Penelope
to
Icarius.
"
Dacier
dislikes this solution, and appeals to the customs of those Ages, to justify her opinion: If a son forc'd away his mother from his house, he was obliged to restore her dower, and all she brought in marriage to her husband: But if she retir'd voluntarily to engage in a second marriage, the dower remain'd with the son as lawful heir. This opinion of
Dacier
may be confirm'd from
Demosthenes
in his orations,
.
Afterwards upon the decease of her husband, leaving his family, and receiving back her portion,
&c. The same Author adds, that the reason why the Suitors are so urgent to send away
Penelope,
is that she may chuse to marry some one of them, rather than return to
Icarius
; so that
Telemachus
only takes hold of their argument for her dismission, in order to detain her. They address'd
Penelope
more for the sake of her riches than her beauty, (for she must be about forty years old) and he tells them, that if he sends her away against her consent, he must restore those riches, which they covet more than the person of
Penelope.
This I confess is very refin'd; and perhaps it may be sufficient to take off the objection of covetousness in
Telemachus,
to understand no more than what the words at the first view seem to imply,
viz.
an abhorrence of their riots, describ'd by
Telemachus
to have risen to such a degree as to have almost ruin'd his kingdom, and made their demands impossible. I see nothing unnatural or mean in this interpretation, especially if we remember that the prodigious disorders of his family enter into the essence of the Poem. The greater the disorders are, the greater are the sufferings of
Ulysses.
XVII.
VERSE 155.
How from my father should I vengeance dread.
]
There is an ambiguity in the word Father; it may either signify
Icarius
or
Ulysses,
as
Eustathius
observes: but I think the context determines the person to be
Ulysses
; for
Telemachus
believes him to be yet living, and consequently might fear his vengeance, if he offer'd any indignity to
Penelope.
XVIII.
VERSE 157.
And while in wrath to vengeful Fiends she cries,
How from their hell would vengeful Fiends arise?
]
In the ninth
Iliad
we are told that the father of
Phaenix
imprecated the Furies against his son,
My sire with curses loads my hated head,
And cries
"
Ye Furies! barren be his bed.
Infernal
Jove
, the vengeful Fiends below,
And ruthless
Proserpine
, confirm'd his vow.
In the same book the Furies hear the curses of
Althea
upon her son,
She beat the ground, and call'd the Pow'rs beneath,
On her own son to wreak her brother's death.
Hell heard her curses from the realms profound,
And the fell Fiends who walk the nightly round.
These passages shew the opinion the Ancients had of the honour due from children to parents, to be such, that they believ'd there were Furies particularly commission'd to punish those who fail'd in that respect, and to fullfil the imprecations made against 'em by their offended parents. There is a greatness in this Idea, and it must have had an effect upon the obedience of the youth. We see
Telemachus
is full of the sense of it.
Dacier.
XIX.
VERSE 171.
&c.
The Prodigy of the two Eagles.
]
This prodigy is usher'd in very magnificently, and the verses are lofty and sonorous. The Eagles are
Ulysses
and
Telemachus
;
By
Jove
's command
they fly
from a mountain's height
: this denotes that the two Heroes are inspir'd by
Jupiter,
and come from the country to the destruction of the Suitors: The eagles fly
with wing to wing conjoyn'd
; this shews, that they act in concert, and unity of councils: At first they
float upon the wind
; this implies the calmness and secresy of the approach of those Heroes: At last they
clang their wings and hovering beat the skies
; this shews the violence of the assault:
With ardent eyes the rival train they threat.
This, as the Poet himself interprets it, denotes the approaching fate of the Suitors.
Then failing o'er the domes and tow'rs they fly Full toward the east
; this signifies that the Suitors alone are not doom'd to destruction, but that the men of
Ithaca
are involv'd in danger, as
Halitherses
interprets it.
Nor to the Great alone is death decreed;
We, and our guilty
Ithaca
must bleed.
See here the natural explication of this prodigy, which is very ingenious!
Eustathius, verbatim.
XX.
VERSE 203.
I see (I cry'd) his woes—
I see his friends o'erwhelm'd,
&c.
In three lines (observes
Eustathius
) the Poet gives us the whole
Odyssey
in Miniature: And it is wonderful to think, that so plain a subject should produce such variety in the process of it.
Aristotle
observes the simplicity of
Homer
's platform; which is no more than this: A Prince is absent from his country;
Neptune
destroys his companions; in his absence his family is disorder'd by many Princes that address his wife, and plot against the life of his only son: but at last after many storms he returns, punishes the Suitors, and re-establishes his affairs: This is all that is essential to the Poem, the rest of it is made up of Episodes. And yet with what miracles of Poetry, (
speciosa miracula,
as
Horace
stiles them,) has he furnish'd out his Poem?
XXI.
VERSE 207.
The speech of
Eurymachus.]
It has been observ'd, that
Homer
is the father of Oratory as well as Poetry; and it must be confess'd, that there is not any one branch of it that is not to be found in his Poetry. The Invective, Persuasive, Ironical,
&c.
may all be gather'd from it. Nothing can be better adapted to the purpose than this speech of
Eurymachus
: He is to decry the credit of the predictions of
Halitherses
: he derides, he threats, and describes him as a venal Prophet. He is speaking to the multitude, and endeavours to bring
Halitherses
into contempt, and in order to it he uses him contemptuously.
XXII.
VERSE 239.—
all the
Greeks
have heard my wrongs.
]
It is necessary for the Reader to carry in his mind, that this Assembly consists not only of the Peers, but of the People of
Ithaca
: For to the People
Telemachus
here appeals.
It is evident, that the place of the Assembly was at least open to the Air in the upper parts: for otherways how should the Eagles be visible to the Suitors? and so very plainly as to be discover'd to threat them with their eyes? There was no doubt a place set apart for Council, usually in the market: For
Telemachus
is said to seat himself in his Father's throne, in the beginning of this book: But
Ulysses
had been absent twenty years; and therefore it is evident, that his throne had stood in the same place for the space of twenty years. It is past contradiction, that in
Athens
and other cities of
Greece
there were
, public Halls for the consultation of affairs.
XXIII.
VERSE 254.
Mentor
arose,
Ulysses'
faithful friend.
]
The name of
Mentor
is another instance of the gratitude of our Poet's temper, it being the same which belong'd to a friend of his by whom he was entertain'd in
Ithaca,
during a defluxion on his eyes which seiz'd him in his voyages: and at whose house he is said to have laid the plan of this Poem. This character of
Mentor
is well sustain'd by his speech, and by the assistance he gratefully gives to young
Telemachus
on all occasions.
XXIV.
VERSE 258.
Guard thou my Sire, and his behests obey.
]
The original says only,
"
Obey the old man.
Eustathius
rightly determines, that the expression means
Laertes.
The Poet loses no opportunity of giving
Ulysses
an excellent character; this is as necessary as continually to repeat the disorders of the Suitors.
—Servetur ad imum
Qualis ab incoepto processerit, & sibi constet.
This conduct contributes admirably to the design of the Poem; and when the Poet in the unravelling of his Fable comes to reward and punish the chief actors, we acknowledge his justice in the death of the Suitors, and re-establishment of
Ulysses.
XXV.
VERSE 282.
While the bowl circles, and the banquet warms.
]
The original is not without obscurity: it says,
: or,
in the time of the banquet. Eustathius
interprets it,
,
The Wine as it were fighting on their side
; and this agrees with what follows.
The design of this speech is to deter the people of
Ithaca
from rising in the cause of
Ulysses
:
Mentor
speaks justly;
Leocritus
insolently:
Mentor
sets before them the worth of
Ulysses
;
Leocritus
the power of the Suitors:
Mentor
speaks like a brave man;
Leocritus
(observes
Eustathius
) like a coward, who wanting true courage flies to the assistance of wine to raise a false one.
Perhaps it may be objected, that there is not a sufficient distinction in the characters of the several Suitors; they are all describ'd as insolent voluptuaries. But tho' they agree in this general character, yet there is something distinguishing in the particular persons: Thus
Antinous
derides,
Eurymachus
covers villany with mildness;
Antinous
is ever the foremost in outrage,
Eurymachus
generally his second: A greater distinction is neither necessary, nor possible to be represented. What the Poet is to describe, is the insolence of the Suitors, and the disorders they create in his family and kingdom; he is oblig'd to dwell upon these circumstances, because they are essential to his design: and consequently that general resemblance of their characters, is not a fault in the Poet.
XXVI.
VERSE 291.
Then, with a rushing sound,
&c.]
The Assembly which was conven'd by
Telemachus,
is broke up in a riotous manner by
Leocritus,
who had no right to dissolve it. This agrees with the lawless state of the country in the absence of its King, and shews (says
Eustathius
) that the Suitors had usurp'd the chief Authority.
There is a fine contraste between the behaviour of
Telemachus
and that of the Suitors. They return to repeat their disorders and debauches;
Telemachus
retires to supplicate the Goddess of Wisdom, to assist him in his enterprizes. Thus the Poet raises the character of
Telemachus
; he has shew'd him to be a youth of a brave spirit, a good Speaker, and here represents him as a person of piety.
XXVII.
VERSE 307.
The speech of
Minerva.]
This speech of
Minerva
is suited to encourage a young man to imitate the virtue of his father, and not to suffer himself to be overcome by any appearance of difficulties. She sets his father before his eyes, and tells him, there was never any danger which he durst not encounter; if he should suffer himself to be discouraged, he would prove himself an unworthy son of a brave Father.
Dacier. Eustathius.
XXVIII.
VERSE 341.
Antinous
's speech.
]
This speech must be understood ironically:
is us'd as before, and has relation to the preceding harangues of
Telemachus
to the people, and his intended voyage; by way of derision
Antinous
bids him not trouble his brave Spirit in contriving any more Orations, or in any bold attempt to find out
Ulysses
; or to act the Orator, or Heroe's part.
The Critics have almost generally condemn'd these pieces of gayety and raillery, as unworthy of heroic Poetry: if ever they are proper, they must be so in the mouths of these Suitors; persons of no serious, or noble characters: Mirth, wine, and feasting is their constant employment; and consequently if they fall into absurdities, they act suitably to their characters.
Milton,
the best and greatest imitator of
Homer,
has followed him unworthily in this respect; I mean, has debased even this low raillery into greater lowness, by playing upon words and syllables. But in this place the raillery is not without its effect, by shewing the utmost contempt of
Telemachus
; and surely it is the lowest degree of calamity to be at once oppress'd and despis'd.
XXIX.
VERSE 368.
To
Pyle
or
Sparta
to demand supplies.
]
It is observable, says
Eustathius,
that the Poet had in his choice several expedients to bring about the destruction of the Suitors, but he rejects them, and chuses the most difficult method, out of reverence to truth, being unwilling to falsify the Histories of
Sparta
and
Pylos.
This has a double effect; it furnishes the Poet with a series of noble incidents; and also gives an air of probability to the story of
Ulysses
and
Telemachus.
XXX.
VERSE 378.
The royal Palace to the Queen convey.
]
The Suitors allot the Palace to
Penelope
: it being, says
Eustathius,
the only thing that they cannot consume; and adds, that the expression of the Suitors concerning the labour they should undergo in dividing the substance of
Ulysses,
shews the wealth and abundance of that Heroe.
Dacier
has found out an allusion between
in the first speech, and
in the second; they differing only in one letter: She calls this a beauty, which she laments she cannot preserve in her translation. She is the only Commentator that ever was quick-sighted enough to make the discovery. The words have no relation; they stand at a sufficient distance; and I believe
Homer
would have thought such trifling unworthy of his Poetry. So that all the honour which accrues from that observation must be ascrib'd (in this case, as in many others) to the Commentator, and not the Author.
XXXI.
VERSE 381.
Where lay the treasures of th'
Ithacian
race.
]
Such passages as these have ever furnish'd Critics with matter of raillery: They think such houshold cares unworthy of a King, and that this conduct suits better with vulgar persons of less fortune. I confess, such descriptions now would be ridiculous in a Poet, because unsuitable to our manners. But if we look upon such passages as pictures and exact representations of the old world, the Reader will find a sensible pleasure in them.
It is a true observation, that the
Iliad
is chiefly suitable to the condition of Kings and Heroes; and consequently fill'd with circumstances in which the greatest part of mankind can have no concern or interest: The
Odyssey
is of more general use; the story of it is a series of calamities, which concern every man, as every man may feel them. We can bring the sufferings of
Ulysses
in some degree home to our selves, and make his condition our own; but what private person can ever be in the circumstances of
Agamemnon
or
Achilles?
What I would infer from this is, that the Reader ought not to take offence at any such descriptions, which are only mean as they differ from the fashions of the latter ages. In the
Iliad, Achilles
when he acts in the common offices of life, and not as an Heroe, is liable to the same objection. But if the manners of the antient ages be consider'd, we shall be reconcil'd to the actions of the antient Heroes; and consequently to
Homer.
XXXII.
VERSE 394.—
Oh thou, whose guardian care
Nurs'd the most wretched King.
]
Euryclea
was not properly the Nurse of
Telemachus,
but of
Ulysses
; so that she is call'd so not in a strict sense, but as one concern'd in his education from his infancy, and as a general appellation of honour.
Telemachus
here reserves the best wines for
Ulysses
; a lesson, (observes
Eustathius
) that even in the smallest matters we ought to pay a deference to our parents. These occasional and seemingly-trivial circumstances are not without their use, if not as poetical ornaments, yet as moral instructions.
XXXIII.
VERSE 421.
'Till twice six times descends the lamp of day.
]
It may be demanded how it was probable, (if possible) that the departure of
Telemachus
could be conceal'd twelve days from the knowledge of so fond a mother as
Penelope?
It must be allow'd, that this would not be possible except in a time of such great disorder as the Suitors created:
Penelope
confin'd herself almost continually within her own apartment, and very seldom appear'd publickly; so that there is no improbability in this relation.
Dacier.
It may be added, that tho'
Telemachus
enjoyn'd secrecy for twelve days, yet he intended a very speedy return: and we find that he actually return'd in a much shorter space than twelve days; so that the strictness of the injunction proceeds solely from filial love, and was only cautionary against accidents that might detain him longer.
Eustathius
makes a criticism upon the words
and
, the former is used negatively, the latter affirmatively; namely, the former in swearing
not to perform
a thing, the latter
to perform it.
XXXIV.
VERSE 432.
She bids the Mariners,
&c.]
It is probable that this passage of
Minerva
preparing the Mariners,
&c.
is thus to be understood: The men of
Ithaca,
retaining in memory the speech of
Telemachus,
and believing that what he then said, and now requests, was agreeable to justice; and having as it were his image graven upon their hearts; voluntarily resolve to lend him assistance: So that
Minerva
is to be taken allegorically, to imply that it was every person's own Reason that induced him to assist
Telemachus.
Eustathius.
XXXV.
VERSE 435.
Noemon—
the Bark supplies.
]
It may be ask'd why this particularity is necessary, and may it not be thought that such a little circumstance is insignificant? The answer is, that a great deal depends upon this particularity; no less than the discovery of the voyage of
Telemachus
to the Suitors; and consequently, whatever the Suitors act in order to intercept him takes its rise from this little incident; the fountain is indeed small, but a large stream of Poetry flows from it.
XXXVI.
VERSE 444.
There every eye with flumbrous chains she bound.
]
The words in the original are
and
, which are not to be taken for being
asleep,
but
drowzy
; this is evident from the usage of
, in the conclusion of the first book of the
Iliad,
where the signification has been mistaken by most translators: They make
Jupiter
there to be asleep; tho' two lines afterwards, in the second book,
Homer
expresly says,
Th' Immortals slumber'd on their thrones above:
All, but the ever-waking eyes of
Jove.
It may be ask'd how
Minerva
can be said to occasion this drowziness in the Suitors, and make them retire sooner than usual?
Eustathius
replies, that the person who furnish'd the wine supply'd it in greater quantities than ordinary, thro' which wine they contracted a drowziness: In this sense
Minerva,
or Wisdom, may be said to assist the designs of
Telemachus.
XXXVII.
VERSE 460.
She bids fresh breezes blow.
]
This also is an allegory, and implies that the sailors had the experience and art to guide the ship before the winds; but Poetry, that delights to raise every circumstance, exalts it into the marvellous, and ascribes it to the Goddess of Wisdom.
Eustathius.
XXXVIII.
VERSE 464.
With speed the mast they rear,
&c.]
It is observable, that
Homer
never passes by an opportunity of describing the sea, or a ship under sail; (and in many other places, as well as in this, he dwells largely upon it:) I take the reason to be, not only because it furnish'd him with variety of poetical images, but because he himself having made frequent voyages, had a full Idea of it, and consequently was delighted with it: This is evident from his conduct in the
Iliad,
were variety of allusions and similitudes are drawn from the Sea, and are not the smallest ornaments of his Poetry.
XXXIX.
VERSE 470.—
And crown with wine
The holy Goblet to the Pow'rs divine.
]
This custom of libations was frequent upon all solemn occasions, before meat, before sleep, voyages, journies; and in all religious rites, sacrifices,
&c.
They were always made with wine, pure and unmix'd, whence
is a word frequent in antient Authors. Sometimes they used mixed wine in Sacrifices; but
Eustathius
says, that this mixture was of wine with wine, and not of wine with water; hence came the distinction of
, and
, the unlawful and lawful libation; wine unmix'd was lawful, the mix'd unlawful.
Homer
in this place uses
, or
Goblets crown'd with wine
; that is, fill'd 'till the wine stood above the brim of the Goblet: they esteem'd it an irreverence to the Gods not to fill the cups full, for then only they esteem'd the libation
whole
and
perfect,
, and then only worthy of the Gods.
This Book takes up the space of one day and one night: it opens with the morning; the speeches in the Council, with the preparations for the voyage of
Telemachus,
are the subject of the day; and the voyage is finish'd by the next morning. By this last circumstance we may learn that
Ithaca
was distant from
Pylos
but one night's voyage, nay something less, there being some time spent after the setting of the Sun, in carrying the provisions from the Palace to the vessel.
The book consists chiefly in the speeches of
Telemachus
and his friends, against those of the Suitors. It shews the great judgment of the Poet in chusing this method: hence we see the causes preceding the effects; and know from what spring every action flow'd: we are never at a loss for a reason for every incident; the speeches are as it were the ground-work upon which he builds all that relates to the adventures of
Telemachus.
In the
Iliad,
after the dissolution of the Council in the first book, and the dissension between
Agamemnon
and
Achilles,
we immediately see upon what hinge the fable turns. So in the
Odyssey,
after the Poet has laid before us the warm debates between the Suitors and
Telemachus,
we immediately expect them to act as enemies: The war is declar'd, and we become judges as well as spectators of the scenes of action. Thus
Homer
adds the perspicuity of History to the ornaments of Poetry.
THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.
The ARGUMENT.
The Interview of
Telemachus
and
Nestor.
Telemachus,
guided by
Pallas
in the shape of
Mentor,
arrives in the morning at
Pylos
; where
Nestor
and his sons are sacrificing on the sea-shore to
Neptune. Telemachus
declares the occasion of his coming, and
Nestor
relates what past in their return from
Troy,
how their fleets were separated, and he never since heard of
Ulysses.
They discourse concerning the death of Agamemnon, the revenge of
Orestes,
and the injuries of the Suitors.
Nestor
advises him to go to
Sparta
and enquire further of
Menelaus.
The sacrifice ending with the night,
Minerva
vanishes from them in the form of an Eagle:
Telemachus
is lodged in the Palace. The next morning they sacrifice a Bullock to
Minerva,
and
Telemachus
proceeds on his journey to
Sparta,
attended by
Pisistratus.
The Scene lies on the sea-shore of
Pylos.
W.K.
P.F.sc.
THE THIRD BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.
T HE sacred Sun, above the waters rais'd,
Thro' Heav'ns eternal, brazen portals blaz'd;
And wide o'er earth diffus'd his chearing ray,
To Gods and men to give the golden day.
Now on the coast of
Pyle
the vessel falls,
Before old
Neleus
' venerable walls.
There, suppliant to the Monarch of the flood,
At nine green Theatres the
Pylians
stood,
Each held five hundred, (a deputed train)
At each, nine oxen on the sand lay slain.
They taste the entrails, and the altars load
With smoaking thighs, an offering to the God.
Full for the port the
Ithacensians
stand,
And furl their sails, and issue on the land.
Telemachus
already prest the shore;
Not first, the Pow'r of Wisdom march'd before,
And ere the sacrificing throng he join'd,
Admonish'd thus his well-attending mind.
Proceed my son! this youthful shame expel;
An honest business never blush to tell.
To learn what fates thy wretched sire detain,
We past the wide, immeasurable main.
Meet then the Senior, far renown'd for sense,
With rev'rent awe, but decent confidence:
Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies;
And sure he will: For Wisdom never lies.
Oh tell me
Mentor!
tell me faithful guide,
(The youth with prudent modesty reply'd)
How shall I meet, or how accost the Sage,
Unskill'd in speech, nor yet mature of age?
Awful th'approach, and hard the task appears,
To question wisely men of riper years.
To whom the martial Goddess thus rejoyn'd.
Search, for some thoughts, thy own suggesting mind;
And others, dictated by heav'nly pow'r,
Shall rise spontaneous in the needful hour.
For nought unprosp'rous shall thy ways attend,
Born with good omens, and with heav'n thy friend.
She spoke, and led the way with swiftest speed:
As swift, the youth pursu'd the way she led;
And join'd the band before the sacred fire,
Where sate, encompast with his sons, the Sire.
The youth of
Pylos,
some on pointed wood
Transfix'd the fragments, some prepar'd the food.
In friendly throngs they gather, to embrace
Their unknown guests, and at the banquet place.
Pisistratus
was first, to grasp their hands,
And spread soft hydes upon the yellow sands;
Along the shore th'illustrious pair he led,
Where
Nestor
sate with youthful
Thrasymed.
To each a portion of the Feast he bore,
And held the golden goblet foaming o'er;
Then first approaching to the elder guest,
The latent Goddess in these words addrest.
Whoe'er thou art, whom fortune brings to keep
These rites of
Neptune,
monarch of the deep,
Thee first it fits, oh stranger! to prepare
The due libation and the solemn prayer:
Then give thy friend to shed the sacred wine;
Tho' much thy younger, and his years like mine,
He too, I deem, implores the pow'rs divine:
For all mankind alike require their grace,
All born to want; a miserable race!
He spake, and to her hand preferr'd the bowl:
A secret pleasure touch'd
Athena
's soul,
To see the pref'rence due to sacred age
Regarded ever by the just and sage.
Of Ocean's King she then implores the grace.
Oh thou! whose arms this ample globe embrace,
Fullfil our wish, and let thy glory shine
On
Nestor
first, and
Nestor
's royal line;
Next grant the
Pylian
states their just desires,
Pleas'd with their Hecatomb's ascending fires;
Last deign
Telemachus
and me to bless,
And crown our voyage with desir'd success.
Thus she; and having paid the rite divine,
Gave to
Ulysses
' son the rosie wine.
Suppliant he pray'd. And now the victims drest
They draw, they part, and celebrate the feast.
The banquet done, the Narrative old man
Thus mild, the pleasing conference began.
Now, gentle guests! the genial banquet o'er,
It fits to ask ye, what your native shore,
And whence your race? on what adventure, say,
Thus far ye wander thro' the watry way?
Relate, if business, or the thirst of gain
Engage your journey o'er the pathless main?
Where savage Pyrates seek thro' seas unknown
The lives of others, vent'rous of their own.
Urg'd by the precepts by the Goddess giv'n,
And fill'd with confidence infus'd from heav'n,
The Youth, whom
Pallas
destin'd to be wise,
And fam'd among the sons of men, replies.
Enquir'st thou, father! from what coast we came?
(Oh grace and glory of the
Grecian
name!)
From where high
Ithaca
o'erlooks the floods,
Brown with o'er-arching shades and pendent woods,
Us to these shores our filial duty draws,
A private sorrow, not a publick cause.
My sire I seek, where-e'er the voice of fame
Has told the glories of his noble name,
The great
Ulysses
; fam'd from shore to shore
For valour much, for hardy suff'ring more.
Long time with thee before proud
Ilion
's wall
In arms he fought; with thee beheld her fall.
Of all the Chiefs, this Heroe's fate alone
Has
Jove
reserv'd, unheard of, and unknown;
Whether in fields by hostile fury slain,
Or sunk by tempests in the gulphy main?
Of this to learn, opprest with tender fears
Lo at thy knee his suppliant son appears.
If or thy certain eye, or curious ear,
Have learnt his fate, the whole dark story clear:
And oh! whate'er heav'n destin'd to betide
Let neither flatt'ry smooth, nor pity hide.
Prepar'd I stand: he was but born to try
The lot of man; to suffer, and to die.
Oh then, if ever thro' the ten years war
The wise, the good
Ulysses
claim'd thy care;
If e'er he join'd thy council, or thy sword,
True in his deed, and constant to his word;
Far as thy mind thro' backward time can see,
Search all thy stores of faithful memory:
'Tis sacred truth I ask, and ask of thee.
To him experienc'd
Nestor
thus rejoin'd.
O friend! what sorrows dost thou bring to mind?
Shall I the long, laborious scenes review,
And open all the wounds of
Greece
anew?
What toils by sea! where dark in quest of prey
Dauntless we rov'd;
Achilles
led the way:
What toils by land! where mixt in fatal fight
Such numbers fell, such Heroes sunk to night:
There
Ajax
great,
Achilles
there the brave,
There wise
Patroclus,
fill an early grave:
There too my son—ah once my best delight,
Once swift of foot, and terrible in fight,
In whom stern courage with soft virtue join'd,
A faultless body, and a blameless mind:
Antilochus
—what more can I relate?
How trace the tedious series of our fate?
Not added years on years my task could close,
The long historian of my country's woes:
Back to thy native Islands might'st thou sail,
And leave half-heard the melancholy tale.
Nine painful years, on that detested shore
What stratagems we form'd, what toils we bore?
Still lab'ring on, 'till scarce at last we found
Great
Jove
propitious, and our conquest crown'd.
Far o'er the rest thy mighty father shin'd,
In wit, in prudence, and in force of mind.
Art thou the son of that illustrious sire?
With joy I grasp thee, and with love admire:
So like your voices, and your words so wise,
Who finds thee younger must consult his eyes.
Thy Sire and I were one; nor vary'd aught
In publick sentence, or in private thought;
Alike to Council or th' Assembly came,
With equal souls, and sentiments the same.
But when (by wisdom won) proud
Ilion
burn'd,
And in their ships the conqu'ring
Greeks
return'd;
'Twas God's high will the victors to divide,
And turn th'event, confounding human pride:
Some he destroy'd, some scatter'd as the dust,
(Not all were prudent, and not all were just)
Then
Discord,
sent by
Pallas
from above,
(Stern daughter of the great Avenger
Jove
)
The Brother-Kings inspir'd with fell debate;
Who call'd to council all th'
Achaian
state,
But call'd untimely (not the sacred rite
Observ'd, nor heedful of the setting light,
Nor herald sworn, the session to proclaim)
Sour with debauch, a reeling tribe, they came.
To these the cause of meeting they explain,
And
Menelaus
moves to cross the main;
Not so the King of Men: he will'd to stay;
The sacred rites and hecatombs to pay,
And calm
Minerva
's wrath. Oh blind to fate!
The Gods not lightly change their love, or hate.
With ire-full taunts each other they oppose,
'Till in loud tumult all the
Greeks
arose:
Now diff'rent counsels ev'ry breast divide,
Each burns with rancour to the adverse side.
Th' unquiet night strange projects entertain'd;
(So
Jove,
that urg'd us to our fate, ordain'd.)
We, with the rising morn our ships unmoor'd,
And brought our captives and our stores aboard;
But half the people with respect obey'd
The King of Men, and at his bidding stay'd.
Now on the wings of winds our course we keep,
(For God had smooth'd the waters of the deep)
For
Tenedos
we spread our eager oars,
There land, and pay due victims to the pow'rs:
To bless our safe return we join in pray'r,
But angry
Jove
dispers'd our vows in air,
And rais'd new discord. Then (so Heav'n decreed)
Ulysses
first and
Nestor
dis-agreed:
Wise as he was, by various Counsels sway'd,
He there, tho' late, to please the Monarch, stay'd.
But I, determin'd, stem the foamy floods,
Warn'd of the coming fury of the Gods.
With us
Tydides
fear'd, and urg'd his haste:
And
Menelaus
came, but came the last.
He join'd our vessels in the
Lesbian
bay,
While yet we doubted of our watry way;
If to the right to urge the pilot's toil,
(The safer road) beside the
Psyrian
isle;
Or the strait course to rocky
Chios
plow,
And anchor under
Mimas
' shaggy brow?
We sought direction of the pow'r divine:
The God propitious gave the guiding sign;
Thro' the mid seas he bids our navy steer,
And in
Eubea
shun the woes we fear.
The whistling winds already wak'd the sky;
Before the whistling winds the vessels fly,
With rapid swiftness cut the liquid way,
And reach
Gerestus
at the point of day.
There hecatombs of bulls to
Neptune
slain
High-flaming please the monarch of the main.
The fourth day shone, when all their labours o'er
Tydides
' vessels touch'd the wish'd-for shore:
But I to
Pylos
scud before the gales,
The God still breathing on my swelling sails;
Sep'rate from all, I safely landed here;
Their fates or fortunes never reach'd my ear.
Yet what I learn'd, attend; as here I sate,
And ask'd each voyager each Hero's fate;
Curious to know, and willing to relate.
Safe reach'd the
Mirmydons
their native land,
Beneath
Achilles
' warlike son's command.
Those, whom the heir of great
Apollo
's art
Brave
Philoctetes,
taught to wing the dart;
And those whom
Idomen
from
Ilion
's plain
Had led, securely crost the dreadful main.
How
Agamemnon
touch'd his
Argive
coast,
And how his life by fraud and force he lost,
And how the Murd'rer pay'd his forfeit breath;
What lands so distant from that scene of death
But trembling heard the Fame? and heard, admire
How well the son appeas'd his slaughter'd sire!
Ev'n to th'unhappy, that unjustly bleed,
Heav'n gives Posterity, t'avenge the deed.
So fell
Aegysthus
; and may'st thou, my friend,
(On whom the virtues of thy sire descend)
Make future times thy equal act adore,
And be, what brave
Orestes
was before!
The prudent youth reply'd. Oh thou, the grace
And lasting glory of the
Grecian
race!
Just was the vengeance, and to latest days
Shall long posterity resound the praise.
Some God this arm with equal prowess bless!
And the proud Suitors shall its force confess:
Injurious men! who while my soul is sore
Of fresh affronts, are meditating more.
But heav'n denies this honour to my hand,
Nor shall my father repossess the land:
The father's fortune never to return,
And the sad son's, to suffer and to mourn!
Thus he, and
Nestor
took the word: My son,
Is it then true, as distant rumours run,
That crowds of rivals for thy mother's charms
Thy Palace fill with insults and alarms?
Say, is the fault, thro' tame submission, thine?
Or leagu'd against thee, do thy people join,
Mov'd by some Oracle, or voice divine?
And yet who knows, but ripening lies in fate
An hour of vengeance for th' afflicted state;
When great
Ulysses
shall suppress these harms,
Ulysses
singly, or all
Greece
in arms.
But if
Athena,
War's triumphant maid,
The happy son, will, as the father, aid,
(Whose fame and safety was her constant care
In ev'ry danger and in ev'ry war:
Never on man did heav'nly favour shine
With rays so strong, distinguish'd, and divine,
As those with which
Minerva
mark'd thy sire)
So might she love thee, so thy soul inspire!
Soon shou'd their hopes in humble dust be laid,
And long oblivion of the bridal bed.
Ah! no such hope (the Prince with sighs replies)
Can touch my breast; that blessing heav'n denies.
Ev'n by celestial favour were it giv'n,
Fortune or fate wou'd cross the will of heav'n.
What words are these, and what imprudence thine?
(Thus interpos'd the Martial maid divine)
Forgetful youth! but know, the Pow'r above
With ease can save each object of his love;
Wide as his will, extends his boundless grace;
Nor lost in time, nor circumscrib'd by place.
Happier his lot, who, many sorrows past,
Long-lab'ring gains his natal shore at last;
Than who too speedy, hastes to end his life
By some stern ruffian, or adultrous wife.
Death only is the lot which none can miss,
And all is possible to heav'n, but this.
The best, the dearest fav'rite of the sky
Must taste that cup, for man is born to die.
Thus check'd, reply'd
Ulysses
' prudent heir:
Mentor,
no more—the mournful thought forbear;
For he no more must draw his country's breath,
Already snatch'd by Fate, and the black doom of death!
Pass we to other subjects; and engage
On themes remote the venerable Sage:
(Who thrice has seen the perishable kind
Of men decay, and thro' three Ages shin'd,
Like Gods majestic, and like Gods in mind.)
For much he knows, and just conclusions draws
From various precedents, and various laws.
O son of
Neleus
! awful
Nestor,
tell
How he, the mighty,
Agamemnon
fell?
By what strange fraud
Aegysthus
wrought, relate,
(By force he could not) such a Heroe's fate?
Liv'd
Menelaus
not in
Greece?
or where
Was then the martial brother's pious care?
Condemn'd perhaps some foreign shore to tread;
Or sure
Aegysthus
had not dar'd the deed.
To whom the Full of Days. Illustrious youth,
Attend (tho' partly thou hast guest) the truth.
For had the martial
Menelaus
found
The ruffian breathing yet on
Argive
ground;
Nor earth had hid his carcase from the skies,
Nor
Grecian
virgins shriek'd his obsequies,
But fowls obscene dismember'd his remains,
And dogs had torn him on the naked plains.
While us the works of bloody
Mars
employ'd,
The wanton youth inglorious peace enjoy'd;
He, stretch'd at ease in
Argos
' calm recess,
(Whose stately steeds luxuriant pastures bless)
With flattery's insinuating art
Sooth'd the frail Queen, and poyson'd all her heart.
At first with worthy shame and decent pride,
The royal dame his lawless suit deny'd.
For Virtue's image yet possest her mind,
Taught by a Master of the tuneful kind:
Atrides,
parting for the
Trojan
war,
Consign'd the youthful Consort to his care;
True to his charge, the Bard preserv'd her long
In honour's limits (such the pow'r of Song)
But when the Gods these objects of their hate
Dragg'd to destruction, by the links of fate;
The bard they banish'd from his native soil,
And left all helpless in a desart Isle:
There he, the sweetest of the sacred train,
Sung dying to the rocks, but sung in vain.
Then Virtue was no more (her guard away)
She fell, to lust a voluntary prey.
Ev'n to the temple stalk'd th' adult'rous spouse,
With impious thanks, and mockery of vows,
With images, with garments, and with gold,
And od'rous fumes from loaded altars roll'd.
Mean time from flaming
Troy
we cut the way,
With
Menelaus,
thro' the curling sea.
But when to
Sunium
's sacred point we came,
Crown'd with the temple of th'
Athenian
dame;
Atrides
' pilot,
Phrontes,
there expir'd;
(
Phrontes,
of all the sons of men admir'd
To steer the bounding bark with steddy toil,
When the storm thickens, and the billows boil)
While yet he exercis'd the steerman's art,
Apollo
touch'd him with his gentle dart;
Ev'n with the rudder in his hand, he fell.
To pay whose honours to the Shades of hell
We check'd our haste, by pious office bound,
And laid our old companion in the ground.
And now, the rites discharg'd, our course we keep
Far on the gloomy bosom of the deep:
Soon as
Malaea
's misty tops arise,
Sudden the Thund'rer blackens all the skies,
And the winds whistle, and the surges roll
Mountains on mountains, and obscure the pole.
The tempest scatters, and divides our fleet;
Part, the storm urges on the coast of
Creet,
Where winding round the rich
Cydonian
plain,
The streams of
Jardan
issue to the main.
There stands a rock, high eminent and steep,
Whose shaggy brow o'erhangs the shady deep,
And views
Gortyna
on the western side;
On this, rough
Auster
drove th'impetuous tyde:
With broken force the billows rowl'd away,
And heav'd the fleet into the neighb'ring bay.
Thus sav'd from death they gain'd the
Phaestan
shores,
With shatter'd vessels, and disabled oars:
But five tall barks the winds and waters tost
Far from their fellows, on th'
Aegyptian
coast.
There wander'd
Menelaus
thro' foreign shores,
Amassing gold, and gath'ring naval stores;
While curst
Aegysthus
the detested deed
By fraud fulfill'd, and his great brother bled.
Sev'n years, the traytor rich
Mycenae
sway'd,
And his stern rule the groaning land obey'd;
The eighth, from
Athens
to his realm restor'd,
Orestes
brandish'd the revenging sword,
Slew the dire pair, and gave to fun'ral flame
The vile assassin, and adult'rous dame.
That day, ere yet the bloody triumphs cease,
Return'd
Atrides
to the coast of
Greece,
And safe to
Argos
' port his navy brought,
With gifts of price and pond'rous treasure fraught.
Hence warn'd, my son beware! nor idly stand
Too long a stranger to thy native land;
Lest heedless absence wear thy wealth away,
While lawless feasters in thy palace sway;
Perhaps may seize thy realm, and share the spoil;
And thou return, with disappointed toil,
From thy vain journey, to a rifled Isle.
Howe'er, my friend, indulge one labour more,
And seek
Atrides
on the
Spartan
shore.
He, wand'ring long, a wider circle made,
And many-languag'd nations has survey'd;
And measur'd tracts unknown to other ships,
Amid the monstrous wonders of the deeps;
(A length of Ocean and unbounded sky,
Which scarce the sea-fowl in a year o'erfly)
Go then; to
Sparta
take the watry way,
Thy ship and sailors but for orders stay;
Or if by land thou chuse thy course to bend,
My steeds, my chariots, and my sons attend:
Thee to
Atrides
they shall safe convey,
Guides of thy road, companions of thy way.
Urge him with truth to frame his free replies,
And sure he will, for
Menelas
is wise.
Thus while he speaks, the ruddy sun descends,
And twylight gray her evening shade extends.
Then thus the blue-ey'd Maid: O full of days!
Wise are thy words, and just are all thy ways.
Now immolate the Tongues, and mix the wine,
Sacred to
Neptune
and the pow'rs divine.
The lamp of day is quench'd beneath the deep,
And soft approach the balmy hours of sleep:
Nor fits it to prolong the heav'nly feast
Timeless, indecent, but retire to rest.
So spake
Jove
's daughter, the celestial maid.
The sober train attended and obey'd.
The sacred heralds on their hands around
Pour'd the full urns; the youths the goblets crown'd:
From bowl to bowl the holy bev'rage flows;
While to the final sacrifice they rose.
The tongues they cast upon the fragrant flame,
And pour, above, the consecrated stream.
And now, their thirst by copious draughts allay'd,
The youthful Hero and th'
Athenian
maid
Propose departure from the finish'd rite,
And in their hollow bark to pass the night:
But this the hospitable Sage denied.
Forbid it,
Jove
! and all the Gods! he cried,
Thus from my walls the much-lov'd son to send
Of such a heroe, and of such a friend?
Me, as some needy peasant, would ye leave,
Whom heav'n denies the blessing to relieve?
Me would ye leave, who boast imperial sway,
When beds of royal state invite your stay?
No—long as life this mortal shall inspire,
Or as my children imitate their sire,
Here shall the wand'ring stranger find his home,
And hospitable rites adorn the dome.
Well hast thou spoke (the blue-ey'd maid replies)
Belov'd old man! benevolent as wise.
Be the kind dictates of thy heart obey'd,
And let thy words
Telemachus
persuade:
He to thy palace shall thy steps pursue;
I to the ship, to give the orders due,
Prescribe directions, and confirm the crew.
For I alone sustain their naval cares,
Who boast experience from these silver hairs;
All Youths the rest, whom to this journey move
Like years, like tempers, and their Prince's love.
There in the vessel shall I pass the night;
And soon as morning paints the fields of light,
I go to challenge, from the
Caucons
bold,
A debt, contracted in the days of old.
But this thy guest, receiv'd with friendly care,
Let thy strong coursers swift to
Sparta
bear;
Prepare thy chariot at the dawn of day,
And be thy son companion of his way.
Then turning with the word,
Minerva
flies,
And soars an Eagle thro' the liquid skies.
Vision divine! The throng'd spectators gaze
In holy wonder fixt, and still amaze.
But chief the rev'rend Sage admir'd; he took
The hand of young
Telemachus,
and spoke.
Oh happy Youth! and favour'd of the skies,
Distinguish'd care of guardian deities!
Whose early years for future worth engage,
No vulgar manhood, no ignoble age.
For lo! none other of the court above,
Than she, the daughter of almighty
Jove,
Pallas
herself, the War-triumphant Maid,
Confest, is thine, as once thy father's aid.
So guide me, Goddess! so propitious shine
On me, my consort, and my royal line!
A yearling bullock to thy name shall smoke,
Untam'd, unconscious of the galling yoke;
With ample forehead, and yet tender horns
Whose budding honours ductile gold adorns.
Submissive thus the hoary Sire preferr'd
His holy vow: the fav'ring Goddess heard.
Then slowly rising, o'er the sandy space
Precedes the father, follow'd by his race,
(A long procession) timely marching home
In comely order to the regal dome.
There when arriv'd, on thrones around him plac'd,
His sons and grand-sons the wide circle grac'd.
To these the hospitable Sage, in sign
Of social welcome, mix'd the racy wine,
(Late from the mellowing cask restor'd to light,
By ten long years refin'd, and rosy-bright.)
To
Pallas
high the foaming bowl he crown'd,
And sprinkled large Libation on the ground.
Each drinks a full oblivion of his cares,
And to the gifts of balmy sleep repairs.
Deep in a rich Alcove the Prince was laid,
And slept beneath the pompous Colonnade;
Fast by his side
Pisistratus
lay spread,
(In age his equal) on a splendid bed:
But in an inner court, securely clos'd,
The rev'rend
Nestor
with his Queen repos'd.
When now
Aurora,
daughter of the dawn,
With rosie lustre purpled o'er the lawn;
The old man early rose, walk'd forth, and sate
On polish'd stone before his Palace gate:
With unguents smooth the lucid marble shone,
Where antient
Neleus
sate, a rustic throne;
But he descending to th' infernal shade,
Sage
Nestor
fill'd it, and the sceptre sway'd.
His sons around him mild obeysance pay,
And duteous take the orders of the day.
First
Echephron
and
Stratius
quit their bed;
Then
Perseus, Aretus,
and
Thrasymed
;
The last
Pisistratus
arose from rest:
They came, and near him plac'd the stranger-guest.
To these the Senior thus declar'd his will:
My sons! the dictates of your sire fulfil.
To
Pallas,
first of Gods, prepare the feast,
Who grac'd our rites, a more than mortal guest.
Let one, dispatchful, bid some swain to lead
A well-fed bullock from the grassy mead;
One seek the harbour where the vessels moor,
And bring thy friends,
Telemachus!
a-shore,
(Leave only two the gally to attend)
Another to
Laerceus
must we send,
Artist divine, whose skilful hands infold
The victim's horn with circumfusile gold.
The rest may here the pious duty share,
And bid the handmaids for the feast prepare,
The seats to range, the fragrant wood to bring,
And limpid waters from the living spring.
He said, and busy each his care bestow'd;
Already at the gates the bullock low'd,
Already came the
Ithacensian
crew,
The dextrous smith the tools already drew:
His pond'rous hammer, and his anvil sound,
And the strong tongs to turn the metal round.
Nor was
Minerva
absent from the rite,
She view'd her honours, and enjoy'd the sight.
With rev'rent hand the King presents the gold,
Which round th'intorted horns the gilder roll'd;
So wrought, as
Pallas
might with pride behold.
Young
Aretus
from forth his bridal bow'r
Brought the full laver, o'er their hands to pour,
And canisters of consecrated flour.
Stratius
and
Echephron
the victim led;
The axe was held by warlike
Thrasymed,
In act to strike: Before him
Perseus
stood,
The vase extending to receive the blood.
The King himself initiates to the Pow'r;
Scatters with quiv'ring hand the sacred flour,
And the stream sprinkles: From the curling brows
The hair collected in the fire he throws.
Soon as due vows on ev'ry part were pay'd,
And sacred wheat upon the victim lay'd,
Strong
Thrasymed
discharg'd the speeding blow
Full on his neck, and cut the nerves in two.
Down sunk the heavy beast: the females round
Maids, wives, and matrons, mix a shrilling sound.
Nor scorn'd the Queen the holy Choir to join,
(The first-born she, of old
Clymenus
' line;
In youth by
Nestor
lov'd, of spotless fame,
And lov'd in age,
Eurydicé
her name)
From earth they rear him, struggling now with death;
And
Nestor
's Youngest stops the vents of breath.
The soul for ever flies: on all sides round
Streams the black blood, and smokes upon the ground.
The beast they then divide, and dis-unite
The ribs and limbs, observant of the rite:
On these, in double cawls involv'd with art,
The choicest morsels lay from ev'ry part.
The sacred Sage before his altar stands,
Turns the burnt-off'ring with his holy hands,
And pours the wine, and bids the flames aspire:
The youth with instruments surround the fire.
The thighs now sacrific'd, and entrails drest,
Th'assistants part, transfix, and broil the rest.
While these officious tend the rites divine,
The last fair branch of the
Nestorean
line
Sweet
Polycaste,
took the pleasing toil
To bathe the Prince, and pour the fragrant oil.
O'er his fair limbs a flow'ry vest he threw,
And issu'd, like a God to mortal view.
His former feat beside the King he found,
(His people's Father with his Peers around)
All plac'd at ease the holy banquet join,
And in the dazling goblet laughs the wine.
The rage of thirst and hunger now supprest,
The Monarch turns him to his royal guest;
And for the promis'd journey bids prepare
The smooth-hair'd horses, and the rapid car,
Observant of his word. The word scarce spoke,
The sons obey, and join them to the yoke.
Then bread and wine a ready handmaid brings,
And presents, such as suit the state of Kings.
The glitt'ring seat
Telemachus
ascends;
His faithful guide
Pisistratus
attends:
With hasty hand the ruling reins he drew:
He lash'd the coursers, and the coursers flew.
Beneath the bounding yoke alike they held
Their equal pace, and smoak'd along the held.
The tow'rs of
Pylos
sink, its views decay,
Fields after fields fly back, till close of day:
Then sunk the Sun, and darken'd all the way.
To
Pherae
now,
Diocleus
' stately seat,
(Of
Alpheus
' race) the weary youths retreat.
His house affords the hospitable rite,
And pleas'd they sleep (the blessing of the night.)
But when
Aurora,
daughter of the dawn,
With rosy lustre purpled o'er the lawn;
Again they mount, their journey to renew,
And from the sounding portico they flew.
Along the waving fields their way they hold,
The fields receding as the chariot roll'd:
Then slowly sunk the ruddy globe of light,
And o'er the shaded landscape rush'd the night.
W.K.
P.F.sc.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE THIRD BOOK.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE THIRD BOOK.
I.
T HE Scene is now remov'd from
Ithaca
to
Pylos,
and with it a new vein of Poetry is opened: Instead of the riots of the Suitors, we are entertain'd with the wisdom and piety of
Nestor.
This and the following book are a kind of Supplement to the
Iliad
; the nature of Epic poetry requires that something should be left to the imagination of the Reader, nor is the picture to be entirely drawn at full length.
Homer
therefore, to satisfie our curiosity, gives an account of the fortunes of those great men, who made so noble a figure at the siege of
Troy.
This conduct also shews his art: Variety gives life and delight; and it is much more necessary in Epic than in Comic or Tragic Poetry sometimes to shift the Scenes, to diversify and embellish the story. But as on the stage the Poet ought not to step at once from one part of the world to a too remote country, (for this destroys credibility, and the auditor cannot fancy himself this minute here, and the next a thousand miles distant) so in Epic Poetry, every removal must be within the degrees of probability. We have here a very easy transition; the Poet carries his Heroe no further than he really might sail in the compass of time he allots for his voyage. If he had still dwelt upon the disorders of the Suitors without interruption, he must grow tiresome; but he artfully breaks the thread of their History with beautiful incidents and Episodes, and reserves the further recital of their disorders for the end of his Poem: By this method we sit down with fresh appetite to the entertainment, and rise at last not cloy'd, but satisfied.
II.
VERSE 2.
Thro' Heav'ns eternal, brazen portals
—]
The original calls Heaven
, or
brazen
; the reason of it arises either from the Palaces of the Gods being built of brass by
Vulcan
; or rather the word implies no more than the Stability of Heaven, which for the same reason is in other places call'd
, or
fram'd of iron.
Eustathius.
III.
VERSE 8.
At nine green Theatres.
]
It may be ask'd why the Poet is so very particular as to mention that the
Pylians
were divided into nine assemblies? and may it not seem a circumstance of no importance?
Eustathius
answers from the Antients, that there were nine cities subject to the power of
Nestor
: five in
Pylos,
the rest in
Boeotia
; the Poet therefore allots one Bank or Theatre to every city, which consisted of 500 men, the whole number amounting to 4500: These cities furnish'd the like complement of men to
Nestor
for the war at
Troy
: He sail'd in ninety vessels, and allowing fifty men to each vessel, they amount to that number. Hence it appears that this was a national sacrifice, every city furnish'd nine bulls, and by consequence the whole nation were partakers of it.
IV.
VERSE Ibid.
The sacrifice of the
Pylians.]
This was a very solemn sacrifice of the
Pylians
; How comes it then to pass, that
Homer
passes it over in one line?
Eustathius
answers, that the occasion disallows a longer description, and
Homer
knows when to speak, and when to be silent. He chuses to carry on the adventures of
Telemachus,
rather than amuse himself in descriptions that contribute nothing to the story; he finds a time of more leisure in the latter part of this book, and there he describes it at length.
They taste the entrails
; that is, every person eat a small portion of the sacrifice, and by this method every person became partaker of it.
There is nothing in
Homer
that shews where this sacrifice was offer'd, whether in a Temple, or in the open air. But
Eustathius
tells us from
Strabo,
that it was in the Temple of
Samian Neptune,
.
V.
VERSE 25.
Urge him with truth to frame his fair replies;
And sure he will: For Wisdom never lies.
]
This sentiment is truly noble, and as nobly expressed: the simplicity of the diction corresponds with that of the thought.
Homer
in many places testifies the utmost abhorrence of a Lye. This verse is twice repeated in the present book, as well as in some others; and nothing can be stronger in the same view than that of
Achilles
in the 9th
Iliad,
Who dares think one thing and another tell,
My heart detests him as the gates of hell.
VI.
VERSE 38.
Born with good omens, and with heav'n thy friend.
]
There is some obscurity in the
Greek
expression, and the antient Critics have made it more obscure by their false interpretations; they imagine that the Poet only meant to say that
Telemachus
was the legitimate son of
Penelope
and
Ulysses.
Eustathius.
Dacier
very justly condemns this explication, as unworthy of
Homer
; and gives us a more plain and natural interpretation:
viz.
"You were not born in despight of the Gods, that is, you are well made, and of a good presence, you have good inclinations, and in a word, your birth is happy."
She explains
after the same manner:
"You were not educated in despight of the Gods;"
that is,
"the Gods have blessed your education:"
This explication seems to be just, and answers perfectly the design of
Minerva
; which was to give a decent assurance to
Telemachus.
You are a person, says the Goddess, of a good presence, and happy education, why then should you be ashamed to appear before
Nestor?
VII.
VERSE 48.
And spread soft Hydes upon the yellow sands.
]
It is with pleasure that I read such passages in an Author of so great antiquity, as are pictures of the simplicity of those heroic ages: It is the remark of
Eustathius,
that
Pisistratus
the son of a King does not seat these strangers upon purple Tapestry, or any other costly furniture, but upon the Skins of beasts, that had nothing to recommend them but their softness; being spread upon the sand of the sea-shores.
This whole passage pleases me extremely; there is a spirit of true Devotion, Morality and good Sense in it; and the decency of behaviour between
Nestor
and
Telemachus
is describ'd very happily:
Nestor
shews great benevolence to
Telemachus
;
Telemachus
great reverence to
Nestor:
the modesty of the one, and the humanity of the other, are worthy of our observation. We see the same picture of
Nestor
in the
Odyssey
that was drawn of him in the
Iliads,
with this only difference, that there he was a Counsellor of War, here he is painted in softer colours, ruling his people in peace, and diffusing a spirit of piety thro' his whole territories.
He had now surviv'd the war of
Troy
almost ten years; and the Gods reward the old age of this wise and religious Prince with peace and happiness.
VIII.
VERSE 74.
Last, deign
Telemachus
and me to bless—
]
Since
Minerva
here mentions the name of
Telemachus
in her prayer; how comes it to pass, that
Nestor
is at a loss to know
Telemachus? Minerva
sate close by
Nestor
; he must therefore be suppos'd to hear the prayer; and yet in the following lines he enquires who these strangers are? We can scarce imagine
Nestor
ignorant that the son of
Ulysses
was named
Telemachus,
there being so strict a friendship between
Nestor
and
Ulysses.
Perhaps therefore
Minerva
pray'd in secret mentally; or perhaps
Nestor
might not take notice of what was not addrest immediately to him, and consequently make enquiry about it for the greater certainty.
IX.
VERSE 86.
Relate, if business or the thirst of gain,
&c.]
If we form our images of persons and actions in antient times, from the images of persons and actions in modern ages, we shall fall into great mistakes: Thus in the present passage, if we annex the same idea of Piracy, as it was practis'd three thousand years past, to Piracy as it is practis'd in our ages; what can be a greater affront than this enquiry of
Nestor?
But, says
Eustathius,
Piracy was formerly not only accounted lawful, but honourable. I doubt not but
Thucydides
had this passage in view when he says, that the antient Poets introduce men enquiring of those who frequent the sea, if they be pirates, as a thing no way ignominious.
Thucydides
tells us in the same place that all those who liv'd on the sea-coast, or in the Islands, maintain'd themselves by frequent inrodes upon unfortify'd towns, and if such piracies were nobly perform'd they were accounted glorious.
Herodotus
also writes, that many of the antients, especially about
Thrace,
thought it ignominious to live by labouring the ground, but to live by piracy and plunder was esteem'd a life of honour.
Eustathius.
XI.
VERSE 125.
The speech of
Nestor.]
Eustathius
observes the modesty of
Nestor: Telemachus
had ascrib'd the fall of
Troy
in a great measure to
Nestor
; but
Nestor
speaks not in particular of himself, but is content with his share of glory in common with other warriors; he speaks in the plural number, and joyns all the
Greeks
as in the war, so in the glory of it.
Nestor
speaks of the sufferings of the
Greeks
by sea, as well as by land, during the siege of
Troy:
To understand this, it is necessary to remember, that the
Greeks
made many expeditions against other places during the war both by sea and land, as appears from many passages in the
Iliads,
particularly from what
Achilles
says in the ninth book.
XI.
VERSE 133.
There
Ajax
great,
Achilles
there the brave.
]
I have observ'd that the Poet inserts into the
Odyssey
several incidents that happen'd after the fall of
Troy,
and by that method agreeably diversifies his Poetry, and satisfies the curiosity of the Reader:
Eustathius
remarks here, that he gives a title of honour to all the Heroes he mentions but only to
Achilles. Achilles
had been the occasion of the sufferings and death of many of the
Greeks
by his anger, and obstinacy in refusing to obey
Agamemnon
; therefore while
Nestor
is lamenting the calamities of the
Greeks,
he passes over
Achilles
without any honourable mention, who had so greatly added to their sufferings. But I think this remark chimerical: one may as well say
Achilles
needed no Epithet to distinguish him.
It is with pleasure I see the old man dwell upon the praise of
Antilochus:
The father enlarges upon the fame of the son; he gives him four epithets of glory; and while
Ajax
is only praised as a warrior,
Antilochus
is great and good, excellent in the standing fight, or swift to pursue an enemy.
Longinus
has observ'd upon the beauty of this passage.
XII.
VERSE 149.
Far o'er the rest thy mighty father shin'd.
]
Nestor
speaks of
Ulysses
as an inseparable friend; and it shews an excellent disposition in them both, to be rivals, and yet without envy. But the art of
Nestor
is remarkable, he first gives the character to
Ulysses
of being superior in wisdom to all the
Greeks
; and yet at last he finds a way secretly to set himself on a level with him, if not above him; We ever, says he, thought the same thoughts, and were ever of the same sentiments: which tho' it may imply that they were of equal wisdom; yet there is room left for it to signify, that
Ulysses
always assented to the wisdom of
Nestor.
Eustathius.
XIII.
VERSE 157.
The Council or the Assembly.
]
There is a remarkable difference between
and
. The former denotes a select number of men assembled in council; the latter a public assembly where all the people were present.
Eustathius.
XIV.
VERSE 165.
Sent by
Pallas—]
Nestor
in modesty conceals the reason of the anger of the Goddess; out of respect to
Ajax
the
Locrian
who was then dead: The crime of
Ajax
was the violation of
Cassandra
even in the Temple of
Minerva
before her image. But why should the Goddess be angry at others for the crime of
Ajax?
this is because they omitted to punish the offender. If
Ajax
was criminal in offending, others are criminal for not punishing the offence.
Eustathius.
The crime of
Ajax
is mention'd in
Virgil. Aen.
1.
Pallasnè exurere classem
Argivûm, atque ipsos potuit submergere ponto,
Unius ob noxam, & furias Ajacis Oilei?
&c.
Could angry
Pallas
with revengeful spleen
The
Graecian
navy burn, and drown the men;
She for the fault of one offending foe,
The bolts of
Jove
himself presum'd to throw.
Dryden.
Virgil
borrow'd the description of the punishment of
Ajax
from the 4th of the
Odyssey.
XV.
VERSE 168, &c.
Who call'd to council—
But call'd untimely,
&c.
It may seem at first view, that the Poet affirms the night to be an improper season to convene a Council. This is not his meaning; In the
Iliad,
there are several councils by night; nay,
is used proverbially to express the best-concerted councils. What therefore
Nestor
here condemns is the calling not a select, but public assembly of the soldiers in the night; when they are in no danger of an enemy, and when they are apt to fly into insolence thro' wine, and the joy of victory. The night is then undoubtedly an ill chosen season: because the licence of the soldier cannot be so well restrain'd by night as by day.
Eustathius.
XVI.
VERSE 177.
Oh blind to fate!
]
It may be ask'd why
Nestor
condemns so solemnly this Heroe, calling him
, when he describes him in so pious an action? this is not because the Gods are implacable, for as
Homer
himself writes,
; but because he vainly imagin'd that they would so soon be appeas'd, without any justice done upon the offender:
are the words of
Eustathius.
XVII.
VERSE 197.
Wise as he was, by various Counsels sway'd,
He there, tho' late, to please the Monarch, stay'd.
]
It is with great address that
Nestor
relates the return of
Ulysses
to
Agamemnon
; he ascribes it not directly to
Ulysses,
but to his associates in the voyage; he mollifies it, in complaisance to
Telemachus.
But
Nestor,
according to
Dacier,
conceals the true reason of his return; it was not to please
Agamemnon,
but out of fear of the Goddess
Minerva,
whose statue he had taken by force from
Troy:
to appease that Goddess, he returns to joyn in sacrifice with
Agamemnon.
Eustathius.
XVIII.
VERSE 200.
Warn'd of the coming fury of the Gods.
]
It may be ask'd how
Nestor
attain'd this knowledge of the evils which the Gods were preparing?
Eustathius
ascribes it to his great Wisdom, which gave him an insight into futurity.
Dacier
with more reason tells us, that
Nestor
knew that
Minerva
had been offended, and might consequently apprehend a punishment was to be inflicted for the offence.
XIX.
VERSE 221.
But I to
Pylos, &c.]
Eustathius
observes from the Antients, that the Poet with great judgment suspends, and breaks off this relation of
Nestor
; by this method he has an opportunity to carry
Telemachus
to other countries, and insert into his Poem the story of
Menelaus
and
Helen:
This method likewise gives an air of probability to what he writes; the Poet seems afraid to deceive, and when he sends
Telemachus
to other parts for better intelligence, he seems to consult truth and exactness.
XX.
VERSE 229.
Achilles'
warlike son.
]
The son of
Achilles
was nam'd
Neoptolemus,
by others
Pyrrhus
; his story is this: When he had reach'd
Thessaly
with the
Myrmidons
of
Achilles,
by the advice of
Thetis
he set fire to his vessels: And being warn'd by
Helenus,
from the Oracles, to fix his habitation where he found a house whose foundations were iron, whose walls were wood, and whose roof was wool; he took his journey on foot, and coming to a certain lake of
Epirus,
he found some persons fixing their spears with the points downwards into the earth, and covering the tops of them with their cloaks, and after this manner making their tents: he look'd upon the Oracle as fulfill'd, and dwelt there. Afterwards having a son by
Andromache
the wife of
Hector,
he nam'd him
Molossus
; from whom the region took the name of
Molossia.
From this country are the
Molossi canes,
mention'd by
Virgil.
Eustathius.
XXI.
VERSE 242.
So fell
Aegysthus
; and may'st thou, my friend,
&c.]
Nestor
introduces the mention of
Aegysthus
very artfully; it is to raise an emulation in
Telemachus
to revenge
Ulysses,
as
Orestes
had
Agamemnon
; it has the intended effect, and we find that
Telemachus
dwells upon his story with a virtuous envy; yet at the same time with great modesty:
Eustathius
gives us a different reading in
—
or,
—
both the expressions are used in
Homer,
the preference is therefore submitted to the Reader.
XXII.
VERSE 264.
Mov'd by some Oracle, or voice divine.
]
The words in the original are,
following the voice of some God,
that is, some Oracle:
Homer
does not confine the expression either to a good or bad sense, but the context plainly shews, that they must be understood in a bad sense; namely to imply, that the people had recourse to pretended Oracles to justify their rebellion. This is evident from what follows, where
Nestor
encourages
Telemachus
to expect that
Ulysses
may punish them for their crimes,
—if there had been no crime, there ought to be no punishment.
XXIII.
VERSE 268.
Ulysses
singly, or all
Greece
in arms.
]
The Poet shews his great judgment in preparing the Reader for the destruction of the Suitors: that great Catastrophe is manag'd by few hands, and it might seem incredible that so few could destroy so many: the Poet therefore to give an air of truth to his action, frequently inculcates the assistance of
Pallas,
which must at least shew that such a great exploit is not impossible to be executed by stratagems and valour: It is by art, not strength, that
Ulysses
conquers.
All
Greece
in arms.
This is spoken in a general sense, and comprehends not only the subjects of
Ulysses,
or even the
Pylians
and
Spartans,
but implies that all the
Greeks
would rise in the cause of
Ulysses.
What the Suitors had spoken scoffingly in the preceding book,
viz.
that
Telemachus
was sailing to
Pyle
or
Sparta
for
supplies,
appears in this not to be impracticable; so that it was choice and not necessity that determin'd the Poet to make use of no such easy expedients for the destruction of the Suitors.
Eustathius.
It may be added, that the very nature of Epic Poetry, and of the
Odyssey
in particular, requires such a conduct: In the
Iliad Achilles
is the chief agent, and performs almost all the great actions;
Aeneas
is painted after the same manner by
Virgil
; the one kills
Hector,
the other
Turnus,
both which are the decisive actions: It was equally necessary to exalt the character of
Ulysses,
by bringing him into difficulties from which he is personally to extricate himself: This the Poet sufficiently brings about by refusing all the easy methods for his re-establishment, because the more difficult ways are most conducive to the honour of his Heroe: Thus as
Achilles
and
Aeneas
kill
Hector
and
Turnus
with their own hands, so the Suitors fall chiefly by the hand of
Ulysses:
It is necessary for the Heroe of the Poem to execute the decisive action, for by this method the Poet compleats his character, his own greatness surmounts all difficulties, and he goes off the stage with the utmost advantage, by leaving a noble character upon the mind of the spectators.
XXIV.
VERSE 282.
Fortune or fate wou'd cross the will of Heav'n.
]
It may be ask'd how an expression so near blasphemy, as
Eustathius
observes, could escape a person of such piety as
Telemachus?
'Tis true, the Poet makes
Minerva
herself correct it; but yet the objection remains,
viz.
how could
Telemachus
speak it? I think since the Poet himself condemns it, we may give it up as an indecency in
Telemachus
; it is natural for men in despair (and that was the condition of
Telemachus
) to use a vehemence of expression, and this might transport
Telemachus
beyond the bounds of prudence. The only possible way that occurs to me to take off the impiety is to have recourse to Destiny: It was the opinion of the Antients, that the Gods could not alter Destiny: and then
Telemachus
may mean no more, than that it was decreed by the Destinies that
Ulysses
shall return no more, so the Gods themselves could not restore him.
Thus in the 15th of the
Metamorphosis, Venus
in vain applies to the Gods to preserve
Julius Caesar.
—Superosque movet, qui rumpere quanquam
Ferrea non possunt veterum decreta sororum,
&c.
And a little lower
Jupiter
says to
Venus,
—Sola insuperabile fatum,
Nata, movere paras?
XXV.
VERSE 289.
Happier his lot, who,
&c.]
Nothing can be better imagin'd to encourage
Telemachus,
than what the Poet here delivers: She sets
Agamemnon
in opposition to
Ulysses: Agamemnon
made a speedy voyage to his country, and there fell by treachery;
Ulysses
has long been absent, but yet is happier than
Agamemnon:
the Gods perhaps reserve him for better fortunes, at least nothing can be concluded from his long absence, and this is sufficient to teach
Telemachus
not to despair.
Eustathius.
XXVI.
VERSE 294.
And all is possible to heav'n, but this.
]
What
Minerva
here says justifies the remark I made, that what
Telemachus
seem'd to have spoken rashly, may be soften'd if not vindicated by having recourse to Destiny: It is evident from this passage that Destiny was superior to the power of the Gods; otherwise
Minerva
speaks as blasphemously as
Telemachus:
For what difference is there between saying, that the Gods cannot preserve even these they love from death, and saying that the Gods could not save
Ulysses?
Why therefore may not the words of
Telemachus
be thought to have respect to Destiny?
I am of opinion, that the Poet had something further in view by putting these words into the mouth of
Minerva:
The words of
Telemachus,
if taken grosly, might appear shocking to so pious a person as
Nestor,
and make an ill impression upon him to the disadvantage of
Telemachus
;
Minerva
therefore artfully explains it, and softens the horrour of it by reconciling it to the Theology of those ages.
XXVII.
VERSE 301.
Pass we to other subjects—
]
Telemachus
here puts several questions, as it were in a breath, to
Nestor
; and
Plutarch
observes upon this passage, that he who enquires any thing of an old man, tho' the old man himself has no concern in the story, wins his heart at once; and incites a person, who is upon all occasions very willing to discourse. He introduces this as an instance of the art
Telemachus
uses, in adapting himself by his questions to the temper of the person with whom he converses: He puts together, continues he, several questions upon several subjects, which is more judicious than to confine his answer to a single interrogatory, and by that method deprive
Nestor
of one of the most pleasant enjoyments of old age, I mean the pleasure of talking.
Plutarch Symposiac.
XXVIII.
VERSE 303.
Who thrice has seen the perishable kind
Of men decay—
]
The Poet here tells us that
Nestor
was now in his fourth generation:
Ovid
took the word
to signify an hundred years; but then
Nestor
must have been above 300 years old. Others with more probability understand it to signify a generation, or such a portion of time in which any race of men flourish together, which is computed to be about thirty years. I refer the Reader to the Note upon the 333d verse in the first book of the
Iliad,
for the particular age of
Nestor.
According to that computation, he must now be about ninety five years of age.
XXIX.
VERSE 309.
How he, the mighty,
Agamemnon
fell?
]
Telemachus
does not ask this question out of curiosity, but with great judgment; he knows there were designs against his life, as well as there had been against
Agamemnon
; he therefore asks it, that he may learn how to defeat them; chiefly to instruct himself how best to assist his father upon his return, by aiding him in escaping the snares of the Suitors.
Dacier.
XXX.
VERSE 333.
Taught by a Master of the tuneful kind.
]
Homer
thro' the whole
Odyssey
speaks much in honour of the Art which he himself loved, and in which he so eminently excell'd: From these and other passages, we may learn the state of Poetry in those ages:
"Poets (says
Eustathius
) were rank'd in the class of Philosophers; and the Ancients made use of them as Praeceptors in Music and Morality."
Strabo
quotes this very passage as an instance of the excellence of Poetry in forming the soul to worthy actions:
Aegysthus
could not debauch
Clytemnestra,
'till he banish'd the Poet, who was her guide and instructor.
Various are the conjectures of the Ancients about the name of the Bard here celebrated: Some, says
Eustathius,
tell us, it was
Chariades,
some
Demodocus,
some
Glaucus, &c.
but I pass them over, because they are conjectures.
There were many degrees of these
; some were
, others
: But such Bards as are here mention'd were of an higher station, and retain'd as instructors by Kings and Princes.
I cannot omit one remark of
Eustathius
: he tells us, that some persons write that these
had their names from hence,
; exactly resembling the modern
Italian
singers: Madam
Dacier
is not to be forgiven for passing over a remark of such importance; if this be true, it makes a great difference between the antient and modern Poets, and is the only advantage I know we have over them.
XXXI.
VERSE 344.
Then Virtue was no more (her guard away)
She fell,—
&c.]
There is a fine moral couch'd in the story of the Bard and
Clytemnestra
; it admirably paints the advantage we draw from wise companions for the improvement of our Virtues:
Clytemnestra
was chaste because her instructor was wise: His wisdom was an insuperable guard to her modesty. It was long before she yielded; virtue and honour had a long contest: but she no sooner yielded to adultery, but she assisted in the murder of her husband; from whence we may draw another moral, that one vice betrays us into another, and when once the fences of honour are thrown down, we become a prey to every passion.
Dacier.
XXXII.
VERSE 346.
Ev'n to the temple stalk'd th' adult'rous spouse.
]
Here is a surprizing mixture of religion and impiety:
Aegysthus,
upon the accomplishment of so great a crime as adultery, returns thanks to the Gods by oblations, as if they had assisted him in the execution of it.
Nestor
dwells upon it at large, to shew that
Aegysthus
greatly aggravated his guilt by such a piece of impious devotion.
Dacier.
XXXIII.
VERSE 359.
Apollo
touch'd him with his gentle dart.
]
Homer
calls the darts of
Apollo
or gentle; to signify that those who dye thus suddenly, dye without pain.
Eustathius.
Dacier
complains that some Critics think
Homer
worthy of blame for enlarging upon so mean a person as a pilot, and giving us his genealogy. It is a sufficient answer to observe, that arts were in high esteem in those times, and men that were eminent in them were in great honour. Neither were arts then confin'd as in these ages to mean personages: no less a person than
Ulysses
builds a vessel in the sequel of the
Odyssey
; so that this is a false piece of delicacy. If
Homer
be culpable, so is
Virgil
; he gives the genealogy of
Palinurus,
as well as
Homer
of
Phrontis. Virgil
's description is censur'd as too long,
Homer
concludes his in seven lines; and lastly,
Virgil
's Episode has been judg'd by the Critics to be an unnecessary ornament, and to contribute nothing to the Poem:
Homer
relates the death of
Phrontis,
to introduce the dispersion of the fleet of
Menelaus
; the fleet might well be scatter'd, when it wanted so excellent a pilot.
XXXIV.
VERSE 371.
Part, the storm urges on the coast of
Crete.]
Homer
does not amuse us by relating, what became of these companions of
Menelaus
; he omits this judiciously, and follows the thread of his story:
Menelaus
is the person whom the Poet has in view; he therefore passes over the story of his companions, to carry on the fable of the Poem by leading us directly to
Menelaus.
XXXV.
VERSE 383.—
On th'
Aegyptian
coast.
]
In the original it is,
The wind and water carry'd them to
Aegyptus.
Homer
by
Aegyptus
means the river
Nile,
and then it is always used in the masculine gender; the region about it took its name from the river
Aegyptus,
this is always used in the feminine gender; but the country had not receiv'd that name in the days of
Homer.
Eustathius.
What
Dacier
adds to this observation, may assist in determining the dispute concerning the priority of
Homer
and
Hesiod: Hesiod
makes mention of the river
Nilus
; if therefore it be true that
Aegyptus
had not been called by the name of
Nilus
in the times of
Homer,
it is a demonstration that
Hesiod
was posterior to
Homer
; otherwise he could not have been acquainted with any other name but that of
Aegyptus.
XXXVI.
VERSE 390.
From
Athens
to his realm
—.]
There is a different reading in this place: instead of
, some write
; for
Orestes
was educated by
Strophius
King of
Phocis,
and father of
Pylades:
The Ancients reconcile the difference, by saying that
Orestes
might be sent from
Phocis
to
Athens
for his education, and returning thence to his own country, might revenge the death of his father
Agamemnon
; so that although he was first bred up in
Phocis,
he was afterwards a sojourner in
Athens.
Eustathius.
XXXVII.
VERSE 411.
A length of Ocean and unbounded sky,
Which scarce the sea-fowl in a year o'erfly.
]
It must be confest, that
Nestor
greatly exaggerates this description:
Homer
himself tells us, that a ship may sail in five days from
Crete
to
Aegypt
; wherefore then this Hyperbole of
Nestor?
It might perhaps be to deter
Telemachus
from a design of sailing to
Crete,
and he through his inexperience might believe the description. It may be added, that what
Nestor
speaks concerning the flight of birds, may be only said to shew the great distance of that sea: Nay, by a favourable interpretation it may be reconcil'd to truth; the meaning then must be this: Should a person observe that sea a whole year, he would not see one bird flying over it, both because of the vastness and dreadfulness of it; and perhaps the whole of this might arise from the observation, that this sea is not frequented by birds. This is wholly and almost literally taken from
Eustathius
; and if we add to this the ignorance of the sea and sea-affairs in those ages, we shall the less wonder to hear so wise a man as
Nestor
describing it with so much terror; Navigation is now greatly improv'd, and the Moderns sail further in a month, than the Ancients could in a year; their whole art consisting chiefly in coasting along the shores, and consequently they made but little way.
XXXVIII.
VERSE 425.
Now immolate the tongues
—.]
Various are the reasons which
Eustathius
reports concerning this oblation of the tongues at the conclusion of the sacrifice. It was to purge themselves from any evil words they might have utter'd; or because the tongue was reckon'd the best part of the sacrifice, and so reserv'd for the completion of it; or they offer'd the tongue to the Gods, as witnesses to what they had spoken. I omit the rest as superfluous. They had a custom of offering the tongues to
Mercury,
because they believ'd him the giver of Eloquence.
Dacier
expatiates upon this custom: The people, says she, might fear, lest thro' wine and the joy of the festival they might have utter'd some words unbecoming the sanctity of the occasion: by this sacrifice of the tongues, they signify'd that they purged away whatever they had spoken amiss during the festival; and ask'd in particular pardon of
Mercury,
who presided over discourse; to the end they might not carry home any uncleanness which might stop the blessings expected from the sacrifice.
XXXIX.
VERSE 429.
Nor fits it to prolong the heav'nly feast,
Timeless, indecent,
&c.—]
Eustathius
shews the difference between
festivals, and
, or sacrifices: in the former it was customary to spend the whole night in wine and rejoicing: In the latter, this was reckon'd an unlawful custom, thro' the fear of falling into any indecencies through wine. He likewise gives another reason of this injunction, by telling us that it was the custom to offer sacrifices to the celestial Powers in the time of the day, and even to finish them about the setting of the sun; and that those who dealt in incantations perform'd their sacrifices to the infernal powers by night, and finish'd them before sun-rising. Either of these reasons sufficiently explains the words of the Goddess; and the former carries in it an excellent moral, that particular care should be taken in our acts of devotion, not to turn religion into impiety.
XL.
VERSE 450.
When beds of royal state invite your stay?
]
This passage gives us a full insight into the manners of these hospitable ages; they not only kept a treasury for bowls or vases of gold or silver, to give as
, or gifts of hospitality, but also a wardrobe of various habits and rich furniture, to lodge and bestow upon strangers.
Eustathius
relates, that
Tellias
of
Agrigentum
was a person of so great hospitality, that five hundred horsemen coming to his house in the winter season, he entertain'd them, and gave every man a cloak and a tunic. This laudable custom prevailed, and still prevails, in the eastern countries: it was the practice of
Abraham
of old, and is at this day of the
Turks,
as we may learn from their Caravansaries, erected for the reception of travellers. And yet
Dacier
observes, that a
French
Critic has shew'd so ill a taste as to ridicule this passage.
"
Telemachus
(says that Author) being entertain'd by
Nestor,
intimates his intention of returning to lodge on shipboard with his companions: but
Nestor
detains him, by asking if he thought he had not quilts or coverlets to give him a night's lodging? Upon this
Telemachus
goes to bed in a resounding gallery, and
Nestor
in a bed which his wife made ready for him."
The noblest things are most liable to burlesque, by perverting their meaning; as some pictures, by varying the position, represent a man or a monster. He is very severe upon the resounding gallery, which in truth means no more than very lofty or elevated, and by consequence very noble and magnificent.
XLI.
VERSE 468.
I go to challenge from the
Caucons.]
The Poet makes a double use of these words of the Goddess; she gives an air of probability to her excuse, why she should not be press'd to stay; and at the same time
Homer
avoids the absurdity of introducing that Goddess at
Sparta,
where
Menelaus
and
Helen
are celebrating the nuptials of their son and daughter:
Minerva
is a Virgin Deity, and consequently an enemy to all nuptial ceremonies.
Eustathius.
But it may be necessary to observe who these
Caucons
are: we find in the tenth book the
Caucons
mention'd as auxiliaries to
Troy:
There
Dolon
says
The
Carians
,
Caucons
, the
Pelasgian
host,
And
Leleges
encamp along the coast.
Are these
Caucons
the same with those here mention'd?
Eustathius
informs us, that there was a people of
Triphyly,
between
Elis
and
Pylos,
named
Caucons:
But
Strabo
says, that the whole race is now extinct, and that these here mention'd are of
Dymaea,
and take their name from the river
Caucon:
whereas those in the
Iliads
are
Paphlagonians:
they were a wandring nation, and consequently might be the same people originally, and retain the same name in different countries.
XLII.
VERSE 478.
But chief the rev'rend Sage admir'd
—]
It may be ask'd why
Nestor
is in such a surprize at the discovery of the Goddess: It is evident from the
Iliad,
that he had been no stranger to such intercourses of the Deities; nay, in this very book
Nestor
tells us, that
Ulysses
enjoy'd almost the constant presence of
Minerva
; insomuch that
Sophocles,
the great imitator of
Homer,
relates, that he knew the Goddess by her voice, without seeing her.
Eustathius
answers, that the wonder of
Nestor
arose not from the discovery of that Deity, but that she should accompany so young a person as
Telemachus
: After her departure, the old man stood amaz'd, and look'd upon that Heroe as some very extraordinary person, whom in such early years the Goddess of War and Wisdom had vouchsafed to attend. This interpretation agrees perfectly with what
Nestor
speaks to
Telemachus.
XLIII.
VERSE 481.
Distinguish'd care of guardian deities.
]
I will take this opportunity to obviate an objection that may be made against all interposition of the Gods in assisting the Heroes of the
Odyssey:
It has been thought by some Critics a disparagement to them to stand in continual need of such supernatural succour: If two persons were engaged in combat, and a third person should immediately step in to the assistance of one of the parties and kill the adversary, would it not reflect upon the valour of his friend who was so weak as to want such assistance? Why, for instance, should
Jupiter
help
Aeneas
to kill
Turnus?
Was not he brave enough to fight, and strong enough to conquer his enemy by his own prowess? and would not
Turnus
have kill'd
Aeneas
with the same assistance? It is therefore a disparagement to the actors, thus continually to supply the defects of a Heroe, by the power of a Deity.
But this is a false way of arguing, and from hence it might be infer'd that the love and favour of a Deity serves only to make those whom he assists, and those who depend upon such assistance, appear weak, impotent, cowardly, and unworthy to be conquerors. Can any doubt arise whether the love and favour of a God be a disparagement or honour to those whom he favours? According to these Critics, we should find the character of a perfect Heroe in an impious
Mezentius,
who acknowledges no God but his own arm and his own sword: 'Tis true, the objection would be just if the Heroe himself perform'd nothing of the action; or if when he were almost conquer'd by the superior valour of his enemy, he ow'd his life and victory to Gods and Miracles: But the Heroe always behaves himself in all his actions, as if he were to gain success without the assistance of the Deity; and the presence of the Gods is so order'd, that we may retrench every thing that is miraculous, without making any alteration in the action or character of the human personages. Thus in the instance of
Aeneas
and
Turnus,
tho'
Jupiter
favours
Aeneas,
yet
Aeneas
is painted in stronger colours of fortitude, he appears superior, as a man unassisted, and able to conquer
Turnus
; and consequently the favour of
Jupiter
makes no alteration in the action or character of
Aeneas.
There is likewise a wide difference between the assistance of a Man, and of a God: The actions of men belong only to the performers of those actions, but when a Deity assists us by inspiring us with strength and courage, the actions we perform are really our own, and the more he favours us the more glory he gives us: so that the assistance of man eclipses, but the assistance of a God exalts, our glory. Thus for instance, when
Achilles
is pursuing
Hector,
he charges the
Greeks
to keep off from
Hector
; their assistance might lessen his glory: but when
Pallas
offers her assistance he immediately embraces it as an honour, and boasts of it as such to
Hector.
I have been large upon this objection, because the Reader ought to carry it in his memory thro' the whole Poem, and apply it to every action, in which any share is ascribed to any Deity. See
Bossu
more at large concerning this objection.
XLIV.
VERSE 519.
And sate On polish'd stone before his Palace gate.
]
We have here an ancient custom recorded by the Poet; a King places himself before the gate of his Palace upon a seat of marble, worn smooth by long use, says
Eustathius,
or perhaps smooth'd exquisitely by the hand of the workman. What I would chiefly observe is, that they placed themselves thus in public for the dispatch of justice: We read in the scripture of Judges
sitting in the gate
; and that this procedure of
Nestor
was for that purpose is probable from the expression,
He sate in the seat where
Neleus [
, or
Consiliarius,
]
used to sit,
(which seems to express his wisdom in the discharge of justice.)
Nestor
is also describ'd as bearing his sceptre in his hand, which was never used but upon some act of regality, in the dispatch of justice, or other solemn occasions. Perhaps, says
Dacier,
these seats or thrones might be consecrated with oil, to draw a reverence to the seats of Justice, as by an act of religion; but I rather judge (adds she) that no more is meant than to express the shining of these thrones, they being undoubtedly made of marble.
XLV.
VERSE 528.
Pisistratus.
]
Would I indulge my fancy in a conjecture, I might suppose that the famous tyrant
Pisistratus
was descended, or borrow'd his name, from this son of
Nestor. Herodotus
informs us, as
Eustathius
observes, that all the
Pisistrati
were originally
Pylians.
If this be true, we have a very strong evidence that
Homer
is not all fiction, but that he celebrates the great men of those ages with reality, and only embellishes the true story with the ornaments of Poetry.
XLVI.
VERSE 540.
Laerceus—
Artist divine,
&c.]
The Author of the
Parallel
quotes this passage to prove that
Homer
was ignorant of the Mechanic arts: We have here, says he, a Gilder with his anvil and hammer; but what occasion has he for an anvil and hammer in the art of a Gilder?
Boileau
has excellently vindicated
Homer
from this objection, in his reflections upon
Longinus
; this Gilder was a gold-beater;
Nestor
we see furnish'd the gold, and he beat it into leaves, so that he had occasion to make use of his anvil and hammer; the anvil was portable, because the work was not laborious. Our modern travellers assure us, that it is at this day the practice in the eastern regions, as in
Persia,
&c. for the artists in metals to carry about with them the whole implements of trade, to the house of the persons where they find employment; it is therefore a full vindication of
Homer,
to observe that the gold this artist used in gilding, was nothing but gold beat into fine leaves.
XLVII.
VERSE 552.
Nor was
Minerva
absent
—]
It may be ask'd in what sense
Minerva
can be said to come to the sacrifice?
Eustathius
answers, that the Ancients finding the inclinations of men to be bent incontinently upon pleasures, to oblige them to use them moderately, distinguish'd times, ordain'd sacrifices, and representing the Gods in the forms of men, brought them to use those pleasures with discretion; they taught them that the Gods came down to their libations and sacrifices, to induce them to govern their conversation with reverence and modesty: Thus
Jupiter
and the other Gods in the
Iliads,
and
Neptune
in the
Odyssey,
are said to feast with the
Aethiopians.
If I might be pardon'd a conjecture, I would suppose, that
Minerva
may in another sense be said to come to the sacrifice; I mean by her Image or statue: and what may seem to confirm this opinion, is what
Diodorus
relates in his third book concerning the above-mention'd
Aethiopians
; they carry'd about the statues of
Jupiter
and the other Gods twelve days, during which time the Gods were said to be gone to the
Aethiopians:
and if the Gods may be said to come to the
Aethiopians
by their statues; why may not the same be said of
Minerva,
from the introduction of her statue among the
Pylians?
So that the appearance of the Goddess may possibly mean the appearance of her statue.
XLVIII.
VERSE 560.
Stratius
and
Echephron, &c.]
Nestor
here makes use only of the ministry of his sons; the reason of it is, because it was reckon'd honourable to serve in the performance of sacrifice, this being in some sense an attending upon the Gods: or because it was the practice of those ages for great persons to do those offices with their own hands, which in the latter have been perform'd by servants.
Eustathius
reports a saying of
Antigonus,
who observing his son behaving himself imperiously to his subjects,
"Know'st thou not, says he, that Royalty it self is but illustrious servitude!"
an intimation that he himself was but a servant of the public, and therefore should use his servants with moderation.
But the true reason of
Nestor
's assisting in the sacrifice is, because Kings anciently had the inspection of religion, and Priesthood was joyn'd to Royalty, according to that of
Virgil,
Rex Anius, rex idem hominum Phoebique sacerdos.
XLIX.
VERSE 573.
Maids, wives, and matrons, mix a shrilling sound.
]
I have kept the meaning of the word in the original, which signifies prayers made with loud cries,
, says
Hesychius,
is,
,
the voice of women, which they make at sacrifices in their prayers.
But there is still something in it more to the present purpose; the Scholiast upon
Aeschylns
remarks, that this word is not used properly but when apply'd to the prayers offer'd to
Minerva
; for
Minerva
is the only Goddess to whom prayers are made with loud cries, she being the Goddess of War; to other Deities they offer prayer with thanksgiving;
.
Thus also in the 6th book of the
Iliads,
verse 301.
They fill the dome with supplicating cries.
And in the present passage in the
Odyssey,
—
, &c.
Dacier.
L.
VERSE 594.
Sweet
Polycaste
took the pleasing toil
To bathe the Prince,
&c.]
It is very necessary to say something about this practice of women bathing and anointing men; it frequently occurs thro' the whole
Odyssey,
and is so contrary to the usage of the moderns as to give offence to modesty; neither is this done by women of inferior quality, but we have here a young Princess, bathing, anointing, and cloathing the naked
Telemachus. Eustathius
indeed tells us, it was undoubtedly by her father's command: but if it was a piece of immodesty, it does not solve the objection, whoever commanded it. I confess it would be immodest in these ages of the world, and the only excuse that occurs to me is, to say that Custom establish'd it. It is in manners, in some degree, as in dress; if a fashion never so indecent prevails, yet no person is ridiculous, because it is fashionable; so in manners, if a practice prevails universally, tho' not reconcilable to real modesty, yet no person can be said to be immodest who comes into it, because it is agreeable to the custom of the times and countries.
VERSE 610. &c.
The conclusion of the book.
]
I shall lay together what I have further to observe on the conclusion of this book: It is remarkable that the Poet does not amuse himself in describing the present he receiv'd from
Nestor,
or the provisions for the journey, or even the journey it self at large; he dispatches the whole in a few lines very judiciously; he carries his Heroe directly to
Menelaus,
who is to furnish many incidents that contribute to the design of the Poem, and passes over other matters as unnecessary.
We have here likewise a piece of poetical Geography, and learn that it is exactly two days journey from
Pyle
to
Lacedaemon.
This book takes up three days; the first is spent in the enquiries
Telemachus
makes of
Nestor
concerning
Ulysses
; the two last in the morning sacrifice at
Pylos,
and in the journey of
Telemachus
to
Lacedaemon
; so that five days have now pass'd since the opening of the Poem. I have said nothing about the sacrifice, tho' it be the most exact description of the sacrifices as practis'd by the Ancients, perhaps extant in any Author; I refer to the observations upon the first book of the
Iliad.
I would here remark that the three first books are written with the utmost simplicity, there has been no room for such exalted strokes of Poetry as are to be found in the
Iliad,
or in the future parts of the
Odyssey
: But this is not owing to the decay of genius in
Homer,
as some Critics have affirm'd, (who look upon the
Odyssey
as bearing marks of his declining years,) but to the nature of the subject. The characters of
Achilles
and
Ulysses
are both very great, but very different. The
Iliad
consists of battles, and a continual commotion; the
Odyssey
in Patience and Wisdom: and consequently the style of the two Poems must be as different as the characters of the two Heroes. A noble fountain of Poetry opens in the next book, and flows with an uninterrupted course almost through the whole
Odyssey.
THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.
The ARGUMENT.
Telemachus
with
Pisistratus
arriving at
Sparta,
is hospitably receiv'd by
Menelaus,
to whom he relates the cause of his coming, and learns from him many particulars of what befel the
Greeks
since the destruction of
Troy.
He dwells more at large upon the Prophecies of
Proteus
to him in his return; from which he acquaints
Telemachus,
that
Ulysses
is detain'd in the Island of
Calypso.
In the mean-time the Suitors consult to destroy
Telemachus
in his voyage home.
Penelope
is appriz'd of this, but comforted in a dream by
Pallas,
in the shape of her sister
Ipthima.
W.K.
P.F.sc.
THE FOURTH BOOK OF THE ODYSSEY.
A ND now proud
Sparta
with their wheels resounds,
Sparta,
whose walls a range of hills surrounds:
At the fair dome their rapid labour ends;
Where sate
Atrides
'midst his bridal friends,
With double vows invoking
Hymen
's pow'r,
To bless his sons and daughters nuptial hour.
That day, to great
Achilles
' son resign'd
Hermione,
(the fairest of her kind)
Was sent to crown the long-protracted joy,
Espous'd before the final doom of
Troy:
With steeds, and gilded cars, a gorgeous train
Attend the nymph to
Phthia
's distant reign.
Mean-while at home, to
Megapenthes
' bed
The virgin-choir
Alector
's daughter led.
Brave
Megapenthes,
from a stol'n amour
To great
Atrides
' age his hand-maid bore:
To
Helen
's bed the Gods alone assign
Hermione,
t'extend the regal line;
On whom a radiant pomp of Graces wait,
Resembling
Venus
in attractive state.
While this gay friendly troop the King surround,
With festival and mirth the roofs resound:
A Bard amid the joyous circle sings
High airs, attemper'd to the vocal strings;
Whilst warbling to the varied strain, advance
Two sprightly youths to form the bounding dance.
'Twas then that issuing thro' the palace gate
The splendid car roll'd slow in regal state:
On the bright eminence young
Nestor
shone,
And fast beside him great
Ulysses
' son:
Grave
Eteoneus
saw the pomp appear,
And speeding, thus address'd the royal ear.
Two youths approach, whose semblant features prove
Their blood devolving from the source of
Jove.
Is due reception deign'd, or must they bend
Their doubtful course to seek a distant friend?
Insensate! with a sigh the King replies,
Too long, mis-judging, have I thought thee wise:
But sure relentless folly steels thy breast,
Obdurate to reject the stranger-guest;
To those dear hospitable rites a foe,
Which in my wand'rings oft reliev'd my woe:
Fed by the bounty of another's board,
'Till pitying
Jove
my native realm restor'd—
Strait be the coursers from the car releast,
Conduct the youths to grace the genial feast.
The Seneshal rebuk'd in haste withdrew;
With equal haste a menial train pursue:
Part led the coursers, from the car enlarg'd,
Each to a crib with choicest grain surcharg'd;
Part in a portico, profusely grac'd
With rich magnificence, the chariot plac'd:
Then to the dome the friendly pair invite,
Who eye the dazling roofs with vast delight;
Resplendent as the blaze of summer-noon,
Or the pale radiance of the midnight moon.
From room to room their eager view they bend;
Thence to the bath, a beauteous pile, descend;
Where a bright damsel-train attend the guests
With liquid odors, and embroider'd vests.
Refresh'd, they wait them to the bow'r of state,
Where circled with his Peers
Atrides
sate:
Thron'd next the King, a fair attendant brings
The purest product of the chrystal springs;
High on a massy vase of silver mold,
The burnish'd laver flames with solid gold;
In solid gold the purple vintage flows,
And on the board a second banquet rose.
When thus the King with hospitable port:—
Accept this welcome to the
Spartan
court;
The waste of nature let the feast repair,
Then your high lineage and your names declare:
Say from what scepter'd ancestry ye claim,
Recorded eminent in deathless fame?
For vulgar parents cannot stamp their race
With signatures of such majestic grace.
Ceasing, benevolent he strait assigns
The royal portion of the choicest chines
To each accepted friend: with grateful haste
They share the honours of the rich repast.
Suffic'd, soft-whispering thus to
Nestor
's son,
His head reclin'd, young
Ithacus
begun.
View'st thou un-mov'd, O ever-honour'd most!
These prodigies of art, and wond'rous cost?
Above, beneath, around the Palace shines
The sumless treasure of exhausted mines:
The spoils of elephants the roofs inlay,
And studded amber darts a golden ray:
Such, and not nobler, in the realms above
My wonder dictates is the dome of
Jove.
The Monarch took the word, and grave reply'd.
Presumptuous are the vaunts, and vain the pride
Of man, who dares in pomp with
Jove
contest,
Unchang'd, immortal, and supremely blest!
With all my affluence when my woes are weigh'd,
Envy will own, the purchase dearly paid.
For eight slow-circling years by tempests tost,
From
Cyprus
to the far
Phoenician
coast,
(
Sidon
the Capital) I stretch'd my toil
Thro' regions fatten'd with the flows of
Nile.
Next,
Aethiopia
's utmost bound explore,
And the parcht borders of th'
Arabian
shore:
Then warp my voyage on the southern gales,
O'er the warm
Libyan
wave to spread my sails:
That happy clime! where each revolving year
The teeming Ewes a triple offspring bear;
And two fair crescents of translucent horn
The brows of all their young increase adorn:
The shepherd swains with sure abundance blest,
On the fat flock and rural dainties feast;
Nor want of herbage makes the dairy fail,
But ev'ry season fills the foaming pail.
Whilst heaping unwish'd wealth, I distant roam;
The best of brothers, at his natal home,
By the dire fury of a traitress wife,
Ends the sad evening of a stormy life:
Whence with incessant grief my soul annoy'd,
These riches are possess'd, but not enjoy'd!
My wars, the copious theme of ev'ry tongue,
To you, your fathers have recorded long:
How fav'ring heav'n repaid my glorious toils
With a sack'd Palace, and barbaric spoils.
Oh! had the Gods so large a boon deny'd,
And Life, the just equivalent, supply'd
To those brave warriors, who, with glory fir'd,
Far from their country in my cause expir'd!
Still in short intervals of pleasing woe,
Regardful of the friendly dues I owe,
I to the glorious dead, for ever dear!
Indulge the tribute of a grateful tear.
But oh!
Ulysses
—deeper than the rest
That sad Idea wounds my anxious breast!
My heart bleeds fresh with agonizing pain;
The bowl, and tasteful viands tempt in vain,
Nor sleep's soft pow'r can close my streaming eyes,
When imag'd to my soul his sorrows rise.
No peril in my cause he ceas'd to prove,
His labours equal'd only by my love:
And both alike to bitter fortune born,
For him, to suffer, and for me, to mourn!
Whether he wanders on some friendless coast,
Or glides in
Stygian
gloom a pensive ghost,
No fame reveals; but doubtful of his doom,
His good old Sire with sorrow to the tomb
Declines his trembling steps; untimely care
Withers the blooming vigour of his heir;
And the chaste partner of his bed and throne,
Wastes all her widow'd hours in tender moan.
While thus pathetic to the Prince he spoke,
From the brave youth the streaming passion broke:
Studious to veil the grief, in vain represt,
His face he shrowded with his purple vest:
The conscious Monarch pierc'd the coy disguise,
And view'd his filial love with vast surprize;
Dubious to press the tender theme, or wait
To hear the youth enquire his father's fate.
In this suspence bright
Helen
grac'd the room;
Before her breath'd a gale of rich perfume.
So moves, adorn'd with each attractive grace,
The silver-shafted Goddess of the Chace!
The seat of majesty
Adraste
brings,
With art illustrious, for the pomp of Kings.
To spread the pall beneath the regal chair
Of softest woof, is bright
Alcippe
's care.
A silver canister divinely wrought,
In her soft hands the beauteous
Phylo
brought:
To
Sparta
's Queen of old the radiant vase
Alcandra
gave, a pledge of royal grace:
For
Polybus
her Lord, (whose sov'reign sway
The wealthy tribes of
Pharian Thebes
obey)
When to that court
Atrides
came, carest
With vast munificence th'imperial guest:
Two lavers from the richest ore refin'd,
With silver tripods, the kind host assign'd;
And bounteous, from the royal treasure told
Ten equal talents of refulgent gold.
Alcandra,
confort of his high command,
A golden distaff gave to
Helen
's hand;
And that rich vase, with living sculpture wrought,
Which heap'd with wool the beauteous
Phylo
brought:
The silken fleece impurpl'd for the loom,
Rival'd the hyacinth in vernal bloom.
The sovereign seat then
Jove
-born
Helen
press'd,
And pleasing thus her sceptred Lord address'd.
Who grace our palace now, that friendly pair,
Speak they their lineage, or their names declare?
Uncertain of the truth, yet uncontroul'd
Hear me the bodings of my breast unfold.
With wonder rapt, on yonder cheek I trace
The feature of the
Ulyssean
race:
Diffus'd o'er each resembling line appear,
In just similitude, the grace and air
Of young
Telemachus!
the lovely boy,
Who bless'd
Ulysses
with a father's joy,
What time the
Greeks
combin'd their social arms,
T'avenge the stain of my ill-fated charms!
Just is thy thought, the King assenting cries,
Methinks
Ulysses
strikes my wond'ring eyes:
Full shines the father in the filial frame,
His port, his features, and his shape the same:
Such quick regards his sparkling eyes bestow;
Such wavy ringlets o'er his shoulders flow!
And when he heard the long disastrous store
Of cares, which in my cause
Ulysses
bore;
Dismay'd, heart-wounded with paternal woes,
Above restraint the tide of sorrow rose:
Cautious to let the gushing grief appear,
His purple garment veil'd the falling tear.
See there confess'd,
Pisistratus
replies,
The genuine worth of
Ithacus
the wise!
Of that heroic sire the youth is sprung,
But modest awe hath chain'd his tim'rous tongue.
Thy voice, O King! with pleas'd attention heard,
Is like the dictates of a God rever'd.
With him at
Nestor
's high command I came,
Whose age I honour with a parent's name.
By adverse destiny constrain'd to sue
For counsel and redress, he sues to you.
Whatever ill the friendless orphan bears,
Bereav'd of parents in his infant years,
Still must the wrong'd
Telemachus
sustain,
If hopeful of your aid, he hopes in vain:
Affianc'd in your friendly pow'r alone,
The youth wou'd vindicate the vacant throne.
Is
Sparta
blest, and these desiring eyes
View my friend's son? (the King exulting cries)
Son of my friend, by glorious toils approv'd,
Whose sword was sacred to the man he lov'd:
Mirror of constant faith, rever'd, and mourn'd!—
When
Troy
was ruin'd, had the chief return'd,
No
Greek
an equal space had e'er possest
Of dear affection, in my grateful breast.
I, to confirm the mutual joys we shar'd,
For his abode a Capital prepar'd;
Argos
the seat of sovereign rule I chose;
Fair in the plan the future palace rose,
Where my
Ulysses
and his race might reign,
And portion to his tribes the wide domain.
To them my vassals had resign'd a soil,
With teeming plenty to reward their toil.
There with commutual zeal we both had strove,
In acts of dear benevolence, and love:
Brothers in peace, not rivals in command,
And death alone dissolv'd the friendly band!
Some envious pow'r the blissful scene destroys;
Vanish'd are all the visionary joys:
The soul of friendship to my hope is lost,
Fated to wander from his natal coast!
He ceas'd; a gust of grief began to rise:
Fast streams a tide from beauteous
Helen
's eyes;
Fast for the Sire the filial sorrows flow;
The weeping Monarch swells the mighty woe:
Thy cheek,
Pisistratus,
the tears bedew,
While pictur'd to thy mind appear'd in view
Thy martial
Antilochus.
Brother; on the
Phrygian
plain
Extended pale, by swarthy
Memnon
slain!
But silence soon the son of
Nestor
broke,
And melting with fraternal pity spoke.
Frequent, O King, was
Nestor
wont to raise
And charm attention, with thy copious praise:
To crown thy various gifts, the sage assign'd
The glory of a firm capacious mind:
With that superior attribute controul
This unavailing impotence of soul.
Let not your roof with echoing grief resound,
Now for the feast the friendly bowl is crown'd:
But when from dewy shade emerging bright,
Aurora
streaks the sky with orient light,
Let each deplore his dead: the rites of woe
Are all, alas! the living can bestow:
O'er the congenial dust injoin'd to shear
The graceful curl, and drop the tender tear.
Then mingling in the mournful pomp with you,
I'll pay my brother's ghost a warrior's due,
And mourn the brave
Antilochus,
a name
Not unrecorded in the rolls of fame:
With strength and speed superior form'd, in fight
To face the foe, or intercept his flight:
Too early snatch'd by fate ere known to me!
I boast a witness of his worth in thee.
Young and mature! the Monarch thus rejoins,
In thee renew'd the soul of
Nestor
shines:
Form'd by the care of that consummate sage,
In early bloom an Oracle of age.
When-e'er his influence
Jove
vouchsafes to show'r
To bless the natal, and the nuptial hour;
From the great sire transmissive to the race,
The boon devolving gives distinguish'd grace.
Such, happy
Nestor!
was thy glorious doom;
Around thee full of years, thy offspring bloom,
Expert of arms, and prudent in debate;
The gifts of heav'n to guard thy hoary state.
But now let each becalm his troubled breast,
Wash, and partake serene the friendly feast.
To move thy suit,
Telemachus,
delay,
'Till heav'n's revolving lamp restores the day.
He said,
Asphalion
swift the laver brings;
Alternate all partake the grateful springs:
Then from the rites of purity repair,
And with keen gust the sav'ry viands share.
Mean-time with genial joy to warm the soul,
Bright
Helen
mix'd a mirth-inspiring bowl:
Temper'd with drugs of sov'reign use, t'assuage
The boiling bosom of tumultuous Rage;
To clear the cloudy front of wrinkled Care,
And dry the tearful sluices of Despair:
Charm'd with that virtuous draught, th' exalted mind
All sense of woe delivers to the wind.
Though on the blazing pile his parent lay,
Or a lov'd brother groan'd his life away,
Or darling son oppress'd by ruffian-force
Fell breathless at his feet, a mangled corse,
From morn to eve, impassive and serene,
The man entranc'd wou'd view the deathful scene.
These drugs, so friendly to the joys of life,
Bright
Helen
learn'd from
Thone
's imperial wife;
Who sway'd the sceptre, where prolific
Nile
With various simples cloaths the fat'ned soil.
With wholsome herbage mix'd, the direful bane
Of vegetable venom, taints the plain;
From
Paeon
sprung, their patron-god imparts
To all the
Pharian
race his healing arts.
The beverage now prepar'd t'inspire the feast,
The circle thus the beauteous Queen address'd.
Thron'd in omnipotence, supremest
Jove
Tempers the fates of human race above;
By the firm sanction of his sov'reign will,
Alternate are decreed our good and ill.
To feastful mirth be this white hour assign'd,
And sweet discourse, the banquet of the mind.
My self assisting in the social joy,
Will tell
Ulysses
' bold exploit in
Troy
:
Sole witness of the deed I now declare;
Speak you, (who saw) his wonders in the war.
Seam'd o'er with wounds, which his own sabre gave,
In the vile habit of a village slave,
The foe deceiv'd, he pass'd the tented plain,
In
Troy
to mingle with the hostile train.
In this attire secure from searching eyes,
'Till haply piercing thro' the dark disguise
The chief I challeng'd; he, whose practis'd wit
Knew all the serpent-mazes of deceit,
Eludes my search: but when his form I view'd
Fresh from the bath with fragrant oils renew'd,
His limbs in military purple dress'd;
Each brightning grace the genuine
Greek
confess'd.
A previous pledge of sacred faith obtain'd,
'Till he the lines and
Argive
fleet regain'd
To keep his stay conceal'd; the chief declar'd
The plans of war against the town prepar'd.
Exploring then the secrets of the state,
He learn'd what best might urge the
Dardan
fate:
And safe returning to the
Grecian
host,
Sent many a shade to
Pluto
's dreary coast.
Loud grief resounded thro' the tow'rs of
Troy,
But my pleas'd bosom glow'd with secret joy:
For then with dire remorse, and conscious shame,
I view'd th' effects of that disastrous flame,
Which kindled by th' imperious Queen of love,
Constrain'd me from my native realm to rove:
And oft in bitterness of soul deplor'd
My absent daughter, and my dearer Lord;
Admir'd among the first of human race,
For ev'ry gift of mind, and manly grace.
Right well, reply'd the King, your speech displays
The matchless merit of the chief you praise:
Heroes in various climes my self have found,
For martial deeds, and depth of thought renown'd;
But
Ithacus,
unrival'd in his claim,
May boast a title to the loudest fame:
In battel calm he guides the rapid storm,
Wise to resolve, and patient to perform.
What wond'rous conduct in the chief appear'd,
When the vast fabric of the Steed we rear'd!
Some Daemon anxious for the
Trojan
doom,
Urg'd you with great
Deiphobus
to come,
T'explore the fraud: with guile oppos'd to guile,
Slow-pacing thrice around th' insidious pile;
Each noted leader's name you thrice invoke,
Your accent varying as their spouses spoke:
The pleasing founds each latent warrior warm'd,
But most
Tydides
' and my heart alarm'd:
To quit the steed we both impatient press,
Threat'ning to answer from the dark recess.
Unmov'd the mind of
Ithacus
remain'd,
And the vain ardors of our love restrain'd:
But
Anticlus
unable to controul,
Spoke loud the languish of his yerning soul:
Ulysses
strait with indignation fir'd,
(For so the common care of
Greece
requir'd)
Firm to his lips his forceful hands apply'd,
'Till on his tongue the flutt'ring murmurs dy'd:
Mean-time
Minerva
from the fraudful horse,
Back to the Court of
Priam
bent your course.
Inclement fate!
Telemachus
replies,
Frail is the boasted attribute of wise:
The leader, mingling with the vulgar host,
Is in the common mass of matter lost!
But now let sleep the painful waste repair
Of sad reflection, and corroding care.
He ceas'd; the menial fair that round her wait,
At
Helen
's beck prepare the room of state:
Beneath an ample Portico, they spread
The downy fleece to form the slumbrous bed;
And o'er soft palls of purple grain unfold
Rich tapistry, stiff with inwoven gold:
Then thro' th'illumin'd dome, to balmy rest
Th'obsequious Herald guides each princely guest:
While to his regal bow'r the King ascends,
And beauteous
Helen
on her Lord attends.
Soon as the morn, in orient purple drest,
Unbarr'd the portal of the roseate east
The Monarch rose: magnificent to view,
Th'imperial mantle o'er his vest he threw;
The glitt'ring zone athwart his shoulder cast
A starry fauchion low-depending grac'd,
Clasp'd on his feet th'embroider'd sandals shine,
And forth he moves, majestic and divine:
Instant to young
Telemachus
he press'd,
And thus benevolent his speech address'd.
Say, royal youth, sincere of soul report
What cause hath led you to the
Spartan
court?
Do public or domestic cares constrain
This toilsom voyage o'er the surgy main?
O highly favour'd delegate of
Jove!
(Replies the Prince) inflam'd with filial love,
And anxious hope, to hear my parent's doom,
A suppliant to your royal court I come.
Our sovereign seat a lewd usurping race
With lawless riot, and mis-rule disgrace;
To pamper'd insolence devoted fall
Prime of the flock, and choicest of the stall:
For wild ambition wings their bold desire,
And all to mount th'imperial bed aspire.
But prostrate I implore, oh King! relate
The mournful series of my father's fate:
Each known disaster of the Man disclose,
Born by his mother to a world of woes!
Recite them! nor in erring pity fear
To wound with storied grief the filial ear:
If e'er
Ulysses,
to reclaim your right,
Avow'd his zeal in council or in fight,
If
Phrygian
camps the friendly toils attest,
To the sire's merit give the son's request.
Deep from his inmost soul
Atrides
sigh'd,
And thus indignant to the Prince reply'd:
Heav'ns! wou'd a soft, inglorious, dastard train
An absent heroe's nuptial joys profane!
So with her young, amid the woodland shades
A tim'rous hind the lion's court invades,
Leaves in that fatal laire the tender fawns,
Climbs the green cliff, or feeds the flow'ry lawns:
Mean-time return'd, with dire remorseless sway
The monarch-savage rends the trembling prey.
With equal fury, and with equal fame,
Ulysses
soon shall re-assert his claim.
O
Jove,
supreme, whom Gods and men revere!
And
Apollo.
thou, to whom 'tis giv'n to gild the sphere!
With pow'r congenial join'd, propitious aid
The chief adopted by the martial maid!
Such to our wish the warrior soon restore,
As when contending on the
Lesbian
shore
His prowess
Philomelides
confess'd,
And loud-acclaiming
Greeks
the victor bless'd:
Then soon th'invaders of his bed and throne,
Their love presumptuous shall with life atone.
With patient ear, oh royal youth, attend
The storied labours of thy father's friend:
Fruitful of deeds, the copious tale is long,
But truth severe shall dictate to my tongue:
Learn what I heard the sea-born Seer relate,
Whose eye can pierce the dark recess of fate.
Long on th'
Aegyptian
coast by calms confin'd,
Heav'n to my fleet refus'd a prosp'rous wind:
No vows had we prefer'd, nor victim slain!
For this the Gods each sav'ring gale restrain:
Jealous, to see their high behests obey'd,
Severe, if men th' eternal rights evade!
High o'er a gulphy sea, the
Pharian
Isle
Fronts the deep roar of disemboguing
Nile:
Her distance from the shore, the course begun
At dawn, and ending with the setting sun,
A gally measures; when the stiffer gales
Rise on the poop, and fully stretch the sails.
There anchor'd vessels safe in harbour lye,
Whilst limpid springs the failing cask supply.
And now the twentieth sun descending, laves
His glowing axle in the western waves;
Still with expanded sails we court in vain
Propitious winds, to waft us o'er the main:
And the pale mariner at once deplores
His drooping vigour, and exhausted stores.
When lo! a bright caerulean form appears,
The fair
Eidothea!
to dispel my fears;
Proteus
her sire divine. With pity press'd,
Me sole the daughter of the deep address'd;
What-time, with hunger pin'd, my absent mates
Roam the wild Isle in search of rural cates,
Bait the barb'd steel, and from the fishy flood
Appease th' afflictive fierce desire of food.
Whoe'er thou art, (the azure Goddess cries,)
Thy conduct ill deserves the praise of wise:
Is death thy choice, or misery thy boast,
That here inglorious on a barren coast
Thy brave associates droop, a meagre train
With famine pale, and ask thy care in vain?
Struck with the kind reproach, I strait reply;
Whate'er thy title in thy native sky,
A Goddess sure! for more than mortal grace
Speaks thee descendent of etherial race:
Deem not, that here of choice my fleet remains;
Some heav'nly pow'r averse my stay constrains:
O, piteous of my fate, vouchsafe to shew,
(For what's sequester'd from celestial view?)
What pow'r becalms th'innavigable seas?
What guilt provokes him, and what vows appease?
I ceas'd, when affable the Goddess cry'd;
Observe, and in the truths I speak confide:
Th'oraculous Seer frequents the
Pharian
coast,
From whose high bed my birth divine I boast;
Proteus,
a name tremendous o'er the main,
The delegate of
Neptune
's watry reign.
Watch with insidious care his known abode;
There fast in chains constrain the various God:
Who bound, obedient to superior force,
Unerring will prescribe your destin'd course.
If studious of your realms, you then demand
Their state, since last you left your natal land;
Instant the God obsequious will disclose
Bright tracks of glory, or a cloud of woes.
She ceas'd, and suppliant thus I made reply;
O Goddess! on thy aid my hopes rely:
Dictate propitious to my duteous ear,
What arts can captivate the changeful Seer?
For perilous th' assay, unheard the toil,
T' elude the prescience of a God by guile.
Thus to the Goddess mild my suit I end.
Then she. Obedient to my rule, attend:
When thro' the Zone of heav'n the mounted sun
Hath journey'd half, and half remains to run;
The Seer, while Zephyrs curl the swelling deep,
Basks on the breezy shore, in grateful sleep,
His oozy limbs. Emerging from the wave,
The
Phocae
swift surround his rocky cave,
Frequent and full; the consecrated train
Of
Amphitrite.
her, whose azure trident awes the main:
There wallowing warm, th'enormous herd exhales
An oily steam, and taints the noon-tide gales.
To that recess, commodious for surprize,
When purple light shall next suffuse the skies,
With me repair; and from thy warrior band
Three chosen chiefs of dauntless soul command:
Let their auxiliar force befriend the toil,
For strong the God, and perfected in guile.
Stretch'd on the shelly shore, he first surveys
The flouncing herd ascending from the seas;
Their number summ'd, repos'd in sleep profound
The scaly charge their guardian God surround:
So with his batt'ring flocks the careful swain
Abides, pavilion'd on the grassy plain.
With pow'rs united, obstinately bold
Invade him, couch'd amid the scaly fold:
Instant he wears, elusive of the rape,
The mimic force of every savage shape:
Or glides with liquid lapse a murm'ring stream,
Or wrapt in flame, he glows at every limb.
Yet still retentive, with redoubled might
Thro' each vain passive form constrain his flight.
But when, his native shape resum'd, he stands
Patient of conquest, and your cause demands;
The cause that urg'd the bold attempt declare,
And sooth the vanquish'd with a victor's pray'r.
The bands relax'd, implore the Seer to say
What godhead interdicts the wat'ry way?
Who strait propitious, in prophetic strain
Will teach you to repass th' unmeasur'd main.
She ceas'd, and bounding from the shelfy shore,
Round the descending nymph the waves redounding roar.
High rapt in wonder of the future deed,
With joy impetuous, to the port I speed:
The wants of nature with repast suffice,
'Till night with grateful shade involv'd the skies,
And shed ambrosial dews. Fast by the deep,
Along the tented shore, in balmy sleep
Our cares were lost. When o'er the eastern lawn,
In saffron robes the Daughter of the dawn
Advanc'd her rosy steps; before the bay,
Due ritual honours to the Gods I pay:
Then seek the place the sea-born nymph assign'd,
With three associates of undaunted mind.
Arriv'd, to form along th' appointed strand
For each a bed, she scoops the hilly sand:
Then from her azure car, the finny spoils
Of four vast
Phocae
takes, to veil her wiles;
Beneath the finny spoils extended prone,
Hard toil! the prophet's piercing eye to shun;
New from the corse, the scaly frauds diffuse
Unsavoury stench of oil, and brackish ooze:
But the bright sea-maid's gentle pow'r implor'd,
With nectar'd drops the sick'ning sense restor'd.
Thus 'till the sun had travel'd half the skies,
Ambush'd we lie, and wait the bold emprise:
When thronging thick to bask in open air,
The flocks of Ocean to the strand repair:
Couch'd on the sunny sand, the monsters sleep:
Then
Proteus
mounting from the hoary deep,
Surveys his charge, unknowing of deceit:
(In order told, we make the sum compleat.)
Pleas'd with the false review, secure he lies,
And leaden slumbers press his drooping eyes.
Rushing impetuous forth, we strait prepare
A furious onset with the sound of war,
And shouting seize the God: our force t'evade
His various arts he soon resumes in aid:
A Lion now, he curls a surgy mane;
Sudden, our bands a spotted Pard restrain;
Then arm'd with tusks, and lightning in his eyes,
A Boar's obscener shape the God belies:
On spiry volumes there a Dragon rides;
Here, from our strict embrace a Stream he glides:
And last, sublime his stately growth he rears,
A Tree, and well-dissembled foliage wears.
Vain efforts! with superior pow'r compress'd,
Me with reluctance thus the Seer address'd.
Say, son of
Atreus,
say what God inspir'd
This daring fraud, and what the boon desir'd?
I thus; O thou, whose certain eye foresees
The fix'd event of fate's remote decrees;
After long woes, and various toil endur'd,
Still on this desert Isle my fleet is moor'd;
Unfriended of the gales. All-knowing! say
What Godhead interdicts the wat'ry way?
What vows repentant will the Pow'r appease,
To speed a prosp'rous voyage o'er the seas?
To
Jove,
(with stern regard the God replies,)
And all th' offended synod of the skies;
Just hecatombs with due devotion slain,
Thy guilt absolv'd, a prosp'rous voyage gain.
To the firm sanction of thy fate attend!
An exile thou, nor cheering face of friend,
Nor sight of natal shore, nor regal dome
Shalt yet enjoy, but still art doom'd to roam.
Once more the
Nile,
who from the secret source
Of
Jove
's high seat descends with sweepy force,
Must view his billows white beneath thy oar,
And altars blaze along his sanguine shore.
Then will the Gods, with holy pomp ador'd,
To thy long vows a safe return accord.
He ceas'd: heart-wounded with afflictive pain,
(Doom'd to repeat the perils of the main,
A shelfy tract, and long!) O Seer, I cry,
To the stern sanction of th' offended sky
My prompt obedience bows. But deign to say,
What fate propitious, or what dire dismay
Sustain those Peers, the reliques of our host,
Whom I with
Nestor
on the
Phrygian
coast
Embracing left? Must I the warriors weep,
Whelm'd in the bottom of the monstrous deep?
Or did the kind domestic friend deplore
The breathless heroes on their native shore?
Press not too far, reply'd the God; but cease
To know, what known will violate thy peace:
Too curious of their doom! with friendly woe
Thy breast will heave, and tears eternal flow.
Part live; the rest, a lamentable train!
Range the dark bounds of
Pluto
's dreary reign.
Two, foremost in the roll of
Mars
renown'd,
Whose arms with conquest in thy cause were crown'd,
Fell by disastrous fate; by tempests tost,
A third lives wretched on a distant coast.
By
Neptune
rescu'd from
Minerva
's hate,
On
Gyrae
safe
Oilean Ajax
sate,
His ship o'erwhelm'd: but frowning on the floods,
Impious he roar'd defiance to the Gods:
To his own prowess all the glory gave,
The pow'r defrauding who vouchsaf'd to save.
This heard the raging Ruler of the main;
His spear, indignant for such high disdain,
He launch'd; dividing with his forky mace
Th' aerial summit from the marble base:
The rock rush'd sea-ward, with impetuous roar
Ingulf'd, and to th' abyss the boaster bore.
By
Juno
's guardian aid, the wat'ry Vast
Secure of storms, your royal brother past:
'Till coasting nigh the Cape, where
Malea
shrowds
Her spiry cliffs amid surrounding clouds;
A whirling gust tumultuous from the shore,
Across the deep his lab'ring vessel bore.
In an ill-fated hour the coast he gain'd,
Where late in regal pomp
Thyestes
reign'd;
But when his hoary honours bow'd to fate,
Aegisthus
govern'd in paternal state.
The surges now subside, the tempest ends;
From his tall ship the King of men descends:
There fondly thinks the Gods conclude his toil!
Far from his own domain salutes the soil;
With rapture oft the verge of
Greece
reviews,
And the dear turf with tears of joy bedews.
Him thus exulting on the distant strand,
A Spy distinguish'd from his airy stand;
To bribe whose vigilance,
Aegisthus
told
A mighty sum of ill-persuading gold:
There watch'd this guardian of his guilty fear,
'Till the twelfth moon had wheel'd her pale career;
And now admonish'd by his eye, to court
With terror wing'd conveys the dread report.
Of deathful arts expert, his Lord employs
The ministers of blood in dark surprize:
And twenty youths in radiant mail incas'd,
Close ambush'd nigh the spacious hall he plac'd.
Then bids prepare the hospitable treat:
Vain shews of love to veil his felon hate!
To grace the victor's welcome from the wars,
A train of coursers, and triumphal cars
Magnificent he leads: the royal guest
Thoughtless of ill, accepts the fraudful feast.
The troop forth issuing from the dark recess,
With homicidal rage the King oppress!
So, whilst he feeds luxurious in the stall,
The sov'reign of the herd is doom'd to fall.
The partners of his fame and toils at
Troy,
Around their Lord, a mighty ruin! lye:
Mix'd with the brave, the base invaders bleed;
Aegisthus
sole survives to boast the deed.
He said; chill horrors shook my shiv'ring soul,
Rack'd with convulsive pangs in dust I roul;
And hate, in madness of extreme despair,
To view the sun, or breathe the vital air.
But when superior to the rage of woe,
I stood restor'd, and tears had ceas'd to flow;
Lenient of grief, the pitying God began.—
Forget the brother, and resume the man:
To fate's supreme dispose the dead resign,
That care be fate's, a speedy passage thine.
Still lives the wretch who wrought the death deplor'd,
But lives a victim for thy vengeful sword;
Unless with filial rage
Orestes
glow,
And swift prevent the meditated blow:
You timely will return a welcome guest,
With him to share the sad funereal feast.
He said: new thoughts my beating heart employ,
My gloomy soul receives a gleam of joy.
Fair hope revives; and eager I addrest
The prescient Godhead to reveal the rest.
The doom decreed of those disastrous Two
I've heard with pain, but oh! the tale pursue;
What third brave son of
Mars
the fates constrain
To roam the howling desart of the main:
Or in eternal shade if cold he lies,
Provoke new sorrow from these grateful eyes.
That chief (rejoin'd the God) his race derives
From
Ithaca,
and wond'rous woes survives;
Laertes
' son: girt with circumfluous tides,
He still calamitous constraint abides.
Him in
Calypso
's cave of late I view'd,
When streaming grief his faded cheek bedew'd.
But vain his pray'r, his arts are vain to move
Th'enamour'd Goddess, or elude her love:
His vessel sunk, and dear companions lost,
He lives reluctant on a foreign coast.
But oh belov'd by heav'n! reserv'd to thee
A happier lot the smiling fates decree:
Free from that law, beneath whose mortal sway
Matter is chang'd, and varying forms decay;
Elysium
shall be thine; the blissful plains
Of utmost earth, where
Rhadamanthus
reigns.
Joys ever-young, unmix'd with pain or fear,
Fill the wide circle of th'eternal year:
Stern winter smiles on that auspicious clime:
The fields are florid with unfading prime:
From the bleak pole no winds inclement blow,
Mold the round hail, or flake the fleecy snow;
But from the breezy deep, the Blest inhale
The fragrant murmurs of the western gale.
This grace peculiar will the Gods afford
To thee the Son of
Jove,
and beauteous
Helen
's Lord.
He ceas'd, and plunging in the vast profound,
Beneath the God the whirling billows bound.
Then speeding back, involv'd in various thought,
My friends attending at the shore I sought.
Arriv'd, the rage of hunger we controll,
'Till night with silent shade invests the pole;
Then lose the cares of life in pleasing rest.—
Soon as the morn reveals the roseate east,
With sails we wing the masts, our anchors weigh,
Unmoor the fleet, and rush into the sea.
Rang'd on the banks, beneath our equal oars
White curl the waves, and the vex'd ocean roars.
Then steering backward from the
Pharian
Isle,
We gain the stream of
Jove
-descended
Nile:
There quit the ships, and on the destin'd shore
With ritual hecatombs the Gods adore:
Their wrath aton'd, to
Agamemnon
's name
A Cenotaph I raise of deathless fame.
These rites to piety and grief discharg'd,
The friendly Gods a springing gale inlarg'd:
The fleet swift tilting o'er the surges flew,
'Till
Grecian
cliffs appear'd, a blissful view!
Thy patient ear hath heard me long relate
A story, fruitful of disastrous fate:
And now, young Prince, indulge my fond request;
Be
Sparta
honour'd with his royal guest,
'Till from his eastern goal, the joyous sun
His twelfth diurnal race begins to run.
Mean-time my train the friendly gifts prepare,
Three sprightly coursers, and a polish'd car:
With these, a goblet of capacious mold,
Figur'd with art to dignify the gold,
(Form'd for libation to the Gods,) shall prove
A pledge and monument of sacred love.
My quick return, young
Ithacus
rejoin'd,
Damps the warm wishes of my raptur'd mind:
Did not my fate my needful haste constrain,
Charm'd by your speech, so graceful and humane,
Lost in delight the circling year wou'd roll,
While deep attention fix'd my list'ning soul.
But now to
Pyle
permit my destin'd way,
My lov'd associates chide my long delay.
In dear remembrance of your royal grace,
I take the present of the promis'd Vase;
The coursers for the champian sports, retain;
That gift our barren rocks will render vain:
Horrid with cliffs, our meagre land allows
Thin herbage for the mountain-goat to browze,
But neither mead nor plain supplies, to feed
The sprightly courser, or indulge his speed:
To sea-surrounded realms the Gods assign
Small tract of fertile lawn, the least to mine.
His hand the King with tender passion press'd,
And smiling thus, the royal Youth address'd:
O early worth! a soul so wise, and young,
Proclaims you from the sage
Ulysses
sprung.
Selected from my stores, of matchless price
An urn shall recompence your prudent choice:
Not mean the massy mold, of silver grac'd
By
Vulcan
's art, the verge with gold enchas'd:
A pledge the sceptred pow'r of
Sidon
gave,
When to his realm I plow'd the orient wave.
Thus they alternate; while with artful care
The menial train the regal feast prepare:
The firstlings of the flock are doom'd to dye;
Rich fragrant wines the cheering bowl supply;
A female band the gift of
Ceres
bring;
And the gilt roofs with genial triumph ring.
Mean-while, in
Ithaca,
the Suitor-powrs
In active games divide their jovial hours:
In
Areas
vary'd with mosaic art,
Some whirl the disk, and some the jav'lin dart.
Aside, sequester'd from the vast resort,
Antinous
sate spectator of the sport;
With great
Eurymachus,
of worth confest,
And high descent, superior to the rest;
Whom young
Noëmon
lowly thus addrest.
My ship equip'd within the neighb'ring port,
The Prince, departing for the
Pylian
court,
Requested for his speed; but, courteous, say
When steers he home, or why this long delay?
For
Elis
I shou'd sail with utmost speed,
T'import twelve mares which there luxurious feed,
And twelve young mules, a strong laborious race,
New to the plow, unpractis'd in the trace.
Unknowing of the course to
Pyle
design'd,
A sudden horror seiz'd on either mind:
The Prince in rural bow'r they fondly thought,
Numb'ring his flocks and herds, not far remote.
Relate,
Antinous
cries, devoid of guile,
When spread the Prince his sail for distant
Pyle?
Did chosen chiefs across the gulphy main
Attend his voyage, or domestic train?
Spontaneous did you speed his secret course,
Or was the vessel seiz'd by fraud or force?
With willing duty, not reluctant mind,
(
Noëmon
cry'd) the vessel was resign'd.
Who in the balance, with the great affairs
Of courts, presume to weigh their private cares?
With him, the peerage next in pow'r to you:
And
Mentor,
captain of the lordly crew,
Or some Celestial in his reverend form,
Safe from the secret rock and adverse storm,
Pilots their course: For when the glimm'ring ray
Of yester dawn disclos'd the tender day,
Mentor
himself I saw, and much admir'd.—
Then ceas'd the Youth, and from the court retir'd.
Confounded and appall'd, th'unfinish'd game
The Suitors quit, and all to council came:
Antinous
first th'assembled Peers addrest,
Rage sparkling in his eyes, and burning in his breast.
O shame to manhood! shall one daring boy
The scheme of all our happiness destroy?
Fly unperceiv'd, seducing half the flow'r
Of nobles, and invite a foreign pow'r?
The pond'rous engine rais'd to crush us all,
Recoiling, on his head is sure to fall.
Instant prepare me, on the neighb'ring strand,
With twenty chosen mates a vessel mann'd;
For ambush'd close beneath the
Samian
shore
His ship returning shall my spies explore:
He soon his rashness shall with life atone,
Seek for his father's fate, but find his own.
With vast applause the sentence all approve;
Then rise, and to the feastful hall remove:
Swift to the Queen the Herald
Medon
ran,
Who heard the consult of the dire Divan:
Before her dome the royal matron stands,
And thus the message of his haste demands.
What will the Suitors? must my servant train
Th' allotted labours of the day refrain,
For them to form some exquisite repast?
Heav'n grant this festival may prove their last!
Or if they still must live, from me remove
The double plague of luxury and love!
Forbear, ye sons of insolence! forbear,
In riot to consume a wretched heir.
In the young soul illustrious thought to raise,
Were ye not tutor'd with
Ulysses
' praise?
Have not your fathers oft my Lord defin'd,
Gentle of speech, beneficent of mind?
Some Kings with arbitrary rage devour,
Or in their tyrant-Minions vest the pow'r:
Ulysses
let no partial favours fall,
The people's parent, he protected all:
But absent now, perfidious and ingrate!
His stores ye ravage, and usurp his state.
He thus; O were the woes you speak the worst!
They form a deed more odious and accurst;
More dreadful than your boding soul divines:
But pitying
Jove
avert the dire designs!
The darling object of your royal care
Is mark'd to perish in a deathful snare:
Before he anchors in his native port,
From
Pyle
re-sailing and the
Spartan
court,
Horrid to speak! in ambush is decreed
The hope and heir of
Ithaca
to bleed!
Sudden she sunk beneath the weighty woes;
The vital streams a chilling horror froze:
The big round tear stands trembling in her eye,
And on her tongue imperfect accents dye.
At length, in tender language interwove
With sighs, she thus express'd her anxious love.
Why rashly wou'd my son his fate explore,
Ride the wild waves, and quit the safer shore?
Did he, with all the greatly wretched, crave
A blank oblivion, and untimely grave?
'Tis not, reply'd the Sage, to
Medon
giv'n
To know, if some inhabitant of heav'n,
In his young breast the daring thought inspir'd:
Or if alone with filial duty fir'd,
The winds and waves he tempts in early bloom,
Studious to learn his absent father's doom.
The Sage retir'd: Unable to controul
The mighty griefs that swell her lab'ring soul,
Rolling convulsive on the floor, is seen
The piteous object of a prostrate Queen.
Words to her dumb complaint a pause supplies,
And breath, to waste in unavailing cries.
Around their sov'reign wept the menial fair,
To whom she thus address'd her deep despair.
Behold a wretch whom all the Gods consign
To woe! Did ever sorrows equal mine?
Long to my joys my dearest Lord is lost,
His country's buckler, and the
Grecian
boast:
Now from my fond embrace by tempests torn,
Our other column of the state is born:
Nor took a kind adieu, nor sought consent!—
Unkind confed'rates in his dire intent!
Ill suits it with your shews of duteous zeal,
From me the purpos'd voyage to conceal:
Tho' at the solemn midnight hour he rose,
Why did you fear to trouble my repose?
He either had obey'd my fond desire,
Or seen his mother pierc'd with grief expire.
Bid
Dolius
quick attend, the faithful slave
Whom to my nuptial train
Icarius
gave,
To tend the fruit-groves: With incessant speed
He shall this violence of death decreed,
To good
Laertes
tell. Experienc'd age
May timely intercept their ruffian rage,
Convene the tribes, the murd'rous plot reveal,
And to their pow'r to save his race appeal.
Then
Euryclea
thus. My dearest dread!
Tho' to the sword I bow this hoary head,
Or if a dungeon be the pain decreed,
I own me conscious of th'unpleasing deed:
Auxiliar to his flight, my aid implor'd,
With wine and viands I the vessel stor'd:
A solemn oath impos'd the secret seal'd,
'Till the twelfth dawn the light of heav'n reveal'd.
Dreading th'effect of a fond mother's fear,
He dar'd not violate your royal ear.
But bathe, and in imperial robes array'd,
Pay due devotions to the
Minerva.
martial maid,
And rest affianc'd in her guardian aid.
Send not to good
Laertes,
nor engage
In toils of state the miseries of age:
'Tis impious to surmize, the pow'rs divine
To ruin doom the
Jove
-descended line:
Long shall the race of just
Arcesius
reign,
And Isles remote enlarge his old domain.
The Queen her speech with calm attention hears,
Her eyes restrain the silver-streaming tears:
She bathes, and rob'd, the sacred dome ascends;
Her pious speed a female train attends:
The salted cakes in canisters are laid,
And thus the Queen invokes
Minerva
's aid.
Daughter divine of
Jove,
whose arm can wield
Th'avenging bolt, and shake the dreadful shield!
If e'er
Ulysses
to thy fane prefer'd
The best and choicest of his flock and herd;
Hear, Goddess, hear, by those oblations won;
And for the pious sire preserve the son:
His wish'd return with happy pow'r befriend,
And on the suitors let thy wrath descend.
She ceas'd; shrill ecstasies of joy declare
The fav'ring Goddess present to the pray'r:
The Suitors heard, and deem'd the mirthful voice
A signal of her Hymenaeal choice:
Whilst one most jovial thus accosts the board;
" Too late the Queen selects a second lord:
" In evil hour the nuptial rite intends,
" When o'er her son disastrous death impends."
Thus he, unskill'd of what the fates provide!
But with severe rebuke
Antinous
cry'd.
These empty vaunts will make the voyage vain;
Alarm not with discourse the menial train:
The great event with silent hope attend;
Our deeds alone our council must commend.
His speech thus ended short, he frowning rose,
And twenty chiefs renown'd for valour chose:
Down to the strand he speeds with haughty strides,
Where anchor'd in the bay the vessel rides;
Replete with mail, and military store,
In all her tackle trim, to quit the shore.
The desp'rate crew ascend, unfurl the sails;
(The sea-ward prow invites the tardy gales)
Then take repast, 'till
Hesperus
display'd
His golden circlet in the western shade.
Mean-time the Queen without refection due,
Heart-wounded, to the bed of state withdrew:
In her sad breast the Prince's fortunes roul,
And hope and doubt alternate seize her soul.
So when the wood-man's toyl her cave surrounds
And with the hunter's cry the grove resounds;
With grief and rage the mother-lion stung,
Fearless herself, yet trembles for her young.
While pensive in the silent slumb'rous shade,
Sleep's gentle pow'rs her drooping eyes invade;
Minerva,
life-like on imbody'd air,
Impress'd the form of
Iphthima
the fair:
(
Icarius
' daughter she, whose blooming charms
Allur'd
Eumelus
to her virgin-arms;
A sceptred Lord, who o'er the fruitful plain
Of
Thessaly
wide stretch'd his ample reign:)
As
Pallas
will'd, along the sable skies
To calm the Queen the Phantom-sister flies.
Swift on the regal dome descending right,
The bolted Valves are pervious to her flight.
Close to her head the pleasing vision stands,
And thus performs
Minerva
's high commands.
O why,
Penelope,
this causeless fear,
To render sleep's soft blessing unsincere?
Alike devote to sorrow's dire extreme
The day reflection, and the midnight dream!
Thy son, the Gods propitious will restore,
And bid thee cease his absence to deplore.
To whom the Queen, (whilst yet her pensive mind
Was in the silent gates of sleep confin'd)
O sister, to my soul for ever dear,
Why this first visit to reprove my fear?
How in a realm so distant shou'd you know
From what deep source my ceaseless sorrows flow?
To all my hope my royal Lord is lost,
His country's buckler, and the
Grecian
boast:
And with consummate woe to weigh me down,
The heir of all his honours, and his crown,
My darling son is fled! an easy prey
To the fierce storms, or men more fierce than they:
Who in a league of blood associates sworn,
Will intercept th'unwary Youth's return.
Courage resume, the shadowy form reply'd,
In the protecting care of heav'n confide:
On him attends the blue-ey'd martial Maid;
What earthly can implore a surer aid?
Me now the guardian Goddess deigns to send,
To bid thee patient his return attend.
The Queen replies: If in the blest abodes,
A Goddess thou, hast commerce with the Gods;
Say, breathes my Lord the blissful realm of light,
Or lies he wrapt in ever-during night?
Enquire not of his doom, the Phantom cries,
I speak not all the counsel of the skies:
Nor must indulge with vain discourse, or long,
The windy satisfaction of the tongue.
Swift thro' the valves the visionary fair
Repass'd, and viewless mix'd with common air.
The Queen awakes, deliver'd of her woes;
With florid joy her heart dilating glows:
The vision, manifest of future fate,
Makes her with hope her son's arrival wait.
Mean-time the Suitors plow the wat'ry plain,
Telemachus
in thought already slain!
When sight of less'ning
Ithaca
was lost,
Their sail directed for the
Samian
coast,
A small but verdant Isle appear'd in view,
And
Asteris
th'advancing Pilot knew:
An ample port the rocks projected form,
To break the rowling waves, and ruffling storm:
That safe recess they gain with happy speed,
And in close ambush wait the murd'rous deed.
W.K.
P.F.sc.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE FOURTH BOOK.
OBSERVATIONS ON THE FOURTH BOOK.
I.
A RISTOTLE
in his Poetics reports, that certain ancient Critics reproached
Homer
for an indecency in making
Telemachus
take his abode with
Menelaus,
and not with his own grandfather
Icarius:
this Monsieur
Dacier
sufficiently answers, by shewing that
Icarius
had settled himself in
Acarnania,
and not in
Lacedaemon.
II.
VERSE 5.—
invoking
Hymen
's pow'r.
]
Athenaeus
has been very severe upon this passage, as
Eustathius
observes, and
Dacier
from
Eustathius.
Aristarchus,
says
Athenaeus,
misguides us, the words
, led him into an error; whereas the marriage is compleated, the wedded couples gone away from
Menelaus,
and he and
Helen
are alone at
Lacedaemon.
The five verses, continues he, (the fifteenth to the twentieth inclusively) are taken from the 18th book of the
Iliads,
and inserted very improperly in this place by
Aristarchus. Athenaeus
gives several reasons for his opinion, as that music and dancing were very contrary to the severe manners of the
Lacedaemonians
; besides the dance was a
Cretan
dance, how then could it be practis'd among the
Spartans?
The Poet mentions neither the name of the Bard, nor one word of the subject of the songs: neither can the words
, be apply'd at all to the Dancers, but to the Musicians; and lastly, it is not to be imagin'd that
Telemachus
and
Pisistratus
should be so unpolite, as not to be at all affected with the music, had there been any, and yet break out into such wonder at the sight of the beauty of the Palace of
Menelaus. Aristarchus,
adds he, thought the description of the wedding of the son and daughter of a King was too meanly and concisely describ'd, and therefore made this addition.
But it is easy to refute
Athenaeus,
and vindicate
Aristarchus. Athenaeus
understood
and
in the wrong sense, they are of the imperfect,
he was sending,
or
about to send,
and not
had sent,
&c. If the marriage had been absolutely finish'd, why should
Minerva
absent her self from
Menelaus,
when the celebration of the nuptials is the only reason of the absence of that Goddess? and as for music and dancing being contrary to the severe manners of the
Lacedaemonians,
this is all conjecture:
Menelaus
lived more than three hundred years before
Lycurgus
; and because such diversions were forbid in
Sparta
in the days of
Lycurgus,
must it follow that they were not used in those of
Menelaus?
And should it be granted that music and dancing were not used in his times, might he not relax a little from the severity of his times, upon such an occasion of joy as the marriage of a son and daughter? I am sure these diversions are not more contrary to the severity of the
Spartans,
than the magnificence of the Palace of
Menelaus
was to their simplicity.
"But he does not name the Bard, or the subject of his songs":
But is this a reason why the verses are spurious? we should rather admire the judgment of the Poet, who having so fair an opportunity to describe these nuptials, yet rejects the temptation, dismisses the whole in a few lines, and follows where his subject leads him. The objection about the dance being
Cretan
is not more valid:
Menelaus
(as we learn from the preceding book) had been in
Crete,
and might bring it thence to
Lacedaemon.
And as for the Criticism upon
it is but a fallacy;
Casaubon
has shewn beyond contradiction, that
is apply'd indifferently to all those who give example to others; and consequently may be apply'd to Dancers as well as Musicians. It may be further added, that although it should be allow'd that the word
is only properly apply'd to music, yet in this place the word would not be improperly apply'd to dancers; for the dancers, without usurping upon the province of the singer, might
, or chuse those songs, to which they desired to dance; as is the usage at this day.
Diodorus
is of opinion, that the whole twelve lines after the second to the fifteenth are not genuine; but what has been said of
Athenaeus,
may be apply'd to
Diodorus.
III.
VERSE 37.
Menelaus
blames
Eteoneus.]
This is the first appearance of
Menelaus
; and surely nothing can more reconcile him to the favour of the spectators, than those amiable colours in which the Poet paints him. There is an overflow of humanity and gratitude in his expressions, like that of
Dido
in
Virgil,
Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco.
They contain a fine piece of morality, and teach that those men are more tender-hearted and humane who have felt the reverse of fortune, than those who have only liv'd in a condition of prosperity.
IV.
VERSE 81.
Soft-whisp'ring thus to
Nestor
's son.
]
This may be thought a circumstance of no importance, and very trivial in
Telemachus
; but it shews his address and decency: He whispers, to avoid the appearance of a flatterer, or to conceal his own inexperience, in shewing too much surprize at the magnificence of the Palace of
Menelaus.
Eustathius.
V.
VERSE 91.
The Monarch took the word,
&c.]
The ancients, says
Eustathius,
observe the prudence of
Menelaus
in his reply to
Telemachus
; and the prudence of
Telemachus
in his behaviour to
Menelaus: Menelaus
denies not his riches and magnificence, but to take off the envy which they might attract, he throws the calamities he has undergone into the contrary scale, and balances his felicity with his misfortunes: And
Telemachus
coming into the Palace at the time of an entertainment, chuses to satisfie his curiosity rather than his appetite.
Plutarch
I confess condemns
Telemachus
of inexperience; who when he saw the Palace of
Nestor
furnish'd only with things useful to life, as beds, tables,
&c.
is seiz'd with no admiration; but the superfluities of
Menelaus,
his ivory, amber and gold,
&c.
carry him into transports: whereas a
Socrates
or a
Diogenes
would have exclaim'd, What heaps of vanities have I beheld! 'Tis true, such a judgment might become Philosophers; but who, as
Dacier
observes, can think the character of a
Socrates
or a
Diogenes
suitable to young
Telemachus?
What is decent in a Prince, and a young man, would ill become the gravity and wisdom of a Philosopher.
VI.
VERSE 100.
Thro' regions fatten'd with the flows of
Nile.
Next,
Aethiopia
, &c.
]
The words are in the original
, others read them
, from their veracity in oracles, for which they were very famous; and indeed the word
is not necessary, it being used in the very same sentence, tho' it must be confess'd such repetitions are frequent in
Homer.
There is also a different reading of the word
; some have it
, or
Blacks
; others,
; but the common reading is thought the best. The
Erembri
are the
Arabian
Troglodytes.
Strabo
informs us, that in former ages the bounds of the
Aethiopians
lay near to
Thebes
in
Aegypt,
so that
Menelaus
travelling to
Thebes,
might with ease visit the
Aethiopians.
Others have without any foundation imagin'd that he pass'd the streights of
Gibraltar,
and sail'd to the
Indies. Sidon
is the capital of the
Phaenicians.
Eustathius.
VII.
VERSE 105.—
Where each revolving year
The teeming Ewes,
&c.]
These sheep, as describ'd by
Homer,
may be thought the creation of the Poet, and not the production of nature: But
Herodotus,
says
Eustathius,
writes, that in
Scythia
the oxen have no horns thro' the extremity of the cold: He quotes this very verse, rightly intimating, adds
Herodotus,
that in hot regions the horns of cattle shoot very speedily.
Aristotle
directly asserts, that in
Libya
the young ones of horned cattle have horns immediately after they are brought into the world. So that
Aristotle
and
Herodotus
vindicate
Homer.
The Poet adds, that the sheep breed three times in the year; these words may have a different interpretation, and imply that they breed in three seasons of the year, and not only in the spring as in other countries; or that the sheep have at once three lambs; but the first is the better interpretation.
Athenaeus
upon this passage writes, that there are things in other countries no less strange than what
Homer
relates of these sheep of
Libya.
Thus in
Lusitania
a country of
Spain,
now
Portugal,
there is a wonderful fruitfulness in all cattle, by reason of the excellent temper of the air; the fruits there never rot, and the roses, violets and asparagus, never fail above three months in the year.
Eustathius.
VIII.
VERSE 114.
The best of brothers,—
—a traitress wife.
Menelaus
neither mentions
Agamemnon, Clytemnestra,
nor
Aegysthus
by name: a just indignation and resentment is the occasion of his suppressing the names of
Clytemnestra
and
Aegysthus.
Thro' the whole
Iliad Menelaus
is describ'd as a very affectionate brother, and the love he bears
Agamemnon
is the reason why he passes by his name in silence. We see that he dispatches the whole in one verse and a half;
Nestor
had told the story pretty largely in the preceding book, and as he was a person less nearly concern'd, might speak of it with more ease and better temper than
Menelaus
; the Poet avoids a needless repetition, and a repetition too of a story universally known to all the
Greeks.
The death of
Agamemnon
is distributed into four places in the
Odyssey
;
Nestor, Menelaus, Proteus,
and the shade of
Agamemnon
in the 11th book, all relate it, and every one very properly.
Proteus
as a prophet more fully than
Nestor
or
Menelaus,
and
Agamemnon
more fully than them all, as being best acquainted with it.
Eustathius.
IX.
VERSE 119.
My wars, the copious theme,
&c.]
In the original
Menelaus
says,
I have destroy'd a house,
&c. There is an ambiguity in the expression, as
Eustathius
observes: for it may either signify the
house of
Priam, or his own in
Argos
; if it be understood of his own, then the meaning is,
"I have indeed great wealth, but have purchas'd it with the loss of my people; I could be content with the third part of it, if I could restore those to life who have perish'd before
Troy.
"
If it be understood of the kingdom of
Priam,
the regret he shews will still appear the greater. He is enumerating his domestic happiness, and his forein conquest of
Troy
; but he throws the destruction of so many brave men who fell before it, in the contrary scale; and it so far outweighs both his wealth and his glory, that they both are joyless to him. Either of these interpretations shew an excellent temper of humanity in
Menelaus,
who thinks the effusion of blood too dear a price for glory. At the same time the Poet gives an admirable picture of human nature, which is restless in the pursuit of what it miscalls happiness, and when in possession of it, neglects it. But the disquiet of
Menelaus
arises not from inconstancy of temper, but wisdom; it shews that all happiness is unsatisfactory.
X.
VERSE 131.
But oh!
Ulysses—
&c.
]
It is with admirable address that the Poet falls into his subject; it is art, but yet it seems to be nature: This conduct has a double effect, it takes away all suspicion of flattery, for
Menelaus
is ignorant that the person with whom he discourses is
Telemachus,
this gives him a manifest evidence of the love he bears to
Ulysses
; the young man could not but be pleased with the praise of his father, and with the sincerity of it. It is also observable, that
Menelaus
builds his friendship for
Ulysses
upon a noble foundation; I mean the sufferings which
Ulysses
underwent for his friend:
Menelaus
ascribes not their affection to any familiarity or Intercourse of entertainments, but to a more sincere cause, to the hazards which brave men undertake for a friend. In short, the friendship of
Menelaus
and
Ulysses
is the friendship of Heroes.
Eustathius.
XI.
VERSE 157.—
Bright
Helen
grac'd the room.
]
Menelaus
conjectur'd that the person he had entertain'd was the son of
Ulysses,
from the tears he shed at the name of his father, and from the resemblance there was between
Ulysses
and
Telemachus
; it might therefore have been expected that
Menelaus
should immediately have acknowledg'd
Telemachus,
and not delay'd a full discovery one moment, out of regard to his absent friend; but
Menelaus
defers it upon a twofold account, to give some time to
Telemachus
to indulge his sorrow for his father, and recover himself from it, and also to avoid the repetition of a discovery upon the appearance of
Helen,
who would be curious to know the condition of the strangers.
It may be necessary to say something concerning
Helen,
that fatal beauty that engag'd
Greece
and
Asia
in arms; she is drawn in the same colours in the
Odyssey
as in the
Iliad
; it is a vicious character, but the colours are so admirably soften'd by the art of the Poet, that we pardon her infidelity.
Menelaus
is an uncommon instance of conjugal affection, he forgives a wife who had been false to him, and receives her into a full degree of favour. But perhaps the Reader might have been shock'd at it, and prejudiced against
Helen
as a person that ought to be forgot, or have her name only mention'd to disgrace it: The Poet therefore, to reconcile her to his Reader, brings her in as a penitent, condemning her own infidelity in very strong expressions; she shews true modesty, when she calls herself impudent, and by this conduct we are inclined, like
Menelaus,
to forgive her.
XII.
VERSE 161. &c.
Adraste, Alcippe, Helen
's Maids.
]
It has been observ'd, that
Helen
has not the same attendants in the
Odessey
as she had in the
Iliad
; they perhaps might be
Trojans,
and consequently be left in their own country; or rather, it was an act of prudence in
Menelaus,
not to suffer those servants about her who had been her attendants and confidents in her infidelity.
Eustathius.
XIII.
VERSE 192.—
The grace and air
Of young
Telemachus!]
It may seem strange that
Helen
should at first view recollect the features of
Ulysses
in
Telemachus
; and that
Menelaus,
who was better acquainted with him, and his constant friend, should not make the same observation. But
Athenaeus,
to reconcile this to probability, says, that women are curious and skilful observers of the likeness of children to parents, for one particular reason, that they may, upon finding any dissimilitude, have the pleasure of hinting at the Unchastity of others.
XIV.
VERSE 234.
For his abode a Capital prepar'd.
]
The Poet puts these words in the mouth of
Menelaus,
to express the sincerity of his friendship to
Ulysses
; he intended him all advantage, and no detriment: we must therefore conclude, that
Ulysses
was still to retain his sovereignty over
Ithaca,
and only remove to
Argos,
to live with so sincere a friend as
Menelaus.
Eustathius.
XV.
VERSE 249.—
A gust of grief began to rise,
&c.]
It has been observ'd thro' the
Iliad,
and may be observ'd through the whole
Odyssey,
that it was not a disgrace to the greatest Heroes to shed tears; and indeed I cannot see why it should be an honour to any man, to be able to divest himself of humane nature so far as to appear insensible upon the most affecting occasions; No man is born a Stoic; it is art, not nature; tears are only a shame, when the cause from whence they flow is mean or vicious. Here
Menelaus
laments a friend,
Telemachus
a father,
Pisistratus
a brother: but from what cause arise the tears of
Helen?
It is to be remember'd that
Helen
is drawn in the softest colours in the
Odyssey
; the character of the adultress is lost in that of the penitent; the name of
Ulysses
throws her into tears, because she is the occasion of all the sufferings of that brave man; the Poet makes her the first in sorrow, as she is the cause of all their tears.
XVI.
VERSE 265.
Let not your roof with echoing grief resound,
Now for the feast the friendly howl is crown'd.
It may be ask'd why sorrow for the dead should be more unseasonable in the evening than the morning?
Eustathius
answers, lest others should look upon our evening tears as the effect of wine, and not of love to the dead.
Intempestiores venit inter pocula fletus.
Nee lacrymas dulci fas est miscere falerno.
I fancy there may be a more rational account given of this expression; The time of feasting was ever look'd upon as a time of joy, and thanksgiving to the Gods; it bore a religious veneration among the Ancients, and consequently to shed tears when they should express their gratitude to the Gods with joy, was esteem'd a prophanation.
XVII.
VERSE 301.
Bright
Helen
mix'd a mirth-inspiring bowl,
&c.]
The conjectures about this cordial of
Helen
have been almost infinite. Some take
Nepenthes
allegorically, to signify History, Music, or Philosophy.
Plutarch
in the first of the
Symposiacs
affirms it to be, discourse well suiting the present passions and conditions of the hearers.
Macrobius
is of the same opinion,
Delinimentum illud quod Helena vino miscuit, non herba fuit, non ex Indiâ succus, sed narrandi opportunitas, quae hospitem maeroris oblitum flexit ad gaudium.
What gave a foundation to this fiction of
Homer,
as
Dacier
observes, might be this.
Diodorus
writes that in
Aegypt,
and chiefly at
Heliopolis,
the same with
Thebes
where
Menelaus
sojourn'd, as has been already observ'd, there lived women who boasted of certain potions which not only made the unfortunate forget all their calamities, but drove away the most violent sallies of grief or anger.
Eusebius
directly affirms, that even in his time the women of
Diospolis
were able to calm the rage of grief or anger by certain potions. Now whether this be truth or fiction, it fully vindicates
Homer,
since a Poet may make use of a prevailing, tho' false, opinion.
Milton
mentions this
Nepenthes
in his excellent Masque of
Comus.
—Behold this cordial Julep here,
That flames and dances in his chrystal bounds!
Not that
Nepenthes
which the wife of
Thone
In
Aegypt
gave to
Jove
-born
Helena,
Is of such pow'r as this to stir up joy,
To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst.
But that there may be something more than fiction in this is very probable, since the
Aegyptians
were so notoriously skill'd in physick; and particularly since this very
Thon,
or
Thonis,
or
Thoon,
is reported by the ancients to have been the inventor of physic among the
Aegyptians.
The description of this
Nepenthes
agrees admirably with what we know of the qualities and effects of
Opium.
It is further said of
Thon,
that he was King of
Canopus,
and entertain'd
Menelaus
hospitably before he had seen
Helen
; but afterwards falling in love with her, and offering violence, he was slain by
Menelaus.
From his name the
Aegyptians
gave the name of
Thoth
to the first month of their year, and also to a city the name of
Thonis. Aelian
writes that
Menelaus
when he travell'd to the
Aethiopians,
committed
Helen
to the protection of
Thonis
; that she fell in love with him, that
Polydamna
growing jealous confin'd her to the Island
Pharos,
but gave her an herb to preserve her from the poison of serpents there frequent, which from
Helen
was call'd
Helenium. Strabo
writes, that at
Canopus
on the mouth of
Nile
there stands a city named
Thonies,
from King
Thonis,
who receiv'd
Helen
and
Menelaus. Herodotus
relates, that
Thonis
was Governor of
Canopus,
that he represented the injury which
Paris
had done to
Menelaus,
to
Proteus
who reign'd in
Memphis.
Eustathius.
This last remark from
Herodotus
is sufficient to shew, that
Homer
is not so fictitious as is generally imagined, that there really was a King named
Proteus,
that the Poet builds his fables upon truth, and that it was truth that originally determin'd
Homer
to introduce
Proteus
into his Poetry; but I intend to explain this more largely in the story of
Proteus.
XVIII.
VERSE 331.
My self—
Will tell
Ulysses'
bold exploit—
]
What is here related shews the necessity of the introduction of
Helen,
and the use the Poet makes of it: she is not brought in merely as a
muta Persona,
to fill up the number of persons; but she relates several incidents, in which she her self was concern'd, and which she could only know; and consequently not only diversisies, but carries on the design of the story.
Eustathius.
XIX.
VERSE 335.
Seam'd o'er with wounds,
&c.]
The Poet here shews his judgment in passing over many instances of the sufferings of
Ulysses,
and relating this piece of conduct, not mention'd by any other Author. The art of
Ulysses
in extricating himself from difficulties is laid down as the groundwork of the Poem, he is
, and this is an excellent example of it. This further shews the necessity of the appearance of
Helen,
no other person being acquainted with the story. If this stratagem be not a reality, yet it bears the resemblance of it; and
Megabysus
the
Persian
(as
Eustathius
observes) practis'd it, as we learn from history. We may reasonably conjecture that
Ulysses
was committed to
Helen,
in hopes that he would discover the affairs of the army more freely to her than any other person: for what could be more agreeable to a
Greek,
than to be committed to the care of a
Greek,
as
Ulysses
was to
Helen?
By the same conduct the Poet raises the character of
Helen,
by making her shew her repentance by an act of generosity to her countryman. The original says she gave an oath to
Ulysses
not to discover him before he was in Safety in the
Grecian
army: Now this does not imply that she ever discover'd to the
Trojans
that
Ulysses
had enter'd
Troy:
the contrary opinion is most probable; for it cannot be imagin'd but all
Troy
must have been incens'd greatly against her, had they known that she had conceal'd one of their mortal enemies, and dismiss'd him in safety: It was sufficient for
Ulysses
to take her oath that she would not discover him, 'till he was in security: he left her future conduct to her own discretion. It is probable that she furnish'd
Ulysses
with a sword, for in his return he slew many
Trojans:
He came to
Troy,
observes
Eustathius,
in rags, and like a slave; and to have conceal'd a sword, would have endanger'd his life upon a discovery of it, and given strong suspicions of an impostor.
XX.
VERSE 351.
Exploring then the secrets of the state.
]
The word
is here used in a large sense: it takes in all the observations
Ulysses
made during his continuance in
Troy
; it takes in the designs and counsels of the enemy, his measuring the gates, the height of the walls, the easiest plan for an assault or ambush, the taking away the
Palladium,
or whatever else a wise man may be suppos'd to observe, or act, in execution of such a stratagem.
Eustathius.
XXI.
VERSE 357.
For then with dire remorse,
&c.]
The conclusion of this speech is very artful:
Helen
ascribes her seduction to
Venus,
and mentions nothing of
Paris.
Instead of naming
Troy,
she conceals it, and only says she was carry'd thither, leaving
Troy
to the imagination of
Menelaus
; she suffers not herself to mention names so odious now to herself, and ever to
Menelaus,
as
Paris
and
Troy.
She compliments
Menelaus
very handsomely, and says, that he wanted no accomplishment either in mind or body: It being the nature of man not to resent the injuries of a wife so much upon the account of her being corrupted, but of the preference she gives to another person; he looks upon such a preference as the most affecting part of the injury.
Eustathius.
XXII.
VERSE 365.
Menelaus
's answer.
]
The judgment of the Poet in continuing the story concerning
Ulysses
is not observ'd by any Commentator.
Ulysses
is the chief Heroe of the Poem, every thing should have a reference to him, otherwise the narration stands still without any advance towards the conclusion of it. The Poet therefore to keep
Ulysses
in our minds, dwells upon his sufferings and adventures: he supplies his not appearing in the present scene of Action, by setting his character before us, and continually forcing his prudence, patience, and valour upon our observation. He uses the same art and judgment with relation to
Achilles
in the
Iliads
: The Heroe of the Poem is absent from the chief scenes of action during much of the time which that Poem comprises, but he is continually brought into the mind of the Reader, by recounting his exploits and glory.
XXIII.
VERSE 375.
Some Daemon anxious for the
Trojan
doom.
]
It is the observation of
Eustathius,
that these words are very artfully introduced to vindicate
Helen
; They imply that what she acted was by compulsion, and to evidence this more clearly,
Deiphobus
is given her for an attendant as a spy upon her actions, that she might not conceal any thing that should happen, but act her part well by endeavouring to deceive the
Greeks
in favour of
Troy.
It is the Daemon, not
Helen,
that is in fault; this, continues
Eustathius,
answers many objections that lye against
Helen
; for if she was a real penitent, as she her self affirms, how comes she to endeavour to deceive the
Greeks,
by the disguise of her voice, into more misery than had yet arisen from a ten years war? Or indeed is it credible that any person could modulate her voice so artfully as to resemble so many voices? And how could the
Greeks
enclosed in the wooden horse believe that their wives who were in
Greece,
could be arriv'd in so short a space as they had been conceal'd there, from the various regions of
Greece,
and meet together in
Troy?
Would the wives of these Heroes come into an enemy's country, when the whole army, except these latent Heroes, were retir'd from it? this is ridiculous and impossible. I must confess there is great weight in these objections: But
Eustathius
answers all by the interposition of the Daemon; and by an idle tradition that
Helen
had the name of
Echo,
from the faculty of mimicking sounds; and that this gift was bestow'd upon her by
Venus
when she married
Menelaus,
that she might be able to detect him if he should prove false to her bed, by imitating the voice of the suspected person: (but
Menelaus
had more occasion for this faculty than
Helen.
) As for the excuse of the Daemon, it equally excuses all crimes: For instance, was
Helen
false to
Menelaus?
The Daemon occasion'd it: Does she act an imposture to destroy all her
Grecian
friends, and even
Menelaus?
The Daemon compells her to it: The Daemon compells her to go with
Deiphobus,
to surround the horse thrice, to sound the sides of it, to endeavour to surprize the latent
Greeks
by an imition of the voices of their wives, and in short, to act like a person that was very sincere in mischief.
Dacier
takes another course, and gives up
Helen,
but remarks the great address of
Menelaus. Helen
had, said she, long desired nothing so much as to return to
Lacedaemon
; and her heart had long been wholly turn'd to
Menelaus: Menelaus
is not at all convinc'd of this pretended sincerity; but it would have been too gross, after he had taken her again to his bed, to convict her of falshood: He therefore contents himself barely to reply that some Daemon, an enemy to the
Greeks,
had forc'd her to a conduct disagreeable to her sincerity. This (continues
Dacier
) is an artful, but severe Irony.
As for the objection concerning the impossibility of the
Greeks
believing their wives could be in
Troy
; she answers, that the Authors of this objection have not sufficiently consider'd human nature. The voice of a belov'd person might of a sudden, and by surprize, draw from any person a word involuntary, before he has time to make reflection. This undoubtedly is true, where circumstances make an imposture probable; but here is an impossibility; it is utterly impossible to believe the wives of these Heroes could be in
Troy.
Besides,
Menelaus
himself tells us, that even he had fallen into the snare, but
Ulysses
prevented it; this adds to the incredibility of the story, for if this faculty of mimickry was given upon his marriage with
Helen,
it was nothing new to him, he must be suppos'd to be acquainted with it, and consequently be the less liable to surprize: Nay it is not impossible, but the experiment might have been made upon him before
Helen
fled away with
Paris.
In short, I think this passage wants a further vindication: the circumstances are low, if not incredible.
Virgil,
the great imitator of
Homer,
has given us a very different and more noble description of the destruction of
Troy:
he has not thought fit to imitate him in this description.
If we allow
Helen
to act by compulsion, to have fear'd the
Trojans,
and that
Deiphobus
was sent as a spy upon her actions; yet this is no vindication of her conduct: she still acts a mean part, and thro' fear becomes an accomplice in endeavouring to betray and ruin the
Greeks.
I shall just add, that after the death of
Paris, Helen
married
Deiphobus
; that the story of the wooden horse is probably founded upon the taking of
Troy
by an engine call'd a Horse, as the like engine was call'd a Ram by the
Romans.
XXIV.
VERSE 447.
Heav'ns! would a soft, inglorious, dastard train.
]
Menelaus
is fir'd with indignation at the injuries offer'd his friend by the Suitors: he breaks out into an exclamation, and in a just contempt vouchsafes not to mention them: he thinks he fully distinguishes whom he intends, by calling them
those cowards.
The comparison which he introduces is very just, they are the Fawns,
Ulysses
is the Lion.
This is the first Simile that
Homer
has inserted in the
Odyssey
; but I cannot think it proceeded from a barrenness of invention, or thro'phlegm in the declension of his years, as some have imagin'd. The nature of the Poem requires a difference of stile from the
Iliad:
The
Iliad
rushes along like a torrent; the
Odyssey
flows; gently on like a deep stream, with a smooth tranquility:
Achilles
is all fire,
Ulysses
all wisdom.
The Simile in
Homer
is really beautiful; but in
Hobbs
ridiculous.
As when a stag and hind ent'ring the den
Of th' absent Lion, lulls his whelps with tales,
Of hills and dales; the Lion comes agen,
And tears them into pieces with his nails.
Can any thing be more foreign to the sense of
Homer,
or worse translated? He construes
, by telling stories of hills and dales to the Lion's whelps, instead of
Juga investigat:
but such mistakes are so frequent in
Hobbs,
that one would almost suspect his learning in
Greek:
he has disgraced the best Poet, and a very great Historian;
Homer,
and
Thucydides.
XXV.
VERSE 462.
As when contending on the
Lesbian
shore.
]
The Poet here gives an account of one of
Ulysses
's adventures.
Philomelides
was King of
Lesbos,
and
Eustathius
observes, that there was a tradition that
Ulysses
and
Diomedes
slew him, and turn'd a stately monument he had rais'd for himself into a public place for the reception of strangers.
XXVI.
VERSE 479.—
The
Pharian
Isle.
]
This description of
Pharos
has given great trouble to the Critics and Geographers; it is generally concluded, that the distance of
Pharos
is about seven Stadia from
Alexandria
;
Ammianus Marcellinus
mentions this very passage thus,
lib.
22.
Insula Pharos, ubi Protea cum Phocarum gregibus diversatum Homerus fabulatur inflatius, a civitatis littore mille passibus disparata,
or,
about a mile distant from the shores.
How then comes
Homer
to affirm it to be distant a full day's sail?
Dacier
answers, that
Homer
might have heard that the
Nile,
continually bringing down much earthy substance, had enlarg'd the continent: and knowing it not to be so distant in his time, took the liberty of a Poet, and describ'd it as still more distant in the days of
Menelaus.
But
Dacier
never sees a mistake in
Homer.
Had his Poetry been worse if he had describ'd the real distance of
Pharos?
It is allowable in a Poet to disguise the truth, to adorn his story; but what ornament has he given his Poetry by this enlargement?
Bochart
has fully prov'd that there is no accession to the Continent from any substance that the
Nile
brings down with it: the violent agitation of the seas prohibit it from lodging, and forming it self into solidity.
Eratosthenes
is of opinion, that
Homer
was ignorant of the mouths of
Nile
: but
Strabo
answers, that his silence about them is not an argument of his ignorance, for neither has he ever mention'd where he was born. But
Strabo
does not enter fully into the meaning of
Eratosthenes
:
Eratosthenes
does not mean that
Homer
was ignorant of the mouths of
Nile
from his silence, but because he places
Pharos
at the distance of a whole day's sail from the Continent. The only way to unite this inconsistence is to suppose, that the Poet intended to specify the
Pelusiac
mouth of
Nile,
from which
Pharos
stands about a day's sail: but this is submitted to the Critics.
I can't tell whether one should venture to make use of the word
Nile
in the translation, it is doubtless an Anachronism; that name being unknown in the times of
Homer
and
Menelaus,
when the
Nile
was call'd
Aegyptus. Homer
in this very book
—
Yet on the other hand, this name of
Aegyptus
is so little known, that a common Reader would scarce distinguish the river from the country; and indeed universal custom has obtain'd for using the
Latin
name instead of the
Grecian,
in many other instances which are equally anachronisms. Witness all the names of the Gods and Goddesses throughout
Homer. Jupiter
for
Zeus, Juno
for
Erè, Neptune
for
Posidaon,
&c.
XXVII.
VERSE 499.
Bait the barb'd steel, and from the fishy flood.
]
Menelaus
says, hunger was so violent among his companions that they were compell'd to eat fish.
Plutarch
in his
Symposiacs
observes, that among the
Aegyptians, Syrians,
and
Greeks,
to abstain from fish was esteem'd a piece of sanctity; that tho' the
Greeks
were encamp'd upon the
Hellespont,
there is not the least intimation that they eat fish, or any sea-provision; and that the companions of
Ulysses,
in the 12th book of the
Odyssey,
never fought for fish till all their other provisions were consum'd, and that the same necessity compell'd them to eat the herds of the Sun which induced them to taste fish. No fish is ever offer'd in sacrifice: The
Pythagoreans
in particular command fish not to be eaten more strictly than any other animal: Fish afford no excuse at all for their destruction, they live as it were in another world, disturb not our air, consume not our fruits, or injure the waters; and therefore the
Pythagoreans,
who were unwilling to offer violence to any animals, fed very little, or not at all on fishes. I thought it necessary to insert this from
Plutarch,
because it is an observation that explains other passages in the sequel of the
Odyssey.
XXVIII.
VERSE 521.
Proteus
, a name tremendous o'er the main.
]
Eustathius
enumerates various opinions concerning
Proteus
; some understand
Proteus
allegorically to signify the first matter which undergoes all changes; others make him an emblem of true friendship, which ought not to be settled till it has been try'd in all shapes: others make
Proteus
a picture of a flatterer, who takes up all shapes, and suits himself to all forms, in compliance to the temper of the person whom he courts. The
Greeks
(observes
Diodorus
) imagin'd all these metamorphoses of
Proteus
to have been borrow'd from the practices of the
Aegyptian
Kings, who were accustom'd to wear the figures of Lions, Bulls or Dragons in their diadems, as emblems of Royalty, and sometimes that of Trees,
&c.
not so much for ornament as terror. Others took
Proteus
to be an enchanter; and
Eustathius
recounts several that were eminent in this art, as
Cratisthenes
the
Phliasian,
(which
Dacier
renders by mistake
Callisthenes
the
Physician
) who when he pleased could appear all on fire, and assume other appearances to the astonishment of the spectators: such also was
Xenophon, Scymnus
of
Tarentum, Philippides
of
Syracuse, Heraclitus
of
Mitylene,
and
Nymphodorus,
all practisers of magical arts; and
Eustathius
recites that the
Phocae
were made use of in their Incantations. Some write that
Proteus
was an
Aegyptian
tumbler, who could throw himself into variety of figures and postures; others, a Stage-player; others, that he was a great General, skill'd in all the arts and stratagems of war:
Dacier
looks upon him to have been an enchanter, or
. 'Tis certain from
Herodotus,
that there was in the times of
Menelaus
a King named
Proteus,
who reign'd in
Memphis
; that
Aegypt
was always remarkable for those who excell'd in magical Arts; thus
Jannes
and
Jambres
chang'd, at least in appearance, a rod into a Serpent, and water into blood: It is not therefore improbable but that
Menelaus
hearing of him while he was in
Aegypt
went to consult him as an Enchanter, which kind of men always pretended to fore-know events; This perhaps was the real foundation of the whole story concerning
Proteus
; the rest is the fiction and embellishment of the Poet, who ascribes to his
Proteus
whatever the credulity of men usually ascribes to Enchanters.
XXIX.
VERSE 569.
But when, his native shape resum'd,
&c.]
This is founded upon the practice of Enchanters, who never give their answers, till they have astonish'd the imagination of those who consult them with their juggling delusions.
Dacier.
XXX.
VERSE 613.
And shouting seize the God.
—]
Proteus
has, thro' the whole story, been describ'd as a God who knew all things; it may then be ask'd, how comes it that he did not foreknow the violence that was design'd against his own person? and is it not a contradiction, that he who knew
Menelaus
without information, should not know that he lay in ambush to seize him? The only answer that occurs to me is, that these enchanters never pretend to have an inherent fore-knowledge of events, but learn things by magical arts, and by recourse to the secrets of their profession; so that
Proteus
having no suspicion, had not consulted his art, and consequently might be surprized by
Menelaus:
So far is agreeable to the pretensions of such deluders: The Poet indeed has drawn him in colours stronger than life; but Poetry adds or detracts at pleasure, and is allow'd frequently to step out of the way, to bring a foreign ornament into the story.
XXXI.
VERSE 635.
To
Jove—
just Hecatombs
—&c.]
Homer
continually inculcates morality, and piety to the Gods; he gives in this place a great instance of the necessity of it.
Menelaus
cannot succeed in any of his actions, till he pays due honours to the Gods; the neglect of sacrifice is the occasion of all his calamity, and the performance of it opens a way to all his future prosperity.
XXXII.
VERSE 643.—
Nile, who from the secret source
Of
Jove
's high seat descends—
]
Homer,
it must be confess'd, gives the epithet
generally to all rivers; if he had used it here peculiarly, there might have been room to have imagin'd that he had been acquainted with the true cause of the inundations of this famous river: The word
implies it: For it is now generally agreed, that these prodigious inundations proceed from the vast rains and the melting of the snows on the mountains of the Moon in
Aethiopia,
about the autumnal Aequinox; when those rains begin to fall, the river by degrees increases, and as they abate, it decreases; the word
is therefore peculiarly proper when apply'd to the
Nile,
for tho' all rivers depend upon the waters that fall from the air, or
yet the
Nile
more especially, for when the rain ceases, the
Nile
consists only of seven empty channels.
XXXIII.
VERSE 682.
And to th' abyss the boaster bore.
]
It is in the original,
He dy'd having drunk the salt water.
This verse has been omitted in many editions of
Homer
; and the Ancients, says
Eustathius,
blame
Aristarchus
for not marking it as a verse that ought to be rejected; the simplicity of it consists in the sense, more than in the terms, and it is unworthy of
Proteus
to treat the death of
Ajax
with pleasantry, as he seems to do, by adding
having drunk salt water:
But why may not
Proteus
be suppos'd to be serious, and the terms
, to imply no more than that he was drown'd in waves of the ocean? I know only one reason that can give any colour to the objection,
viz.
it's being possibly become a vulgar expression, and used commonly in a ludicrous sense; then indeed it is to be avoided in Poetry; but it does not follow, because perhaps it might be used in this manner in the days of these Critics, that therefore it was so used in the days of
Homer.
What was poetical in the time of the Poet might be grown vulgar in the time of the Critics.
XXXIV.
VERSE 719.
So, whilst he feeds luxurious in the stall,
&c.]
Dacier
translates
, by
taureau
a bull; and misunderstands
Eustathius
who directly says, that in the 2d
Iliad
the Poet compares
Agamemnon
to a bull, in this place to an oxe,
. The one was undoubtedly design'd to describe the courage and majestic port of a warrior, the other to give us an image of a Prince falling in full peace and plenty,
.
XXXV.
VERSE 749.
Or in eternal shade if cold he lyes.
]
Proteus
in the beginning of his relation had said, that
one person was alive,
and remain'd enclosed by the ocean:
How then comes
Menelaus
here to say, Give me an account of that other person who is alive, or
dead?
Perhaps the sorrow which
Menelaus
conceived for his friend
Ulysses,
might make him fear the worst; and
Proteus
adding
enclos'd by the ocean
might give a suspicion that he was dead, the words being capable of ambiguity. However this be, it sets the friendship of
Menelaus
in a strong light: where friendship is sincere, a state of uncertainty is a state of fears, we dread even possibilities, and give them an imaginary certainty. Upon this, one of the finest compliments that a Poet ever made to a patron turns, that of
Horace
to
Mecaenas,
in the first of the
Epodes.
It may not perhaps be disagreeable to the Reader to observe, that
Virgil
has borrow'd this story of
Proteus
from
Homer,
and translated it almost literally.
Rapine
says, that
Homer
's description is more ingenious and fuller of invention, but
Virgil
's more judicious. I wish that Critic had given his reasons for his opinion. I believe in general, the plan of the
Iliad
and
Odyssey
is allow'd by the best of Critics to be more perfect than that of the
Aeneis. Homer
with respect to the unity of time, has the advantage very manifestly;
Rapine
confesses it, and
Aristotle
proposes him as an example to all Epic Authors. Where then is the superiority of judgment? Is it that there are more fabulous, I mean incredible, stories in
Homer
than
Virgil?
as that of the
Cyclops,
the ships of
Alcinous, &c. Virgil
has imitated most of these bold fables, and the story of the ships of
Alcinous
is not more incredible than the transformation of the ships of
Aeneas.
But this is too large a subject to be discuss'd in the compass of these Annotations. In particular passages I freely allow the preference to
Virgil,
as in the descent of
Aeneas
into hell,
&c.
but in this story of
Proteus,
I cannot see any superiority of judgment.
Virgil
is little more than a translator; to shew the particulars would be too tedious: I refer it to the Reader to compare the two Authors, and shall only instance in one passage.
, &c.
Cum clamore ruit magno, manicisque jacentem
Occupat: ille suae contra non immemor artis,
Omnia transformat sese in miracula rerum,
Ignemque, horribilemque feram, fluviumque liquentem.
&c.
Homer
has a manifest advantage in the occasion of the story: The loss of a few bees seems to be a cause too trivial for an undertaking so great as the surprize of a Deity; whereas the whole happiness of
Menelaus
depends upon this consultation of
Proteus:
This is a far more important cause, and consequently in this respect something more is due to
Homer,
than the sole honour of an inventor.
XXXVI.
VERSE 765.
Elysium
shall be thine; the blissful plains
Of utmost earth,
&c.—]
This is the only place in which the
Elysian
field is mention'd in
Homer.
The conjectures of the Ancients are very various about it:
Plato
in his
Phaed.
places it in
coelo stellato,
or the region of the Stars; but since
Homer
fixes it,
, or (as
Milton
expresses it) at the
earth's green end,
I will pass over the conjectures of others, especially since the
, by which others express
Elysium,
confines it to this world.
Strabo,
says
Eustathius,
places it not far from
Maurusia,
that lies near the Streights: It is suppos'd by
Bochart,
as
Dacier
observes, that the fable is of
Phaenician
extraction, that
Alizuth
in
Hebrew
signifies
joy
or
exultation,
which word the
Greeks
adapting to their way of pronunciation, call'd
Elysius.
If this be true, I should come into an opinion that has much prevail'd, that the
Greeks
had heard of
Paradise
from the
Hebrews
; and that the
Hebrews
describing
Paradise
as a place of
Alizuth,
or
joy,
gave occasion to all the fables of the
Grecian Elysium.
XXXVII.
VERSE 806.
Three sprightly coursers.
]
How comes it to pass that
Menelaus
proffers
three
horses to
Telemachus?
This was a compleat set among the Ancients, they used one Pole-horse and two leaders.
Eustathius.
XXXVIII.
VERSE 822.
That gift our barren rocks will render vain.
]
This passage where
Telemachus
refuses the horses has been much observ'd, and turn'd to a moral sense,
viz.
as a lesson to men to desire nothing but what is suitable to their conditions.
Horace
has introduced it into his Epistles.
Haud male Telemachus proles patientis Ulyssei;
Non est aptus equis Ithacae locus, ut neque planis
Porrectus spatiis, nec multae prodigus herbae:
Atride, magis apta tibi tua dona relinquam.
This is the reason why
Ulysses
(as
Eustathius
observes upon the 10th of the
Iliads
) leaves the horses of
Rhesus
to the disposal of
Diomedes
; so that the same spirit of Wisdom reign'd in
Telemachus,
that was so remarkable in
Ulysses.
This is the reason why
Menelaus
smil'd; it was not at the frankness or simplicity of
Telemachus,
but it was a smile of joy, to see the young Prince inherit his father's wisdom.
It is the remark of
Eustathius,
that
Telemachus
is far from exalting the nature of his country; he confesses it to be barren, and more barren than the neighbouring Islands; yet that natural and laudable affection which all worthy persons have for their country makes him prefer it to places of a more happy situation. This appears to me a replication to what
Menelaus
had before offer'd concerning the transplantation of
Ulysses
to
Sparta
; this is contain'd in
; and then the meaning is, 'Tis true
Ithaca
is a barren region, yet more desirable than this country of
Lacedaemon,
this
. It is the more probable from the offer of horses which
Menelaus
had then made, and is also another reason for the smile of
Menelaus.
Eustathius
remarks that
Menelaus,
tho' he has expressed the greatest friendship for
Ulysses,
yet makes no offer to restore the fortunes of his friend by any military assistance; tho' he had a most fair opportunity given him to repay the past kindness of
Ulysses
to his wife
Penelope,
and his son
Telemachus
; and how comes
Telemachus
not to ask it either of
Nestor
or
Menelaus?
He answers, that this depended upon the uncertainty they were yet under, concerning the life of
Ulysses.
But the truer reason in my opinion is, that the nature of Epic Poetry requires a contrary conduct: The Heroe of the Poem is to be the chief agent, and the re-establishment of his fortunes must be owing to his own wisdom and valour. I have enlarg'd upon this already, so that there is no occasion in this place to insist upon it.
XXXIX.
VERSE 896.
For ambush'd close,
&c.]
We have here another use which the Poet makes of the voyage of
Telemachus. Eustathius
remarks that these incidents not only diversify but enliven the Poem. But it may be ask'd why the Poet makes not use of so fair an opportunity to insert a gallant action of
Telemachus,
and draw him not as eluding, but defeating his adversaries? The answer is easy; That the Suitors sail'd compleatly arm'd, and
Telemachus
unprovided of any weapons: and therefore
Homer
consults credibility, and forbears to paint his young Heroe in the colours of a Knight in Romance, who upon all disadvantages engages and defeats his opposers. But then to what purpose is this ambush of the Suitors, and what part of the design of the Poem is carry'd on by it? The very chief aim of it; To shew the sufferings of
Ulysses:
He is unfortunate in all relations of life, as a King, as an husband, and here very eminently as a father; these sufferings are laid down in the proposition of the
Odyssey
as essential to the Poem, and consequently this ambush laid by the Suitors against the life of
Telemachus
is an essential ornament.
XL.
VERSE 906.
The speech of
Penelope.]
Longinus
in particular commends this speech as a true picture of a person that feels various emotions of soul, and is born by every gust of passion from sentiment to sentiment, with sudden and unexpected transitions. There is some obscurity in the
Greek,
this arises from the warmth with which she speaks, she has not leisure to explain her self fully, a circumstance natural to a person in anger.
Penelope
gives a very beautiful picture of
Ulysses:
"The best of Princes are allow'd to have their favourites, and give a greater share of affection than ordinary to particular persons. But
Ulysses
was a father to all his people alike, and loved them all as his children; a father, tho' he bears a more tender affection to one child than to another, yet shews them all an equal treatment; thus also a good King is not sway'd by inclination, but justice, towards all his subjects."
Dacier.
One circumstance is very remarkable, and gives us a full view of a person in anger; at the very sight of
Medon Penelope
flies out into passion, she gives him not time to speak one syllable, but speaks her self as if all the Suitors were present, and reproaches them in the person of
Medon,
tho'
Medon
is just to her and
Ulysses
; but anger is an undistinguishing passion. What she says of ingratitude, recalls to my memory what is to be found in
Laertius
:
Aristotle
being ask'd what thing upon earth soonest grew old? reply'd,
an Obligation.
;
respondit,
.
XLI.
VERSE 941.
Ride the wild waves
—]
Were this passage to be render'd literally, it would run thus;
climb the swift ships, which are horses to men on the seas. Eustathius
observes the allusion is very just, and that the only doubt is, whether it be brought in opportunely by
Penelope?
it may be doubted, if the mind could find leisure to introduce such allusions?
Dacier
answers, that
Penelope
speaks thus thro' indignation: The grief that she conceives at the hardiness of men, in finding out a way to pass the seas as well as land, furnished her with these figures very naturally, for figures are agreeable to passion.
XLII.
VERSE 998.
And Isles remote enlarge his old domain.
]
Dacier
offers a Criticism upon these last words of
Euryclea:
It cannot be imagin'd that these fertile fields can be spoken of
Ithaca,
Plutarch
's description of it is entirely contradictory to this:
"
Ithaca,
says he, is rough and mountainous, fit only to breed goats; upon cultivation it scarce yields any fruits, and these so worthless, as scarce to recompence the labour of gathering."
Homer
therefore by this expression intended the other dominions of
Ulysses,
such as
Cephalenia, &c.
But I question not that the whole dominions of
Ulysses
are included,
Ithaca
as well as
Cephalenia
; for tho'
Ithaca
was mountainous, yet the vallies were fruitful, according to the description of it in the 13th of the
Odyssey.
The rugged soil allows no level space
For flying chariots, or the rapid race;
Yet not ungrateful to the Peasant's pain,
Suffices fulness to the swelling grain:
The loaded trees their various fruits produce,
And clustring grapes afford a gen'rous juice,
&c.
As for her remark upon
, it is of no validity; the word stands in opposition to
, and implies no more than
here,
or at a distance in general.
XLIII.
VERSE 1015.
The Suitors heard, and deem'd the mirthful voice,
A signal of her hymenaeal choice.
]
It may be ask'd whence this conjecture of the Suitors arises?
Penelope
is describ'd as weeping grievously, and fainting away, and yet immediately the Suitors conclude she is preparing for the Nuptials.
Eustathius
answers, that undoubtedly the Suitors understood the Queen had purify'd her self with water, and supplicated the Goddess
Minerva,
tho' the Poet omits the relation of such little particularities. But whence is it that the Poet gives a greater share of wisdom to
Euryclea
than to
Penelope? Penelope
commands a servant to fly with the news of the absence of
Telemachus
to
Laertes,
which could not at all advantage
Telemachus,
and only grieve
Laertes: Euryclea
immediately diverts her from that vain intention, advises her to have recourse to heaven, and not add misery to the already miserable
Laertes:
This is Wisdom in
Euryclea.
But it must be confess'd that the other is Nature in
Penelope: Euryclea
is calm,
Penelope
in a passion: and
Homer
would have been a very bad painter of human Nature, if he had drawn
Penelope
thus heated with passion in the mild temper of
Euryclea
; grief and resentment give
Penelope
no time to deliberate, whereas
Euryclea
is less concern'd, and consequently capable of thinking with more tranquillity.
XLIV.
VERSE 1022.
With rebuke severe
Antinous
cry'd.
]
Antinous
speaks thus in return to what had been before said by one of the Suitors concerning
Telemachus, viz.
"the Queen little imagines that her son's death approaches;"
he fears lest
Penelope
should know their intentions, and hinder their measures by raising the subjects of
Ithaca
that still retain'd their fidelity.
Dacier.
XLV.
VERSE 1041.
So when the woodman's toyl,
&c.]
The Poet, to shew the majesty and high spirit of
Penelope,
compares her to a Lioness: He manages the allusion very artfully: he describes the Lioness not as exerting any dreadful act of violence, (for such a comparison is only proper to be apply'd to a Heroe) but inclosed by her enemies; which at once shews both her danger and nobleness of spirit under it: It is in the
Greek
, which may signify either, a circle of toils or nets, or a circle of enemies: The former is perhaps preferable, as corresponding best with the condition of
Penelope,
who was surrounded with the secret ambushes and snares of the Suitors.
Eustathius.
XLVI.
VERSE 1047.
Minerva
, life-like on imbody'd air,
Imprest the form,
&c.]
We have here an imaginary Being introduc'd by the Poet: The whole is manag'd with great judgment; It is short, because it has not a direct and immediate relation to the progress of the Poem, and because such imaginary entercourses have ever been looked upon as sudden in appearance, and as sudden in vanishing away. The use the Poet makes of it, is to relieve
Penelope
from the extremity of despair, that she may act her part in the future scenes with courage and constancy. We see it is
Minerva
who sends this phantom to
Penelope
to comfort her: Now this is an allegory to express that as soon as the violence of sorrow was over, the mind of
Penelope
return'd to some degree of tranquillity:
Minerva
is no more than the result of her own reflection and wisdom, which banish'd from her breast those melancholy apprehensions. The manner likewise of its introduction is not less judicious; the mind is apt to dwell upon those objects in sleep which make a deep impression when awake: This is the foundation of the Poet's fiction; it is no more than a dream which he here describes, but he cloaths it with a body, gives it a momentary existence, and by this method exalts a low circumstance into dignity and Poetry.
XLVII.
VERSE 1073.
And with consummate woe,
&c.]
In the original,
Penelope
says plainly, she is more concern'd for her son than her husband. I shall translate
Dacier
's observation upon this passage. We ought not to reproach
Penelope
for this seemingly shocking declaration, in preferring a son to an husband: Her sentiment is natural and just; she had all the reason in the world to believe that
Ulysses
was dead, so that all her hopes, all her affection was entirely placed upon
Telemachus:
His loss therefore must unavoidably touch her with the highest degree of sensibility; if he is lost, she can have recourse to no second comfort. But why may we not allow the reason which
Penelope
her self gives for this superiority of sorrow for
Telemachus?
"
Telemachus,
says she, is unexperienc'd in the world, and unable to contend with difficulties; whereas
Ulysses
knew how to extricate himself upon all emergencies."
This is a sufficient reason why she should fear more for
Telemachus
than
Ulysses:
Her affection might be greater for
Ulysses
than
Telemachus,
yet her fears might be stronger for the son than the husband,
Ulysses
being capable to surmount dangers by experience,
Telemachus
being new to all difficulties.
XLVIII.
VERSE 1089.
Enquire not of his doom,
&c.]
It may be ask'd what is the reason of this conduct, and why should the Phantom refuse to relate any thing concerning the condition of
Ulysses? Eustathius
answers, that if the Phantom had related the full truth of the story, the Poem had been at an end; the very constitution of it requires that
Ulysses
should arrive unknown to all, but chiefly to his wife, as will appear in the prosecution of the story: The question is very natural for an affectionate wife to make concerning an absent husband; but this being an improper place for the discovery, the Poet defers the solution of it, 'till the unravelling of the whole in the conclusion of the Poem.
The action of this book takes up the space of two nights and one day, so that from the opening of the Poem to the introduction of
Ulysses
are six days compleated.
But how long a time
Telemachus
afterwards stay'd with
Menelaus,
is a question which has employ'd some modern
French
Critics; one of which maintains, that he stay'd no longer than these two nights at
Lacedaemon:
But it is evident from the sequel of the
Odyssey,
that
Telemachus
arriv'd again at
Ithaca
two days after
Ulysses
; but
Ulysses
was twenty nine days in passing from
Ogygia
to
Ithaca,
and consequently during that whole time
Telemachus
must have been absent from
Ithaca.
The ground of that Critick's mistake was from the silence of
Homer
as to the exact time of his stay, which was of no importance, being distinguish'd by no action, and only in an Episodical part. The same thing led me into the like error in the 33d Note on the second book, where it is said that
Telemachus
return'd to
Ithaca
in less than twelve days.
The End of the First Volume.