POPE 
 THE ILIAD OF HOMER 
 
 BOOKS I. VI. XXII. XXIV. 
 
iHacmillan's Pocfect American anti lEnQltgi) 
 Classics. 
 
 A Series of English Texts, edited for use in Secondary 
 Schools, with Critical Introductions, Notes, etc. 
 
 l6mo. Levanteen. 25c. each. 
 
 Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley. 
 
 Browning's Shorter Poems. 
 
 Burke's Speech on Conciliation. 
 
 Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. 
 
 Carlyle's Essay on Burns. 
 
 Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner. 
 
 Cooper's The Last of the Mohicans. 
 
 De Quincey's Confessions of an Opium-Eater. 
 
 Dryden's Palamon and Arcite. 
 
 Eliot's Silas Marner. 
 
 Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield. 
 
 Irving's The Alhambra. 
 
 Longfellow's Evangeline. 
 
 Lowell's The Vision of Sir Launfal. 
 
 Macaulay's Essay on Addison. 
 
 Macaulay's Essay on Milton. 
 
 Macaulay's Essay on Warren Hastings. 
 
 Milton's Comus, Lycidas, and Other Poems. 
 
 Milton's Paradise Lost, Books I and II. 
 
 Pope's Homer's Iliad. 
 
 Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies. 
 
 Scott's Ivanhoe. 
 
 Scott's The Lady of the Lake. 
 
 Scott's Marmion. 
 
 Selections from the Southern Poets. 
 
 Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. 
 
 Shakespeare's Macbeth. 
 
 Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Shelley and Keats : Poems. 
 
 Tennyson's Idylls of the King. 
 
 Tennyson's The Princess. 
 
 OTHERS TO FOLLOW. 
 
ALEXANDER POPE 
 
POPE 
 THE ILIAD OF HOMER 
 
 I' 
 BOOKS I. VI. XXII. XXIV. 
 
 EDITED 
 
 WITH NOTES AND AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 BY 
 
 ALBERT H. SMYTH 
 
 PROFESSOR OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURa 
 
 IN THE CENTRAL HIGH SCHOOL OF PHILADELPHIA 
 
 MEMBER OF THE AMERICAN PHILOSOPHICAL SOCIETY 
 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. 
 1901 
 
 All rights reserved 
 

 » r ' * •• •8e« 
 
 > • • 
 
 • • '•• " C(?PVklGHT, 1899, 
 
 By the MACMILLAN COMPANY. 
 
 Set up and electrotyped January, 1899. Reprinted October, 
 1899; May, 1900; March, August, 1901. 
 
 J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berwick it Smith 
 Norwood Masa. U.S.A. 
 

 J I 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGK 
 
 Introduction vii 
 
 Alexander Pope ,..,,.,. xii 
 
 Pope's Versification xxiv 
 
 Pope's Place in Literature xxvii 
 
 The Homeric Poems xxxii 
 
 Suggestions to Teachers xlvii 
 
 The Text 1 
 
 Notes 129 
 
 V 
 
 iyi94:739 
 
— V 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 GoLDWiN Smith has called the translation of Homer 
 into verse " the Polar Expedition of literature, always 
 failing, yet still desperately renewed." The com- 
 parison is just. It is indeed a famous and difficult 
 voyage, undertaken by many brave and spirited adven- 
 turers, but with complete success by none. The most 
 accomplished scholars and poets have attempted to 
 convey to the English reader the resounding lines of 
 Homer, and the grace, vigor, and dignity of Homeric 
 life. Chapman, Hobbes, Pope, Cowper, Derby, Meri- 
 vale, Newman, Worsley, and Bryant have exhausted 
 their scholarship and skill in the task. But Homer 
 still defies modern reproduction. " His primeval sim- 
 plicity is a dew of the dawn which can never be dis- 
 tilled." 
 
 Matthew Arnold's acute and suggestive essay "On 
 Translating Homer" contains much practical advice, 
 both in negative and positive counsels. Mr. Arnold 
 believed that the translator should be penetrated by 
 
 vn 
 
Vlll INTRODUCTION 
 
 a sense of four qualities of his author — " that he is 
 eminently rapid; that he is eminently plain and 
 direct, both in the evolution of his thought and in 
 the expression of it, that is, both in his syntax and 
 in his words; that he is eminently plain and direct 
 in the substance of his thought, that is, in his matter 
 and ideas ; and, finally, that he is eminently noble." 
 For want of duly penetrating themselves with these 
 qualities of Homer the translators have failed to 
 render him ; Cowper fails in speed. Pope in plainness 
 and directness of style. Chapman in plainness and 
 directness of ideas, and Newman in " nobleness." 
 
 According to Mr. W. J. Courthope all English 
 translations of Homer may be said to be comprised 
 in three classes. The first is represented by Chapman 
 and is the method followed by Pope's predecessors; 
 its object is to reproduce the sense of the original. 
 The second is represented by Cowper and is the 
 method followed by every subsequent translator; its 
 aim is " not only to reproduce Homer's sense as 
 literally as possible, but also to reproduce his style 
 in an epic manner peculiar to the English language." 
 The third is the method of Pope. " Pope's purpose," 
 says Mr. Courthope, " is to master the general sense of 
 what he is about to render, and then to give this in 
 such rhetorical forms as his own style requires, omit- 
 ting and even adding thoughts at his pleasure." . 
 
INTRODUCTION IX 
 
 In every great poem there is a residuum which 
 cannot be transferred from one language to another. 
 In the case of Homer the vehicle of translation and 
 the very manner of modern thinking and feeling are 
 alien to the Homeric character. Chapman is faithful 
 to his original, but his loose, archaic, fanciful style 
 and long ballad-metre are out of keeping with the 
 epic elevation of the Iliad. Cowper adopted the Mil- 
 tonic blank verse as an English equivalent for the 
 Greek hexameters, and believed that in his transla- 
 tion he was adhering closely to his original, — "the 
 matter found in me," he said, '^whether the reader 
 like it or not, is found also in Homer ; and the matter 
 not found in me, how much soever the reader may 
 admire it, is found only in Mr. Pope." But Cowper 
 failed, as Mr. Arnold said, to render the bright 
 equable speed of Homer, and his translation is dull 
 and monotonous. 
 
 Pope was notoriously no Grecian. He wrote to 
 Parnell, who made him a present of the "Essay on 
 Homer" which is prefixed to his translation, "You 
 are a generous author, I a hackney scribbler ; you are 
 a Grecian, and bred at a University, I a poor English- 
 man of my own educating." But whatever his inac- 
 curacies, Pope succeeded in fascinating the world with 
 his "clarion couplets." He entered into the action 
 of the poem and told the story with grace and anima- 
 
X INTRODUCTION 
 
 tion. " A pretty poem, Mr. Pope, but it is not 
 Homer," said the famous Greek scholar Richard 
 Bentley. Nevertheless Pope had so caught the spirit 
 of adventure, he sympathized so genuinely with the 
 bravery of the heroes and entered with such delight 
 into their exhortations and invectives, that his trans- 
 lation leaped at once into popularity and has ever 
 since commanded the praise that belongs to a great 
 original poem. 
 
 The sonnet is famous in which Keats, who knew no 
 Greek though he was deeply imbued with the spirit 
 of the Greeks, describes his rapture on first looking 
 into Chapman's Homer : — 
 
 " Then felt I like some watcher of the skies 
 When a new planet swims into his ken, 
 
 Or like stout Cortes when with eagle eyes 
 He stared at the Pacific — and all bis men 
 
 Looked at each other with a wild surmise — 
 Silent — upon a peak in Darien." 
 
 Many more readers, the younger ones particularly, 
 remember the rapture of their first introduction to 
 Homer in the ringing lines of Pope. Emerson used 
 to say he would as soon think of swimming the 
 Charles E-iver every time he went to Boston as of 
 reading all his books in their original tongue. Pope's 
 translation is a great English classic, and it embalms 
 forever the supreme ideality of Homer which veins all 
 
INTRODUCTION XI 
 
 modern literature. Professor Jebb has a fine phrase 
 for those precious things of art, whether literature, or 
 sculpture, or architecture, that have been recovered 
 from the ancient civilization. He calls them '' salvage 
 from centuries of ruin." The Homeric poems saved 
 and transmitted across the centuries have been the 
 foundation of human culture and " the very fountain- 
 head of all pure poetic enjoyment, of all that is spon- 
 taneous, simple, native, and dignified in life." 
 
 Frederic Harrison in his impatience at the neglect 
 of Homer and the eternal works of genius wrote in 
 his admirable little volume on The Choice of Books, 
 ^' One knows — at least every schoolboy has known — 
 that a passage of Homer, rolling along in the hexam- 
 eter or trumpeted out by Pope, will give one a hot 
 glow of pleasure and raise a finer throb in the pulse ; 
 one knows that Homer is the easiest, most artless, 
 most diverting of all poets ; that the fiftieth reading 
 rouses the spirit even more than the first — and yet 
 we find ourselves (we are all alike) painfully pshaw- 
 ing over some new and uncut barley-sugar in rhyme, 
 which a man in the street asked us if we had read, or 
 it may be some learned lucubration about the site 
 of Troy by some one we chanced to meet at dinner. 
 It is an unwritten chapter in the history of the human 
 mind, how this literary prurience after new print un- 
 mans us for the enjoyment of the old songs chanted 
 
xii INTRODUCTION 
 
 forth in the sunrise of human imagination. To ask a 
 man or woman who spends half a lifetime in sucking 
 magazines and new poems to read a book of Homer 
 would be like asking a butcher's boy to whistle 
 ' Adelaida.' The noises and sights and talk, the whirl 
 and volatility of life around us, are too strong for us. 
 A society which is forever gossiping in a sort of per- 
 petual ^ drum ' loses the very faculty of caring for 
 anything but ' early copies ' and the last tale out. 
 Thus like the tares in the noble parable of the sower, 
 a perpetual chatter about books chokes the seed which 
 is sown in the greatest books of the world." (Harri- 
 son, Choice of Books, p. 29.) 
 
 ALEXANDER POPE 
 
 An interesting allegorical picture painted by Hogarth 
 for the Elephant, a public house in Fenchurch Street, 
 London, is now preserved in Sudeley Castle. It rep- 
 resents the blindfolded goddess of fortune standing 
 on a globe elevated above the earth, and holding in 
 each hand an inverted bag, from which favors and 
 evils are descending. Beneath is the fast-flowing 
 stream of life, and upon the bridge stands the artist, 
 while Richardson, the novelist, hands him a bag of 
 gold. Advancing toward the place where the benig- 
 nant showers of fortune are descending, Alexander 
 
ALEXANDER POPE xiil 
 
 Pope appears in a car drawn by a swan with seven 
 necks, emblematical of the trivlum and quadrivium — 
 the seven liberal arts and sciences. Following the 
 car is a motley crew of critics, with faces distorted 
 with passion, armed with sticks and spears, typical of 
 the lances of calumny, with which they are about to 
 assail the poet. Familiar faces are visible in the 
 crowd ; Dennis, Theobald, Curl, and Mist are there, 
 and Gibber the laureate, and Henley the orator. 
 
 The poet who is thus between kind fortune and evil 
 tongues is the translator of the Iliad, and the author 
 of the Dunciad. By his translation he acquired a 
 European reputation, a position of ease and indepen- 
 dence, and that familiarity with the leading repre- 
 sentatives of the English aristocracy which was one 
 of the chief goals of his ambition. 
 
 But his way of life was beset with quarrels. He 
 was thoroughly versed in the art of making enemies, 
 and seemed at times, so waspish was his tongue, so 
 vitriolic his humor, to be "instinct with life malig- 
 nant." His vanity, his untruthfulness, his irritability, 
 and his arrogance may, with reason and with charity, 
 be exj)lained as proceeding from his physical infirmi- 
 ties. His life, he said, was "one long disease." He 
 was short of stature — a high chair necessary to bring 
 him to the level of an ordinary dining-table ; his legs 
 were thin and wrapped in many folds of linen, his 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 body so crooked that he was nicknamed an interroga- 
 tion point, and he was tormented with constant head- 
 aches. Few writers are more familiar to us through 
 caricature and description. The dress and the habits 
 of Dr. Johnson are not better known than Pope's 
 paddings and stays, his wadded canvas jackets, and 
 his twice doubled hose. His countenance drawn and 
 pinched, his delicate features, his large blue expressive 
 eyes, we know from Roubiliac's and Rysbrach's busts 
 of him, and the portraits by Kneller, Jervas, Hoare, 
 and Richardson. 
 
 Pope was born in the city of London of an obscure 
 Roman Catholic family, in the year of the glorious 
 Revolution of 1688 (May 21). His father conducted 
 the wholesale business of a linen merchant in Lom- 
 bard Street, a street which to the English ear, as 
 De Quincey says, possessed a degree of historical im- 
 portance: "first, as the residence of those Lombards, 
 or Milanese, who affiliated our infant commerce to the 
 matron splendors of the Adriatic and the Mediterra- 
 nean; next, as the central resort of those jewellers, or 
 goldsmiths, as they were styled, who performed all the 
 functions of modern bankers from the period of the 
 Parliamentary War to the rise of the Bank of England." 
 
 In 1700 the successful tradesman retired from busi- 
 ness, to Binfield, in Windsor Forest, where the family 
 lived upon an estate of twenty acres, and where a part 
 
ALEXANDER POPE X^ 
 
 of the house and an ancient row of Scottish firs still 
 remain as in Pope's childhood. Very little is recorded 
 of his early years. When eight years old he began to 
 study Latin and Greek under the direction of a priest ; 
 for a short time he studied at a Roman Catholic school 
 at Twyford, near Winchester, and afterwards under 
 Thomas Deane at Marylebone. 
 
 While his education was desultory and superficial, 
 he read widely and constantly, " like a boy gathering 
 flowers " ; indeed it was said that he did nothing else 
 but write and read. His first acquaintance with 
 Homer came in his twelfth year, through Ogilby's 
 translation; he wrote an epic of Alexander between 
 his thirteenth and fifteenth years ; and while still a 
 child came up to London from Windsor Forest and 
 gazed with reverence and enthusiasm upon the face of 
 old John Dryden upon what must have been one of 
 his last appearances at Will's Coffee-house. 
 
 Among Pope's early acquaintances and patrons were 
 Sir William Trumbull, with whom he rode out every 
 day ; William Walsh, who recommended Pope to make 
 correctness his study and aim; and Wycherly, forty- 
 eight years his senior, from whom he learned much of 
 fashion and of wit. The Catholic boy, without name 
 or rank or fortune, was honored and caressed because 
 of his single-hearted devotion to literature. 
 
 Sir William Trumbull encouraged him to write the 
 
XVI inTRODUCTION 
 
 "Pastorals," which Jacob Tonson, the publisher, issued 
 in 1709 in a volume of " Miscellany," which began 
 with the pastorals of Ambrose Philips and ended 
 with those of Pope. According to his own account 
 Pope was but sixteen years old when these poems 
 were written, but all his assertions with regard to 
 himself are to be received with caution, as it is well 
 known " that he systematically antedated his composi- 
 tions in order to obtain credit for precocity." With 
 his introduction to literary and aristocratic society 
 Pope affected the tone of Will's Coffee-house. The 
 chief literary influences of the time proceeded from the 
 coffee-houses; the politicians met at the St. James's, 
 the critics at Will's, and the scholars at the Grecian. 
 The clubs, a little later, took the place of the coffee- 
 houses ; and with the development of party spirit arose 
 a demand for facile and fertile literary brains to aid 
 the party leaders. Addison, who had been one of the 
 society at Will's, gathered about him a party of Whig 
 pamphleteers and poets who held their meetings at 
 Button's, and who were called "the little senate." 
 Pope became acquainted with Addison and his circle, 
 and with Swift, after the publication of the " Essay 
 upon Criticism" (1711), in which he presented in verse 
 his reflections upon the principles of his art. Addison 
 praised the work in the Spectator, December 20, 1711, 
 but regretted " some strokes of personality " in the 
 
ALEXANJiEU POPE XVli 
 
 poem. Pope immediately wrote to Steele acknow- 
 ledging the praise and promising to amend the objec- 
 tionable matter, and Steele in turn introduced Pope 
 to Addison. His next poem, " Windsor Forest," mod- 
 elled upon "Cooper's Hill," appeared in 1713. It was 
 animated by a Tory spirit, anticipated the Peace of 
 Utrecht, and brought Pope the friendship of Swift. 
 He soon became a member of the Scriblerus Club, and 
 was upon intimate terms with Gay, Parnell, Arbuthnot, 
 Congreve, Atterbury, and Oxford. 
 
 The " Rape of the Lock " — " the most exquisite 
 monument of playful fancy that universal literature 
 offers " — was published in 1714, though part of it 
 had appeared two years before. The " amorous cause " 
 of the " dire offence " depicted in the poem was an 
 incident that concerned two prominent members of 
 Roman Catholic society. Lord Petre, a young man 
 of twenty, ha4 clipped a lock of hair from the head 
 of Arabella Fermor, a celebrated beauty of the day, 
 and John Caryll — a person of some authority with 
 the Roman Catholic party — suggested to Pope to 
 celebrate the petty quarrel in a poem, and so to recon- 
 cile the pair. The mock-heroic poem instantly won 
 popular favor, and three thousand copies of it were 
 sold in four days. It was Sir William Trumbull who 
 first suggested to Pope the translation of the Iliad, 
 April 9, 1708. But Pope knew no Greek and had 
 
Xvill iNTttODXiCTiON 
 
 scarcely the courage for the task. In the autumn of 
 1713, however, he announced his intention of trans- 
 lating Homer. Lord Lansdowne and Joseph Addison 
 expressed their gratification, and wrote to him encour- 
 agingly. In November (1713) Bishop Kennet, describ- 
 ing in his diary an occasion when Dean Swift led the 
 conversation, says : " Then he instructed a young 
 nobleman that the best poet in England was Mr. Pope 
 (a Papist), who had begun a translation of Homer 
 into English verse, for which he must have them all 
 subscribe ; for, says he, the author shall not begin to 
 print till I have a thousand guineas for him." 
 
 A thousand guineas was a great sum for any literary 
 enterprise to yield, but as the sequel proved Swift 
 underestimated the extraordinary success of this par- 
 ticular undertaking. The work was designed on a 
 magnificent scale ; it was to be printed in six sumptu- 
 ous volumes at a guinea a volume. Pope was to have 
 all the subscriptions, and a copyright from the pub- 
 lisher, Bernard Lintot, of £200 for each volume. The 
 number of subscribers to the Iliad was 574, and the 
 number of copies subscribed for was 654. Conse- 
 quently by the subscription Pope obtained six times 
 654 guineas, or slightly more than £4000, which, 
 with the copyright (£1200 for the work) swelled 
 Pope's profits upon the transaction to £5300. The 
 translation of the Odyssey^ likewise published by 
 
■ALEXANDER POPE xix 
 
 gabscription, was only a trifle less remunerative. 
 The colossal labors of tlie venture were lightened 
 by a partnership in toil; Pope "let off," as De 
 Quincey says, to sub-contractors several portions of 
 the undertaking, like modern contractors for a loan. 
 Broome and Fenton, the collaborators, between them 
 translated twelve books, and Pope undertook the other 
 twelve. Fenton received £300, and Broome £500. By 
 the subscription to the Odyssey Pope received £3000 
 (574 copies subscribed for at a guinea for each of the 
 five quarto volumes), and for the copyright £600 addi- 
 tional from Lintot, the publisher. 
 
 '•The jingling of the guinea" has a significance in 
 this instance which renders the commercial aspect of 
 the publication peculiarly interesting. 
 
 In the first place, it was " unquestionably the greatest 
 literary labor, as to profit, ever executed, not except- 
 ing the most lucrative of Sir Walter Scott's, if due 
 allowance be made for the altered value of money" 
 (De Quincey). And in the second place, it secured 
 ease and independence to Pope for the rest of his life. 
 He bought an annuity of some £500, and a long lease 
 of an estate of five acres upon the Thames, at Twick- 
 enham, where he lived until his death, cultivating his 
 gardens and lampooning his adversaries. 
 
 Pope was at first oppressed with the magnitude of 
 his task. He said to Spence : '' In the beginning of 
 
XX INTB OB UCTION 
 
 my translating the Iliad I wished anybody would 
 hang me a hundred times. It sat so heavily on my 
 mind at first that I often used to dream of it, and do 
 sometimes still." 
 
 To Jervas, he wrote, when in full career, July 28, 
 1714 : " What can you expect from a man who has 
 not talked these five days ? Who is withdrawing his 
 thoughts as far as he can, from all the present world, 
 its customs and its manners, to be fully possessed and 
 absorbed in the past. When people talk of going to 
 church, I think of sacrifices and libations ; when I see 
 the parson, I address him as Chryses, priest of Apollo ; 
 and instead of the Lord's Prayer, I begin : — 
 
 ' God of the silver bow,' etc. 
 
 While you in the world are concerned about the Prot- 
 estant succession, I consider only how Menelaus may 
 recover Helen, and the Trojan war be put to a speedy 
 conclusion." 
 
 Pope was not a scholar ; his knowledge of languages, 
 ancient and modern, was maimed and imperfect. Vol- 
 taire said he could hardly read French, and spoke not 
 one syllable of the language. De Quincey avowed his 
 belief in Pope's thorough ignorance of Greek when he 
 commenced his translation. He mastered the sense of 
 the original from the English versions of his prede- 
 cessors, Chapman, Hobbes, and Ogilby, and from the 
 
ALEXANDER POPE XX^ 
 
 French translations of La Vallerie and Dacier, and the 
 Latin version of Eobaniis Hessius. When it became 
 necessary to consult the commentators and critics who, 
 said Pope, "lie entrenched in the ditches, and are 
 secure only in the dirt they have heaped about them 
 with great pains in the collecting it,'' lie called upon 
 Parnell for assistance who wrote for the translation 
 an "essay upon Homer." The notes of Eustathius. 
 the Archbishop of Thessalonica, were translated for 
 him by Broome, and Jortin, a young Cambridge 
 scholar. 
 
 The social success of the work was also remarkable. 
 Pope was invited to the country houses of Lord Har- 
 court, Lord Bathurst, and Lord Digby, and in April, 
 1716, he moved to Chiswick "under the wing of my 
 Lord Burlington " in order to be near the aristocratic 
 society of the Thames. John Gay's poem " ]Mr. Pope's 
 Welcome from Greece " names pleasantly the distin- 
 guished people who congratulated Pope upon the 
 completion of his translation. He entertained at 
 Twickenham in his thrifty way, " watching his butler 
 very sharply, and by reason of his infirmities, was 
 very measured in his wine-drinking. Swift, who used 
 to come and pass days with him, may have made the 
 glasses jingle: and there were other worthy friends 
 who, when they came for a dinner, kept the poet in a 
 tremor of unrest. The Prince of Wales, after the 
 
Xxii INTRODUCTION 
 
 Georges of Hanover had come in, used sometimes to 
 honor the poet with a visit ; and the rich and power- 
 ful Bolingbroke — what time he lived at Battersea — 
 used to come up in his barge, landing at tlie garden 
 entrance — as most great visitors did — and discuss 
 with him those faiths, dogmas, truisms, and splendid 
 generalities which afterward took form in the 'famous 
 Essay on Man J' ^ 
 
 The rest of Pope's life is little else than a record of 
 "disease, publication, and quarrels." His satirical 
 powers found their fullest exercise in the Dunciad 
 (1728-9), in which he bestowed all his venom upon his 
 libellers, reviewers, and rivals. The professed action 
 of the poem is " the restoration of the reign of Chaos 
 and Night by the ministry of Dulness, in the removal 
 of her imperial seat from the City to the Polite 
 World." The Hero of the Poem — the arch-ruler of 
 this realm of Dulness — is Theobald, — " poor, pid- 
 dling Tibbald," — to whose poverty and dulness an 
 entire book of the Dunciad is devoted, and who is 
 exalted to this bad eminence solely because he had 
 ventured in his Shakespeare Restored to point out 
 
 1 Quoted from D. G. Mitchell, English Lands, Letters, and 
 Kings, Vol. III., 1895. A work of rare attractiveness, in which the 
 great figures of literature are made to live again by virtue of the 
 author's acute sympathy, intimnte knowledge, and faultless Eng- 
 lish. 
 
ALEXANDER POPE XXIU 
 
 the blunders that Pope had perpetrated in his Edition 
 of Shakespeare (1725). This publication marks the 
 culmination of his career; to use De Quincey's com- 
 parison : " like a hornet, who is said to leave his sting 
 in the wound, and afterwards to languish away. Pope 
 felt so greatly exhausted by the efforts connected with 
 the Dunciad that he prepared his friends to expect 
 for the future only an indolent companion and a 
 hermit." Time, too, was dissolving the circle of 
 his friends. Atterbury, the attainted and banished 
 Bishop, died in 1732 ; Gay died suddenly at the close 
 of the same year, and the fatal blight of madness was 
 possessing Dean Swift, who from the beginning of 
 their acquaintance maintained unbroken a strange 
 affectionate friendship for the sensitive crippled poet. 
 His mother, whom he had tenderly loved and watched 
 over, and who in her senile dotage recognized no face 
 but that of her son, died in 1733 at a great age, at 
 Twickenham. His writings now were half-moral, half- 
 satirical ; and his philosophy and poetry in TJie Epistle 
 to Lord Burlington, Essay on Man, Epistle to Arhuthnot, 
 etc., were blended in a style whose burnished lustre is 
 unequalled in literature. 
 
 His last effort was the fourth book of the Dunciad 
 (1742), the conclusion of which is one of the greatest 
 accomplishments of his life. The " long disease " was 
 now drawing to an endj he became weak and, at 
 
XXIV INTRODUCTION' 
 
 times, delirious; Lord Boliugbroke and a few stanch 
 friends sustained liim. He died May 30, 1744. 
 
 POPE'S VERSIFICATION 
 
 The rhymed couplet — commonly called the classical 
 couplet — was the prevalent poetic measure of the age 
 of Dry den and the age of Pope. That measure is 
 generally recognized as a reform of the license and ex- 
 travagance that marked the unregulated flow of verse 
 in the late Elizabethan days. It belonged as natu- 
 rally to the classical or " correct " manner in poetry, 
 as did the preceding metres to the romantic man- 
 ner. The varied stanza metres of the Elizabethans 
 declined at length into the disorderly blank verse of 
 the dramatists. The literary style retained its vehe- 
 mence when the emotions that had created it had 
 subsided. The genuine utterance of Marlowe and 
 Shakespeare became the inane rant of such writers as 
 Cyril Tourneur. Desperately striving to maintain 
 the traditions of the great age, the post-Elizabethan 
 poets strained their plots and their language to supply 
 the place of failing originality. They stimulated, 
 with impossible horrors and violent diction, the jaded 
 public taste until stimulants ceased to compel even 
 a momentary spasm of attention. The change that 
 then took place by which poetry lost its violenccj and 
 
P OPE ' S VERSIFICA TION XXV 
 
 a new and different order began in tlie technic of 
 verse, has been detined as the formal change from en- 
 jambed lines to the " classical conplet." Vers eiijamhe, 
 or " overflow " verse, as it has been proposed to call 
 that style of versification in which the thought flows 
 loosely on through the verses to its natural close, is 
 the distinctive note of all romantic poetry. 
 
 The "classical couplet" restrains the lawlessness 
 and violence of intemperate verse by confining the 
 sense within the narrow boundaries of the distich. 
 The history of the change Avould involve an examina- 
 tion of the literary chronology of the seventeenth cen- 
 tury. It must be sufficient here to refer the student 
 to Edmund Waller and to George Sandys for the 
 earliest correct use of the couplet and to recommend 
 a comparison of Dryden's verse, in which the evjamhe- 
 ment is often to be found, with the polished, perfected 
 couplets of Pope, unmixed with triplets, or Alexan- 
 drines, or vers eiijamhe. "Pope," says Professor 
 Saintsbury, " sacrifices every attraction of form to the 
 couplet — light, bright, glittering, varied in a manner 
 almost impossible to account for, tipped ever with the 
 neatest, smartest, sharpest rhyme, and volleying on 
 the dazzled, though at times at any rate satiated, 
 reader a sort of salvo of feux-cV artifice, skipping, 
 crackling, scattering color and sound all round and 
 about him. If we take a paragraph of Milton's with 
 
XXVI INTRODUCTION 
 
 one of Pope's, and compare the apparent variety of 
 the constituent stones of the one building with the 
 apparent monotony of those of the other, the differ- 
 ence may be at first quite bewildering. One of Dry- 
 den's, between the two, will partly, though not 
 entirely, solve the difficulty by showing how the law 
 of the prose paragraph, that of meaning, is brought "^ 
 to supply the place of that of the pure poetic para- 
 graph, the composition of sound and music." 
 
 The reader of Pope will be struck by the conven- 
 tional phraseology, and the evident artifice in the 
 choice of words. He is neither wayward in his verse, 
 nor unexpected in his phrase. His poetry is strictly 
 artificial, rhetorical, mundane. It exhibits the same 
 cold, glittering monotony, "like frosting round a 
 cake," says Mr. Lowell. 
 
 Neither poetry nor prose could long be confined 
 within the narrow limits appointed by the masters 
 of the classical vogue. The artificialities ceased, and 
 romanticism began again with Gray and Cowper, and 
 the eyes of poetry were again opened to the great 
 world, and men began to look curiously at the flower 
 they plucked, and hands were reached into the roman- 
 tic past, and Percy collected his Reliques of Ancient 
 English Poetry, and prepared the way for Chatterton, 
 and for the Lyrical Ballads, and for greater things 
 beyond. 
 
POPE'S PLACE IN LITERATURE xxvil 
 
 POPE'S PLACE IN LITERATURE 
 
 (From the Life of Alexander Pope, "by W. J. Courthope, 
 pp. 353-357.) 
 
 The poetry of Pope occupies a central position 
 between two fluctuating movements of English taste. 
 The classical school of the eighteenth century, of 
 which he was the pioneer, was a protest against what 
 has been rightly called the metaphysical school of the 
 seventeenth century, just as the romantic school, 
 which arose in the early part of the present century, 
 was a reacting movement in art against the critical 
 principles of the classical school. We ought not to 
 regard the differing characteristics of these poetical 
 groups as so many isolated phsenomena : each is bound 
 to the other by a historical connection, the full sig- 
 nificance of which must be determined by reference to 
 the course of English poetry as a whole. In other 
 words, to appreciate the true meaning of the conflicts 
 respecting the principles of poetry that have divided, 
 and still divide, rival schools of criticism in this 
 country, it is necessary to investigate the origin of 
 the idea of Nature, which each party holds to be the 
 foundation of Art. . . . 
 
 Greek poetry, both in its practice and its theory, 
 was based on the direct imitation of nature; that is 
 to say, its subject-matter was, foi the most part, de- 
 
XXVlll INTRODUCTION 
 
 rived from its own mythology, and was presented in 
 forms which, to a great extent, arose out of the popu- 
 lar and religious institutions underlying all Greek 
 social life. From these purely natural forms Aris- 
 totle reasoned to general principles which, according 
 to him, were the laws of the Art of Poetry. The 
 Koman poets and critics, adopting Greek models, car- 
 ried them into all countries in which Latin culture 
 predominated, so that before the fall of the Roman 
 empire what m.ay be called a common sense of Nature, 
 and common rules of rhetoric, prevailed wherever the 
 art of poetry was practised in Europe. 
 
 The irruption of the barbarians obliterated like a 
 deluge the landmarks of ancient criticism ; the Latin 
 language itself was only saved from destruction in the 
 ark of the Christian Church. All the reasoning of 
 Aristotle, Cicero, and Quintilian seemed, like the 
 Roman empire itself, to have completely perished: 
 for whole centuries the voice of poetry was silent in 
 the Western World. In course of time new languages 
 began to spring out of the decomposition of Latin, 
 and, as was natural, their infancy was cradled in new 
 forms of the poetic art. But the idea of Nature re- 
 flected in these forms was no longer one derived from 
 direct imitation. A fresh conception of Man's rela- 
 tion to God, of the life beyond the grave, and, conse- 
 quently, of the material universe, had come into being 
 
pope's place in literature xxix 
 
 with the Christian Religion. And not only had 
 Christianity supervened, but upon Christianity had 
 been grafted Theology, and on Theology the Scholastic 
 Philosophy. When we consider that the reappear- 
 ance of Poetry is almost contemporaneous with the 
 appearance of the Schoolmen, we can hardly doubt 
 that much of the intellectual subtlety distinguishing 
 the art of the Provenqals was derived from the same 
 atmosphere which inspired the five great doctors of the 
 Mediaeval Church. Other influences, no doubt, con- 
 tributed largely to the creation of tlie new Idea of 
 Nature. The prevalence of feudal institutions, the 
 enthusiasm of the Crusades, the neighborhood of 
 Oriental thought, represented by the Arabs in Spain, 
 and by the philosophy of Averroes and Avicenna in- 
 corporated in Christian theology; all this, operating 
 on minds learning to express themselves in novel forms 
 of language, and unfettered by the critical principles 
 of the ancient world, encouraged a new and vigorous 
 growth of poetical conception. Hence the multitude 
 of forms in which the poets of that early age manipu- 
 lated what to us appears an extraordinary triviality 
 of matter. Sirvente, Sonnet, Ballad, Virelay, Ten- 
 son, with all their subtle and scientific combinations 
 of harmony, convey to us ideas of Nature far more 
 shadowy than do the odes of Horace; nevertheless it 
 is evident that for the audiences of the Middle Ages 
 
XXX INTRODUCTION 
 
 they possessed not only music, but warmth and 
 meaning. 
 
 In time the mediaeval idea of Nature ceased to com- 
 mend itself to the general sense of Europe. The 
 wars -between Christian and Paynim ceased ; the wide- 
 spread system of Feudalism waned before the advance 
 of centralizing Monarchy; the Reformation divided 
 the Western World into two opposing camps; and, 
 with the Balance of Power that began to emerge from 
 the chaos, appeared the first rudiments of Inter- 
 national Law. Yet so vigorous and trenchant were 
 the forms of Mediaeval Art, that they long survived 
 the dissolution of the social conditions out of which 
 they originally sprang. Dryden has well said that 
 all poets have their family descents. And if any- 
 thing is plain, it is that the poets of the seventeenth 
 century, in the various countries of Europe, are di- 
 rectly and lineally descended from medioeval masters 
 of the art. In Italy the long-lived family of the 
 Petrarchists echoed faithfully, if monotonously, the 
 music of their first ancestor; in Spain Cultorists and 
 Conceptualists aimed at the same subtleties of thought 
 and language that may be found in the original man- 
 ner of the Troubadours; Voiture in Prance amused 
 the society of the Hotel Pambouillet with rondeau, 
 ballad, and sonnet, the prototypes of which had 
 helped to dispel the ennui of the feudal castle in the 
 
POPE'S PLACE IX LITERATURE xxxi 
 
 intervals of the Crusades; Saccharissas and Castaras 
 in England emulated the fame of Beatrice and Laura; 
 Quarles meditated his "Emblems," and Phineas 
 Eletcher his "Purple Island," just as if the allegori- 
 cal interpretation of Nature still held the field, and 
 Bacon had not succeeded to the throne of St. Thomas 
 Aquinas. 
 
 Meantime, however, the foundations of a new criti- 
 cal tradition were being silently laid. The old clas- 
 sical principle of the direct imitation of Xatiire, 
 rising from its ashes, was everywhere reasserting its 
 authority. We may fairly boast that the honor of 
 having first revived the practice of this great princi- 
 ple belongs to an Englishman. Dante and Petrarch 
 indeed show the influence of classical forms in their 
 language, but the cast of their thought is purely medi- 
 aeval : the earliest poem which embodies the genuine 
 classical spirit is Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. After- 
 wards Ariosto applied the imitative principle, with 
 the perfection of taste, in the Orlando Furioso and 
 Cervantes in Don Quixote: it found among the 
 Erench a dramatic exponent in Moliere and a poetical 
 critic in Boileau. In this country Shakespeare made 
 his Hamlet commend the principle to the players; 
 and Dryden gave it a new application in the historical 
 portrait-painting of his "Absalom and Achitophel." 
 But the English poet who first consciously recognized 
 
XXxii INTRODUCTION 
 
 the value of the truth as a canon of criticism, and up- 
 held it by a regular system of reasoning, was undoubt- 
 edly Pope. 
 
 THE HOMERIC POEMS 
 
 A national epic is found in the early literature of 
 every people tracing their life and being back to a 
 primitive civilization. The Nihelungen Lied, in Ger- 
 man; the Kalevala in Finnish; the Mahabharata and 
 Ramayana in Sanskrit, and the Beowulf in Old Eng- 
 lish are such epics. They embody the mythological 
 and legendary ideas of the people among whom they 
 originate; in sense and in metre they are indigenous. 
 The Homeric poems — the Iliad and the Odyssey — 
 are the greatest epics of the world, and they reflect 
 tlie earliest features of Aryan civilization. Through 
 all the ages these poems have retained their high 
 place in the estimation of the world and have been 
 the steadfast foundation of all culture. The secret 
 of their hold upon humanity through their riches, 
 beauty, and power has been well expressed in the 
 ardent admiration of Henry Nelson Coleridge : — 
 
 "Greek — the shrine of the genius of the Old 
 World; as universal as our race, as individual as 
 ourselves; of infinite flexibility, of indefatigable 
 strength, with the complication and the distinctness 
 of Nature herself; to which nothing was vulgar, from 
 
THE HOMERIC POEMS XXXlli 
 
 ■whicli nothing was excluded; speaking to the ear like 
 Italian, speaking to the mind like English; with 
 words like pictures, with words like the gossamer 
 film of the summer; at once the variety and pictu- 
 resqueness of Homer, the gloom and the intensity of 
 ^schylus; not compressed to the closest by Thu- 
 cydides, not fathomed to the bottom by Plato, not 
 sounding with all its thunders, nor lit up with all 
 its ardors even under the Promethean touch of 
 Demosthenes." 
 
 The Homeric world as revealed in these ancient 
 documents of Hellenic life has been well described by 
 Professor Jebb in his "Introduction to Homer," and 
 from his account the following brief remarks are 
 drawn. 
 
 The earth, as it is conceived in Homer, is a large 
 flat disc surrounded by the great river Oceanus ; of 
 the countries of the earth Homer knows only those 
 which are neighbor to the ^gean Sea — Greece and 
 Northwestern Asia Minor. The Greeks are called 
 Achaeans, Argives, and Danai. "Achaean Argos" 
 denotes the whole, or a great part, of the Pelopon- 
 nesus, and " Pelasgian Argos " indicates Thessaly. 
 Peloponnesus and Thessaly are names which do not 
 occur in Homer. Hellas denotes merely a district in 
 the region afterwards called Thessaly. The topog- 
 raphy of the Troad is more clearly marked. The 
 
xxxiv INTUODUCTION 
 
 country afterwards called Lydia is "Mseonia," iden- 
 tified by the mention of Mount Tmolus. The islands 
 of Crete and Rhodes, Tenedos, Imbros, Samothrace, 
 Lesbos, and Lemnos are named. "To the north 
 there is a dim rumor of nomads who roam the plains 
 beyond the Thracian hills, living on the milk of their 
 mares; yet the name 'Sythian ' is not found. To the 
 south there is a rumor of 'swart faces' (^^thiopes), 
 'remotest of men'; and of pigmies, who dwell hard 
 by the banks of the river Ocean" (Jebb). Egypt is 
 noticed only in a chance reference to Thebes. "Phoe- 
 nician " occurs only once, and Tyre is not named at all. 
 Homer's government is a monarchy; the king {Basi- 
 leus) rules by divine right; he is Zeus- nurtured, that 
 is, "upheld and enlightened by Zeus." The king is 
 leader in war, supreme judge, president of the coun- 
 cil of elders and of the popular assembly. A demesne 
 is assigned to him from the public land, and he dis- 
 charges functions of public hospitality. The rights 
 of the people rest upon judicial precedents which are 
 upheld by the king. In Homer there is no word for 
 law. The king convenes a council consisting of a 
 small number of elders, who determine upon the busi- 
 ness of state. In the Iliad the council is composed 
 of a few prominent chiefs, or kings, who hold the 
 same relations to Agamemnon as local elders to a 
 local king. 
 
THE HOMERIC POEMS XXXV 
 
 The gods are near to men and are easily invoked by 
 prayer or placated by sacrifice. "The ties of the 
 family are sacred in every relation." The Iliad has 
 several pictures of pure and tender conjugal affection. 
 Slavery was the doom of prisoners of war. Slaves 
 were employed in the house or on the land, but there 
 were also free hired laborers. 
 
 Man in Homer wears a shirt, or tunic (chiton), and 
 a mantle (chlaina) ; woman wears a robe (peplus) 
 reaching to her feet, and girdled at the waist by a 
 zone. " On her head she sometimes wears a high, stiff 
 coif, over the middle of which passes a many-colored 
 twisted band, while a golden fillet glitters at the front. 
 Either from the coif, or directly from the crown of 
 the head, a veil falls over shoulders and back." 
 
 The chief articles of Homeric armor are the shield, 
 the greaves, the belt, the helmet, the spear, and the 
 sword. The shield was usually round and composed 
 of several layers of oxhide covered with ornamented 
 metal; the greaves were defensive panoply of leather 
 or soft metal wrapped completely about the leg. 
 "The most elaborate work of art in Homer is the 
 shield of Achilles. The central part of the shield 
 was adorned with representations of earth, heaven, 
 sea, sun, moon, and stars. The outer rim of the 
 shield represented the earth-girdling river, Oceanus. 
 Between the boss and the rim successive concentric 
 
XXX VI INTRODUCTION 
 
 bands displayed various scenes of human life : a be- 
 sieged city; a city at peace; ploughing; reaping; 
 vintage; oxen attacked by lions; sheep at pasture in 
 a glen; youths and maidens dancing." 
 
 There is no reference in Homer to coined money. 
 The ordinary measure of value is the ox; a female 
 slave is worth four oxen, a suit of " golden " armor 
 is worth a hundred. 
 
 The Homeric place of the dead is "the house of 
 Hades." Between the earth and Hades is an inter- 
 mediate region of gloom, called Erebus. Beyond 
 Hades is Tartarus, the prison of the Titans. 
 
 The Homeric poems were publicly recited by rhap- 
 sodes as early as 600 b.c. And the poems are found 
 at an early date diffused throughout the Greek world. 
 At Athens there was a special ordinance, probably 
 as old as 600 b.c, prescribing that Homer should be 
 recited at the festival of the Great Panathensea, once 
 in every four years. The earliest reference to Homer 
 in literature is in a lost poem of Callinus, who flour- 
 ished about 690 b.c. Pausanias reports Callinus as 
 believing Homer to be the author of an epic called 
 Thebais. The earliest quotation from Homer is made 
 by Simonides of Ceos, born 566 b.c, who quotes IL 
 VI. 148 as the utterance of "the man of Chios." 
 
 The editions of Homer in the Alexandrian Library 
 were chiefly of two classes, those known by the names 
 
THE HOMERIC POEMS XXX Vll 
 
 of individual editors and tliose known by the names 
 of cities. When cited collectively the latter are called 
 the civic editions. It is believed that the copies 
 known to the Alexandrians rested upon an older vul- 
 gate text, the sources of which are unknown. Zeno- 
 dotus, an Ephesian, librarian of the Alexandrian 
 Museum, in the third century b.c, published a recen- 
 sion of Homer and a Homeric glossary. His pupil, 
 Aristophanes of Byzantium, also published a recension 
 of Homer. Aristarchus of Samothrace was a pupil 
 of Aristophanes and succeeded him as librarian of the 
 Alexandrian Library. He published two editions of 
 the text of Homer. Professor Jebb notes three gen- 
 eral aspects of his work: he carefully studied the 
 Homeric usage of Avords, he gave full weight to 
 manuscript authority, and he commented on the sub- 
 ject-matter of Homer. A rival school of Homeric 
 interpretation sprang up at Pergamum in Mysia, 
 where Crates, a contemporary of Aristarchus, and 
 librarian of Pergamum, published Homeric commen- 
 taries. He is said to have been the champion of 
 " anomaly " as Aristarchus was the champion of 
 "analogy"; that is, the Alexandrian school, repre- 
 sented by Aristarchus, was essentially a school of 
 accurate grammatical scholarship, and insisted upon 
 the strict application of rules to the forms of words, 
 while Crates dwelt more upon the exceptions. 
 
XXXVlll INTRODUCTION 
 
 The results of the inquiry into the ancient study of 
 Homer warrant a general conclusion of the highest 
 importance in regard to the whole existing text of 
 Homer. In the words of Professor Jebb it is as fol- 
 lows : " The editions used by Aristarchus represented 
 an older common text, or vulgate, and one of these 
 editions was that of Antimachus (circ. 410 b.c), in 
 which the variations appear to have been only of the 
 same small kind as in the rest. Hence there is the 
 strongest reason for believing that the common text 
 of 200 B.C. went back at least to the fifth century b.c. 
 But Aristarchus caused no breach in the transmission 
 of the common text. He made no wild conjecture or 
 violent dislocations. He handed on what he had re- 
 ceived, with such help towards exhibiting it in a purer 
 form as careful collation and study could give ; and so, 
 with comparatively slight modifications, it descended 
 to the age from which our MSS. date. Our common 
 text, then, we may reasonably believe, is fundamen- 
 tally the same as that which was known to Aristar- 
 chus; and therefore, in all probability, it rests on 
 the same basis as the text which was read by Plato 
 and Thucydides." (Jebb, Introduction to Homer , p. 
 102.) 
 
 Two questions must still be referred to: the his- 
 torical basis of the storj^ of the Iliad and the vexed 
 problem of the authorship of the Homeric poems. 
 
THE HOMERIC POEMS XXXIX 
 
 Concerning the first, Walter Leaf says, in the Com- 
 panion to the Iliad, "The poem may give us a true 
 picture of Achaian Greece and its civilization, and 
 yet be no proof that the armies of Agamemnon fought 
 beneath the walls of Troy. But here, again, the 
 discoveries of recent years, and notably those of 
 Schliemann at Hissarlik, have tended, on the whole, 
 to confirm the belief that there is a historic reality 
 behind the tale of Troy. Two things seem to be 
 clearly made out, First, the Achaian empire was suf- 
 ficiently powerful to collect a great armament and 
 transport it across the seas for a distant war. Here, 
 as in so many unexpected points, we get light from 
 Egypt; for it seems to be made out that about 1500 b.c. 
 the Achaians were allies of the Libyans in a great 
 invasion of Egypt; possibly colonies of them were 
 actually established there. If the Achaians could 
 invade Egypt, there is no antecedent improbability in 
 their invading Troas. Secondly, at the very point 
 where tradition placed the city of Troy, there actually 
 was a town of unknown antiquity and of considerable 
 power. Thus two of the conditions, which have been 
 gravely doubted previously, are now shown to have 
 actually existed, and there is no a priori improbability, 
 much less an impossibility, in such a Trojan expedi- 
 tion as the Iliad describes. But we can say positively 
 — if indeed it is not sufficiently evident on the face 
 
xl INTRODUCTION 
 
 of it — that the details of the Homeric story cannot 
 possibly be historic. To take one main point, it is a 
 fundamental assumption of the whole Iliad that the 
 Greeks and Trojans are essentially one people in civi- 
 lization and belief, in dress, manners, and language. 
 Hardly here and there, as, for instance, in the polyg- 
 amy of Priam, do we find traces of non-Greek habits. 
 But this likeness cannot have existed between the 
 inhabitants of Mykenai and Troy — the Troy of His- 
 sarlik. The inhabitants of Hissarlik had a culture 
 of their own, but it was entirely different from, and 
 inferior to, that of Mykenai. The siege of Troy was 
 a conflict of two races and two cultures with nothing 
 in common. The description of it in the Iliad is 
 purely imaginary — a poetic idealization of an event 
 which can at most have been known by distant tra- 
 dition. Even if Agamemnon and Achilles ever really 
 lived, the Iliad can no more be taken as a proof that 
 they fought before Troy, than the romances of the 
 Middle Ages can prove that Charlemagne headed a 
 crusade and fought before Jerusalem.'' 
 
 There have always been sceptics who have doubted 
 the unity of composition of the Iliad. As early as 1689, 
 Bentley's confidence was shaken by signs of serious 
 tampering with the text of Homer. Wood's Essay on 
 the Genius of Homer, first published in 1769, and re- 
 issued in Germany in 1773, reiterated Bentley's hon- 
 
THE HOMERIC POEMS xli 
 
 est doubts. "Finally, in 1795, Wolf marched forth in 
 complete mail, a sheaf of sceptical arrows rattling on 
 his harness, all of which he pointed and feathered, 
 giving by his learning, or by masculine sense, buoy- 
 ancy to their flight, so as to carry tliem into every 
 corner of literary Europe. Then began the row, — 
 then the steam was mounted Avhich has never since 
 subsided, — and then opened upon Germany a career 
 of scepticism which, from the very first, promised to 
 be contagious." (De Quincey.) Without revolving 
 the arguments contained in Wolf's Prolegomena, and 
 the immense critical literature that has followed upon 
 it, it may not be amiss to point out the order and 
 relationship of the books of the Iliad according to the 
 latest scholarship. The subject of the epic is the 
 "Wrath of Achilles," and this main, or central story 
 is contained in the following books : I. The Quarrel 
 of Agamemnon and Achilles; XI. The Rout of the 
 Greeks; XVI. The Exploits and Death of Patroklos; 
 XXII. The Slaying of Hector. 
 
 The tale is not absolutely comple1?e, for scattered 
 fragments found in the intervening books are needed 
 to round out the narrative. The first book is complete 
 in itself: Zeus has promised to avenge Achilles and 
 proceeds to bring the Greeks and Trojans into a 
 pitched battle in order that the Greeks may be de- 
 feated. The way by which this is brought about is 
 
xlii INTRODUCTION 
 
 described in the second book : Zeus sends a false dream 
 to Agamemnon to tell him that the hour of victory is 
 at hand, while to the Trojans he sends Iris with a 
 command to march at once into the plain. The close 
 of Book XI. leaves the Greeks in a state of defeat 
 and flight, deprived of all their leaders except Aias, 
 who still remains to cover the retreat. But at the 
 beginning of Book XVI. we find him defending the 
 ships. The intervening explanatory narrative is to 
 be found at the end of XV., which fits on to the end 
 of XI. The interval between XVI. and XXII. is 
 more difficult to bridge. Book XVI. has brought us 
 to the death of Patroklos. In Book XXII. we have 
 Achilles in the full career of revenge. The inter- 
 mediate action is accounted for in the following 
 manner by Walter Leaf : " In the original story the 
 body of Patroklos was not saved at all; the bringing 
 of the news of his death to Achilles in the beginning 
 of XVIII., in some form or another, probably stood 
 in the oldest form of the poem, and was immediately 
 followed by the issuing of Achilles from the camp as 
 told at the end of XIX." 
 
 With splendid eloquence De Quincey describes the 
 character and argues the unity of this stupendous 
 story of the Wrath of Achilles : — 
 
 "Now, this unity is sufficiently secured if it should 
 appear that a considerable section of the Iliad — and 
 
THE HOMERIC POEMS xliii 
 
 that section by far the most full of motion, of human 
 interest, of tragical catastrophe, and through which 
 runs, as the connecting principle, a character the 
 most brilliant, magnanimous, and noble, that pag^n 
 morality could conceive — was, and must have been, 
 the work and conception of a single mind. Achilles 
 revolves through that section of the Iliad in a series 
 of phases, each of which looks forward and backward 
 to all the rest. He travels like the sun through his 
 diurnal course. We see him first of all rising upon 
 us as a princely councillor for the welfare of the 
 Grecian host. We see him atrociously insulted in 
 this office; yet, still, though a king, and unused to 
 opposition, and boiling with youthful blood, neverthe- 
 less controlling his passion, and retiring in clouded 
 majesty. Even thus, though having now so excellent 
 a plea for leaving the army, and though aware of the 
 early death that awaited him if he stayed, he disdains 
 to profit by the evasion. We see him still living in 
 the tented field, and generously unable to desert those 
 who had so insultingly deserted him. We see him in 
 a dignified retirement, fulfilling all the duties of re- 
 ligion, friendship, hospitality; and, like an accom- 
 plished man of taste, cultivating the arts of peace. 
 We see him so far surrendering his wrath to the 
 earnest persuasion of friendship, that he comes forth 
 at a critical moment for the Greeks to save them from 
 
xliv INTRODUCTION 
 
 ruin. What are his arms? He has none at all. 
 Simply by his voice he changes the face of the battle. 
 He shouts, and nations fly from the sound. Never 
 but once again is such a shout recorded by a poet: — 
 
 ' He caird so loud, that all the hollow deep 
 Of hell resounded.' 
 
 Who called? That shout was the shout of an arch- 
 angel. Next, we see him reluctantly allowing his 
 dearest friend to assume his own arms; tlie kindness 
 and the modesty of his nature forbidding him to sug- 
 gest, that not the divine weapons, but the immortal 
 arm of the wielder had made them invincible. His 
 friend perishes. Then we see him rise in his noon- 
 tide wrath, before which no life could stand. The 
 frenzy of his grief makes him for a time cruel and 
 implacable. He sweeps the field of battle like a 
 monsoon. His revenge descends perfect, sudden, 
 like a curse from heaven. We now recognize the 
 goddess-born. This is his avatar — the incarnate 
 descent of his wrath. Had he moved to battle under 
 the ordinary impulses of Ajax, Diomed, and the other 
 heroes, we never could have sympathized or gone 
 along with so withering a course. We should have 
 viewed him as a 'scourge of God,' or fiend, born for 
 the tears of wives and the maledictions of mothers. 
 But the poet, before he would let him loose upon men, 
 
THE HOMERIC POEMS . xlv 
 
 creates for him a sufficient, or at least palliating, 
 motive. In the sternest of his acts we read only the 
 anguish of his grief. This is surely the perfection of 
 art. At length the work of destruction is finished; 
 but if the poet leaves him at this point, there would 
 be a want of repose, and we should be left with a 
 painful impression of his hero as forgetting the 
 earlier humanities of his nature, and brought forward 
 only for final exhil)ition in his terrific phases. Now, 
 therefore, by machinery the most natural, we see tliis 
 paramount hero travelling back within our gentler 
 sympathies, and revolving to his rest like the vesper 
 sun disrobed of his blazing terrors. We see him 
 settling down to that humane and princely character 
 in which he had been first exhibited; we see him re- 
 lenting at the sight of Priam's gray hairs, touched 
 with the sense of human calamity, and once again 
 mastering his passion (grief now) as formerly he had 
 mastered his wrath. He consents that his feud shall 
 sleep; he surrenders the corpse of his capital enemy; 
 and the last farewell chords of the poem rise with a 
 solemn intonation from the grave of ' Hector, the 
 tamer of horses ' — that noble soldier who had so 
 long been the column of his country, and to whom, 
 in his dying moments, the stern Achilles had declared, 
 but then in the middle career of his grief, that no 
 honorable burial should ever be granted. 
 
Xlvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 " Such is the outline of an Achilleis, as it might be 
 gathered from the Iliad; and for the use of schools 
 we are surprised that such a beautiful whole has not 
 long since been extracted. A tale more affecting by 
 its story and vicissitudes does not exist; and, after 
 this, who cares in what order the non-essential parts 
 of the poem may be arranged, or whether Homer was 
 their author? It is sufficient that one mind must 
 have executed this Achilleis, in consequence of its 
 intense unity. Every part implies every other part. 
 With such a model before him as this poem on the 
 wrath of Achilles, Aristotle could not carry his notions 
 of unity too high. And the unifying mind which 
 could conceive and execute the Achilleis — that is 
 what we mean by Homer. As well might it be said, 
 that the parabola described by a cannon-ball was in 
 one half due to a iirst discharge, and in the other 
 half to a second, as that one poet could lay the prepa- 
 rations for the passion and sweep of such a poem, 
 whilst another conducted it to a close. Creation does 
 not proceed by instalments : the steps of its revolu- 
 tion are not successive, but simultaneous; and the 
 last book of the Achilleis was undoubtedly conceived 
 in the same moment as the first. 
 
 " What effect such an Achilleis, abstracted from the 
 Iliad, would probably leave upon the mind, it happens 
 that we can measure by our own childish experience. 
 
SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS xlvii 
 
 In Eussell's Ancient Euro2Je, a book much used in the 
 last century, there is an abstract of the Iliad, which 
 presents very nearly the outline of an Achilleis, such 
 as we have supposed. The heroes are made to speak 
 in a sort of stilted, or at least buskined language, not 
 unsuited to youthful taste: and from the close con- 
 vergement of the separate parts, the interest is con- 
 densed. This book, in our eighth year, we read. 
 It was our first introduction to the ' Tale of Troy 
 divine'; and we do not deceive ourselves in saying, 
 that this memorable experience drew from us the first 
 unselfish tears that ever we shed; and by the stings 
 of grief which it left behind, demonstrated its own 
 natural pathos." (De Quincey, Homer and the 
 Homer idee.) 
 
 SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS 
 
 As the Iliad is one of the world's great master- 
 pieces, it is a book to live with, not to read once and 
 have done with. It is a source of perpetual profit, 
 inspiration, and delight. It discloses at the fiftieth 
 reading beauties that were unseen at the first ac- 
 quaintance. In Homer, as Frederic Harrison says, 
 "alone of the poets, a national life is transfigured, 
 wholly beautiful, complete, and happy; where care, 
 doubt, decay, are as yet unborn. Here is a secular 
 
xlviii INTRODUCTION 
 
 Eden of the natural man — man not yet fallen or 
 ashamed. . . . And yet how seldom do we hnd a 
 friend spellbound over the Greek Bible of antiquity, 
 whilst they wade through torrents of magazine quo- 
 tations from a petty versifier of to-day, and in an idle 
 vacation will graze, as contentedly as cattle in a fresh 
 meadow, through the chopped straw of a circulating 
 library. A generation which will listen to Pinafore 
 for three hundred nights, and will read M. Zola's 
 seventeenth romance, can no more read Homer than 
 it could read a cuneiform inscription. It will read 
 about Homer just as it will read about a cuneiform 
 inscription, and will crowd to see a few pots which 
 probably came from the neighborhood of Troy. But 
 to Homer and the primeval type of heroic man in his 
 simple joyousness the cultured generation is really 
 dead, as completely as some spoiled beauty of the 
 ballroom is blind to the bloom of the heather or the 
 waving of the daffodils in a glade." 
 
 The first duty of the teacher is to stimulate a healthy 
 love of reading and to kindle that inextinguishable love 
 for literature which, Gibbon said, in words which are 
 burned into the memory, he would not exchange for the 
 wealth of the Indies. We should not be deceived by 
 any solemn pedantry or shallow pedagogy into regard- 
 ing the Jo?/ of literary study as a mere dilettante amuse- 
 ment. In the public schools there is a large class of boys 
 
SUGGESTIONS TO TEACHERS . xlix 
 
 who come from bare homes where books are unknown, 
 and another large class whose imaginations have been 
 inflamed by the dime dreadful, or the weekly story 
 paper. The manliest of stories, the most heroic of 
 tales of adventures by land or sea, are too tame or 
 too slow for the appetite of one of these. He is 
 callous to Dana or Melville; he thinks "Westward 
 Ho! " "tiresomely dull." If only he can be beguiled 
 into a love of reading, all other things become possi- 
 ble to him. Grammar he will learn best not from 
 rules and principles, but as it is organized in thought 
 and feeling in the great masters of expression; and 
 he will unconsciously grow into a likeness with the 
 company he keeps. He will enlarge his vocabulary 
 with each book observingly read, and his tongue will 
 unconsciously grow fluent and his pen more facile as 
 he acquires, apparently without labor, the diflicult 
 art of expression. 
 
 Most of us, a shrewd observer has said, find that 
 true sympathy with our classics begins only then 
 when our academic study of them is wholly at an end. 
 There is therefore at first no need of glossaries and 
 commentaries, and the poem may be treated as an 
 English poem, and read for the delight of the narra- 
 tive. The tale of Troy should first be told, and, with 
 the student's curiosity thus aroused, the reading of 
 the text begun. Xo hint need be given, until the 
 
1 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Iliad is read and read again, of what modern scholar- 
 ship has discovered concerning Homer. Least of all 
 need the child's imagination be disturbed by theories 
 of the authorship of the books, and all the din of con- 
 troversy raised by Wolf and his successors. 
 
 No disciple of Herbart ever evolved a more careful 
 plan of education, or method of pedagogic practice, 
 than that which Robert Browning drew concerning 
 this very poem, and which may be commended to the 
 thoughtful attention of both teacher and pupil. 
 
 DEVELOPMENT 
 
 My Father was a scholar and knew Greek. 
 When I was five years old, I asked him once 
 " What do you read about? " 
 
 "The Siege of Troy." 
 *' What is a siege, and what is Troy ? " 
 
 Whereat 
 He piled up chairs and tables for a town. 
 Set me a-top for Priam, called our cat 
 
 — Helen, enticed away from home (he said) 
 By wicked Paris, who couched somewhere close 
 Under the footstool, being cowardly. 
 
 But whom — since she was worth the pains, poor puss- 
 Towzer and Tray — our dogs, the Atreidai, — sought 
 By taking Troy to get possession of 
 
 — Always when great Achilles ceased to sulk, 
 (My pony in the stable) — forth would prance 
 
DEVELOPMENT 
 
 And put to flight Hector — our page boy's self. 
 This taught nie who was who and what was what : 
 So far I rightly understood the case 
 At five years old : a huge delight it proved 
 And still proves — thanks to that instructor sage 
 My Father, who knew better than turn straight 
 Learning's full flare on weak-eyed ignorance" 
 Or, worse yet, leave weak eyes to grow sand-blind, 
 Content with darkness and vacuity. 
 
 It happened, two or three years afterward, 
 
 That — I and playmates playing at Troy's Siege — 
 
 My Father came upon our make-believe. 
 
 " How would you like to read yourself the tale 
 
 Properly told, of which I gave you first 
 
 Merely such notion as a boy could bear ? 
 
 Pope, now, would give you the precise account 
 
 Of what some day by dint of scholarship, 
 
 You'll hear — who knows? — from Homer's very mouth. 
 
 Learn Greek by all means, read the 'Blind Old Man, 
 
 Sweetest of smgeTs' —tiqmos which means ' blind,' ' 
 
 Hedistos which means ' sweetest.' Time enough ! ' 
 
 Try, anyhow, to master him some day ; 
 
 Until when, take what serves for substitute, 
 
 Read Pope, by all means ! " 
 
 So I ran through Pope, 
 Enjoyed the tale — what history so true ? 
 Also attacked my Primer, duly drudged, 
 Grew fitter thus for what was promised next — 
 The very thing itself, the actual words, 
 When I could turn — say, Buttraan to account. 
 
lii mTRODUCTtON 
 
 Time passed, I ripened somewhat : one fine day, 
 " Quite ready for the lliad^ nothing less ? 
 There's Heine, where the big books block the shelf -. 
 Don't skip a word, thumb well the Lexicon ! " 
 
 I thumbed well, and skipped nowise till I learned 
 Who was who, what was what, from Homer's tongue, 
 And there an end of learning. Had you asked 
 The all-accomplished scholar, twelve years old, 
 " Who was it wrote the Iliad? ^^ — what a laugh ! 
 " Why, Homer, all the world knows : of his life 
 Doubtless some facts exist : it's everywhere : 
 We have not settled, though, his place of birth : 
 He begged, for certain, and was blind beside : 
 Seven cities claimed him — Scio, with best right. 
 Thinks Byron. What he wrote ? Those Hynnis we have 
 Then there's the ' Battle of the Frogs and Mice,' 
 That's all — unless they dig ' Margites ' up 
 (I'd like that) nothing more remains to know." 
 
 Thus did youth spend a comfortable time ; 
 Until — " What's this the Germans say is fact 
 That Wolf found out first ? It's unpleasant work 
 Their chop and change, unsettling one's belief : 
 All the same, while we live, we learn, that's sure." 
 So, I bent brow o'er Prolegomena. 
 
 And, after Wolf, a dozen of his like 
 Proved there was never any Troy at all, 
 Neither Besiegers nor Besieged, — nay worse, — 
 No actual Homer, no authentic text. 
 No warrant for the fiction I, as fact, 
 
DEVELOPMENT liii 
 
 Had treasured in my heart and soul so long — 
 
 Ay, mark you ! and as fact held still, still hold, 
 
 Spite of new knowledge, in my heart of hearts 
 
 And soul of souls, fact's essence freed and fixed 
 
 From accidental fancy's guardian sheath. 
 
 Assuredly thenceforth — thank my stars ! — 
 
 However it got there, deprive who couli — 
 
 Wring from the shrine my precious tenantry, 
 
 Helen, Ulysses, Hector and his spouse, 
 
 Achilles and his friend ?— though Wolf — ah. Wolf ! 
 
 Why must he needs come doubting, spoil a dream ? 
 
 Butthen. "No dream's worth waking'"— Browning says: 
 
 And here's the reason why I tell thus much. 
 
 I, now mature man, you anticipate. 
 
 May blame my Father justifiably 
 
 For letting me dream out my nonage thus, 
 
 And only by such slow and sure degrees 
 
 Permitting me to sift the grain from chaff, 
 
 Get truth and falsehood known and named as such. 
 
 Why did he ever let me dream at all, 
 
 Not bid me taste the story in its strength ? 
 
 Suppose my childhood was scarce qualified 
 
 To rightly understand mythology. 
 
 Silence at least was in his power to keep : 
 
 I might have — somehow — correspondingly — 
 
 Well, who knows by what method, gained my gains, 
 
 Been taught, by forthrights, not meanderings, 
 
 My aim should be to loathe, like Peleus' son, 
 
 A lie as Hell's Gate, love my wedded wife, 
 
 Like Hector, and so on with all the rest. 
 
 Could not I have excogitated this 
 
 Without believing such men really were ? 
 
liv INTRODUCTION 
 
 That is — he might have put into my hand 
 
 The " Ethics" ? In translation, if you please, 
 
 Exact, no pretty lying that improves, 
 
 To suit the modern taste : no more, no less — 
 
 The "Ethics" : 'tis a treatise I find hard 
 
 To read aright now that my hair is gray, 
 
 And I can manage the original. 
 
 At five years old — how ill had fared its leaves ! 
 
 Now, growing double o'er the Stagirite, 
 
 At least I soil no page with bread and milk, 
 
 Nor crumple, dogs-ear and deface — boys' way. 
 
INTRODUCTION Iv 
 
 The student will find the following books helpful in 
 the study of Pope and his translation of the Iliad: — 
 Robert Carruthers, The Life of Alexander Pope, Lon- 
 don, 1857. C. W. Dilke, Papers of a Critic, 1875. 
 W. J. Courthope, Life of Pope, Vol. V. of Elwin's edi- 
 tion of Pope (Murray), 10 vols., 1871-1889. The Iliad 
 of Homer ; translated by Mr. Pope, first four books, 
 1715; next three volumes, 1716, 1717, 1718 ; last two 
 volumes in 1720. Leslie Stephen, " Pope," in the series 
 of English Men of Letters (Harper), 1880. De Quin- 
 cey, " Pope," in Biographical Essays. De Quincey, 
 Ho7ner and the Ho^neridce. Lowell, " Pope," in My 
 Study Windows. E,. C. Jebb, Introduction to the Iliad 
 and the Odyssey (Ginn), 1887. Walter Leaf, Comptan- 
 ion to the Iliad (Macmillan), 1892. G. C. W. Warr, 
 Tlie Greek Epic (London), 1895. J. P. Mahaffy, Social 
 Life in Greece from Homer to Menander (Macmillan), 
 1874. Andrew Lang, Homer and the Epic (Long- 
 mans), 1893. Charles Mills Gayley, Classic Myths in 
 English Literature (Ginn), 1893, 
 
POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 THE CONTENTION OF ACHILLES AND AGAMEMNON 
 
 AcHiLLEs'° wrath, to Greece the direful spring 
 Of woes unnumber'd, heav'nly goddess,° sing ! 
 That Avrath which hurPd to Pluto's° gloomy reign° 
 The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain ; 
 Whose limbs,° unburied on the naked shore, 5 
 
 Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore : 
 Since great Achilles and Atrides° strove, 
 Such° was the sov'reign doom, and such the will of 
 Jove ! 
 Declare, Muse ! in what ill-fated hour 
 Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power ? lo 
 Latona's° son a dire contagion spread, 
 And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead ; 
 The king° of men his rev'rend° priest defied, 
 And, for the king's offence, the people died. 
 
 B 1 
 
2 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 For Ohryses sought with costly gifts to gain 15 
 
 His captive daiightei: from the victor's chain. 
 Supplia-fii: the v?ener£^.ble father stands ; 
 Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands : 
 By these he begs ; and, lowly bending down, 
 Extends the sceptre° and the laurel crown. 20 
 
 He sued to all, but chief implor'd for grace 
 The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race : 
 
 " Ye° kings and warriors ! may yonr vows be 
 crown'd, 
 And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground ; 
 May Jove restore you, when your toils are o'er, 25 
 
 Safe to the pleasures of your native shore. 
 But oh ! relieve a wretched parent's pain, 
 And give Chryseis° to these arms again ; 
 If mercy fail, yet let my presents move, 
 And dread avenging Phoebus,° son of Jove." 30 
 
 The Greeks in shouts their joint assent declare. 
 The priest to rev'rence, and release the fair.° 
 Not so Atrides : he, with kingly pride, 
 Eepuls'd the sacred sire, and thus replied : 
 
 " Hence on thy life, and fly these hostile plains, 35 
 Nor ask, presumptuous, what the king detains j 
 Hence, with thy laurel crown and golden rod. 
 Nor trust too far those ensigns of thy god. 
 
BOOK I 3 
 
 Mine is thy daughter, priest, and shall remain ; 
 And prayers, and tears, and bribes, shall plead in 
 vain ; 40 
 
 Till time shall rifle every youthful grace, 
 And age dismiss her from my cold embrace ; 
 In daily labours of the loom employ'd, 
 Or doom'd to deck the bed she once enjoy 'd. 
 Hence then ; to Argos° shall the maid retire, 45 
 
 Far from her native soil and weejoing sire." 
 
 The trembling priest along the shore return' d, 
 And in the anguish of a father mourn'd. 
 Disconsolate, not daring to complain. 
 Silent he wander'd° by the sounding main ; 50 
 
 Till, safe at distance, to his god he prays. 
 The god who darts around the world his rays : - 
 
 " Smintheus° ! sprung from fair Latona's line, 
 Thou guardian power of Cilla° the divine, 
 Thou source of light ! whom Tenedos adores, 55 
 
 And whose bright presence gilds thy Chrysa's shores ; 
 If e'er with wreaths I hung thy sacred fane. 
 Or fed the flames with fat of oxen slain ; 
 God of the silver bow ! thy shafts employ, 
 Avenge° thy servant, and the Greeks destroy.'' 60 
 
 Thus Chryses pray'd : the f av'ring power attends, 
 And from Olympus' lofty tops descends. ° 
 
4 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Bent was his bow, the Grecian hearts to w^oimd ; 
 
 Fierce, as he mov'd, his silver shafts resound. 
 
 Breathing revenge, a sudden night he spread, 65 
 
 And gloomy darkness roll'd around° his head. 
 
 The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow, 
 
 And hissing fly the feather'd fates below. 
 
 On mules and dogs th' infection first began ; 
 
 And last, the vengeful arrows fix'd in man. 70 
 
 For nine long nights through ail the dusky air 
 
 The pyres thick-flaming shot a dismal glare. 
 
 But ere the tenth revolving day was run, 
 
 Inspir'd by Juno,° Thetis'° god-like son 
 
 Conven'd to council all the Grecian train ; 75 
 
 For much the goddess mourn'd her heroes slain. 
 
 Th' assembly seated, rising o'er the rest, 
 Achilles thus the king of men address'd : 
 
 "Why leave we not the fatal Trojan shore. 
 And measure back the seas we cross' d before ? 80 
 
 The plague destroying whom the sword would spare,° 
 'Tis time to save the few remains of war.° 
 But let some prophet or some sacred sage 
 Explore the cause of great Apollo's rage ; 
 Or learn the wasteful vengeance to remove 85 
 
 By mystic° dreams, for dreams descend from Jove. 
 If broken vows this heavy curse have laid, 
 
BOOK 1 5 
 
 Let altars smoke, and hecatombs° be paid. 
 
 So heav'n aton'd shall dying G-reece restore, 
 
 And Phcebus dart his burning shafts no more." 9a 
 
 He said, and sate : when Calchas thus replied, 
 Calchas° the wise, the Grecian priest and guide, 
 That sacred seer, whose comprehensive view 
 The past, the present, and the future knew : 
 Uprising slow, the venerable sage 95 
 
 Thus spoke the prudence and the fears of age ; 
 
 '' Belov'd of Jove, Achilles ! wouldst thou know 
 Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal bow ? 
 First give thy faith,' and plight a prince's word 
 Of sure protection, by thy ^^ow'r and sword. 100 
 
 For I must speak what wisdom would conceal. 
 And truths invidious to the great reveal. 
 Bold is the task, when subjects, grown too wise, 
 Instruct a monarch where his error lies ; 
 For though we deem the short-liv'd fury past, 105 
 
 'Tis sure, the mighty will revenge at last." 
 
 To whom Pelides : '• From thy inmost soul 
 Speak what thou know'st, and speak without control. 
 Ev'n by that god I swear, who rules the day. 
 To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey, no 
 And whose blest oracles thy lips declare : 
 Long as Achilles breathes this vital air, 
 
6 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 No daring Greek, of all the num'rous band, 
 Against his priest shall lift an impious hand : 
 Not ev'n the chief by whom our hosts are led, 115 
 
 The king of kings, shall touch that sacred head." 
 
 Encourag'd thus, the blameless^ man replies : 
 " Nor vows unpaid, nor slighted sacrifice. 
 But he, our chief, provok'd the raging pest, 
 Apollo's vengeance for his injur'd priest. 120 
 
 Nor will the god's awaken'd fury cease. 
 But plagues shall spread, and fun'ral fires increase. 
 Till the great king, without a ransom paid. 
 To her own Chrysa send the black-ey'd ° maid. 
 Perhaps, with added sacrifice and pray'r, 125 
 
 The priest may pardon, and the god may spare." 
 
 The prophet spoke ; when, with a gloomy frown, 
 The monarch started from his shining throne ; 
 Black choler fill'd his breast that boil'd with ire. 
 And from his eyeballs flash 'd the living fire. 130 
 
 '' Augur accurs'd ! denouncing mischief still, 
 Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill ! 
 Still must that tongue some wounding message bring. 
 And still thy priestly pride provoke thy king ? 
 For this are Phoebus' oracles explor'd, 135 
 
 To teach the Greeks to murmur at their lord ? 
 For this with falsehoods is my honour stain'd, 
 
BOOK I 7 
 
 Is heaven offended, and a priest profan'd, 
 
 Because my prize, my beauteous maid, I hold, 
 
 And heav'nly charms prefer to proffer'd gold? 140 
 
 A maid, unmatch'd in manners as in face, 
 
 Skill'd in each art, and crown'd with every grace : 
 
 Not half so dear were Clytsemnestra's ° charms. 
 
 When first her blooming beauties bless'd my arms. 
 
 Yet, if the gods demand her, let her sail ; 145 
 
 Our cares are only for the public weal : 
 
 Let me be deem'd the hateful cause of all, 
 
 And suffer, rather than my people fall. 
 
 The prize, the beauteous prize, I will resign, 
 
 So dearly valu'd, and so justly ° mine. 150 
 
 But since for common good I yield the fair, 
 
 ]\[y private loss let grateful Greece repair ; 
 
 Nor unrewarded let your prince complain. 
 
 That he alone has fought and bled in vaii 
 
 " Insatiate king ! " (Achilles thus re|mes) 
 " Fond of the pow'r, but fonder of the prize ! 
 Wouldst thou the Greeks their lawful prey should 
 
 yield, 
 The due reward of many a well-fought ° field ? 
 The spoils of cities raz'd and warriors slain. 
 We share with justice, as with toil we gain: 160 
 
 But to resume Avhate'er thy av'rice craves 
 
V 
 
 8 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 (That trick of tyrants) may be borne by slaves. 
 Yet if our chief for plunder only fight, 
 The spoils of Ilion shall thy loss requite, 
 Whene'er, by Jove's decree, our conqu'ring pow'rs 165 
 Shall humble to the dust her lofty tow'rs." 
 
 Then thus the king : ^' Shall I my prize resign 
 With tame content, and thou possess'd of thine ? 
 Great as thou art, and like a god in fight, 
 Think not to rob me of a soldier's right. 170 
 
 At thy demand shall I restore the maid ? 
 First let the just equivalent be paid; 
 Such as a king might ask ; and let it be 
 A treasure worthy her, and worthy me. 
 Or grant me this, or with a monarch's claim 175 
 
 This hand shall seize some other captive dame. 
 The mighty ° Ajax shall his prize resign, 
 Ulysses' spoils, or ev'n thy own, be mine. 
 The man who suffers, loudly may complain ; 
 And rage he may, but he shall rage in vain. 180 
 
 But this when time requires — it now remains 
 We launch a bark to plough the wat'ry plains. 
 And waft the sacrifice to Chrysa's shores, 
 With chosen pilots, and with lab'ring oars. 
 Soon shall the fair the sable ship ascend, 185 
 
 And some deputed prince the charge attend. 
 
BOOK I 
 
 This Greta's" king, or Ajax shall fulfil, 
 Or wise Ulysses see perform'd our will ; 
 Or, if our royal pleasure shall ordain, 
 Achilles' self conduct her o'er the main; 
 Let fierce Achilles, dreadful in his rage, 
 The god propitiate, and the pest assuage." 
 At this, Pelides, frowning stern, replied : 
 " tyrant, arin'd with insolence and pride ! 
 Inglorious slave to int'rest, ever join'd 
 AVith fraud, unworthy of a royal mind ! 
 What gen'rous Greek, obedient to thy word. 
 Shall form an ambush, or shall lift the sword ? 
 What cause have I to war at thy decree ? 
 The distant Trojans never injur'd me : 
 To Phthia's° realms no hostile troops they led; 
 Safe in her vales my warlike coursers fed ; 
 Far hence remov'd, the hoarse-resounding main 
 And walls of rocks secure my native reign. 
 Whose fruitful soil luxuriant harvests grace, 
 Eich in her fruits, and in her martial race. 
 Hither we sail'd, a voluntary throng, 
 T' avenge a private, not a public wrong : 
 What else to Troy th' assembl'd nations draws. 
 But thine, ungrateful, and thy brother's cause ? 
 Is this the pay our blood and toils deserve, 
 
 190 
 
 195 
 
 20; 
 
10 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Disgrac'd and injur'd by the man we serve? 
 
 And dar'st thou threat to snatch my prize away, 
 
 Due to the deeds of many a dreadful day, 
 
 A prize as small, tyrant, match'd with thine, 215 
 
 As thy own actions if compar'd to mine ! 
 
 Thine in each conquest is the wealthy prey. 
 
 Though mine the sweat and danger of the day. 
 
 Some trivial present to my sliips I bear. 
 
 Or barren praises pay the wounds of w ar. 220 
 
 But know, proud monarch, I'm thy slave no more ; 
 
 My fleet shall waft me to Tbessalia's shore. 
 
 Left by Achilles on the Trojan plain. 
 
 What spoils, what conquests, shall Atrides gai 
 
 To this the king : " Fly, mighty warrior, flyT 
 Thy aid we need not and thy threats defy. 
 There want not chiefs in snch a cause to fight, 
 And Jove himself shall guard a monarch's" right. 
 Of all the kings (the gods' distinguish'd care) 
 To pow'r su])erior none such hatred bear : . 23c 
 
 Strife" and debate thy restless soul employ. 
 And wars and horrors are thy savage joy. 
 If thou hast strength, 'twas heav'n that strength 
 
 bestow'd, 
 For know, vain man ! thy valour is from God. 
 Haste, launch thy vessels, fly with speed away, 235 
 
BOOK I 11 
 
 Eiile thy own realms with arbitrary s^Yay : 
 
 I heed thee not, but prize at equal rate 
 
 Thy short-liv'd friendship and thy groundless hate. 
 
 Go, threat thy earth-born ]\Iyrmidons° ; but here 
 
 'Tis mine to threaten, prince, and thine to fear. 240 
 
 Know, if the god the beauteous dame demand, 
 
 My bark shall waft her to her native land ; 
 
 But then prepare, imperious prince ! prepare. 
 
 Fierce as thou art, to yield thy captive fair : 
 
 Ev'n in thy tent I'll seize the blooming prize, 245 
 
 Thy lov'd Briseis with the radiant eyes. 
 
 Hence shalt thou prove my might, and curse the hour 
 
 Thou stood'st a rival of imperial pow"r ; 
 
 And hence to all our host it shall be known 
 
 That kings are subject to the gods alone." 250 
 
 Achilles heard, with grief and rage oppress'd ; 
 His heart swell'd high, and labour'd in his breast. 
 Pistracting thoughts b}' turns his bosom rul'd, 
 Now fir'd by wrath, and now by reason cool'd : 
 That prompts his hand to draw the deadly sword, 255 
 Force thro' the Greeks, and pierce their haughty lord ; 
 This whispers soft, his vengeance to control, 
 And calm the rising tempest of his soul. 
 Just as in anguish of suspense he stay'd, 
 While half unsheath'd appear'd the glitt'ring blade, 260 
 
12 pope's ILIAD 
 
 Minerva swift descended from above, 
 
 Sent by the sister and the wife of Jove 
 
 (For both the princes claim'd her equal care) ; 
 
 Behind she stood, and by the golden hair 
 
 Achilles seiz'd ; to him alone confess'd,° 265 
 
 A sable cloud conceal'd her from the rest. 
 
 He sees, and sudden to the goddess cries, 
 
 Known by the flames that sparkle from her eyes : 
 
 "Descends Minerva in her guardian care, 
 A heav'nly witness of the wrongs I bear 270 
 
 From Atreus' son ? Then let those eyes that view 
 The daring crime, behold the vengeance too." 
 
 " Forbear ! " (the progeny of Jove replies) 
 " To calm thy fury I forsake the skies : 
 Let great Achilles, to the gods resign'd, 275 
 
 To reason yield the empire o'er his mind. 
 By awful Juno this command is giv'n; 
 The king and you are both the care of lieav'n. 
 The force of keen reproaches let him feel. 
 But sheath, obedient, thy revenging steel. 280 
 
 For I pronounce (and trust a heav'nly pow'r) 
 Thy injur'd honour has its fated hour, 
 When the proud monarch shall thy arms implore. 
 And bribe thy friendship with a boundless store. 
 Then let revenge no longer bear the sway, 285 
 
BOOK I 13 
 
 Command thy passions, and the gods obey." 
 
 To her Pelides : " With regardful ear, 
 'Tis just, goddess ! I thy dictates hear. 
 Hard as it is, ni}^ vengeance I suppress : 
 Those who revere the gods, the gods will bless." 290 
 He said, observant of the blue-ey'd maid ; 
 Then in the sheath return'd the shining blade. 
 The goddess swift to high Olympus flies, 
 And joins the sacred senate of the skies. 
 
 Nor yet the rage his boiling breast forsook, 295 
 
 Which thus redoubling on Atrides broke : 
 " 0° monster I mix'd of insolence and fear. 
 Thou dog in forehead, but in heart a deer ! 
 When wert thou known in ambush'd fights to dare, 
 Or nobly face the horrid front of war ? 300 
 
 'Tis ours the chance of fighting fields to try ; 
 Thine to look on and bid the valiant die. 
 So much 'tis safer thro' the camp to go, 
 And rob a subject, than despoil a foe. 
 Scourge of thy people, violent and base ! 305 
 
 Sent in Jove's anger on a slavish race, 
 Who, lost to sense of gen'rous freedom past, 
 Are tam'd to wrongs, or this had been thy last. 
 Now by this sacred° sceptre hear me swear, 
 Which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear, 310 
 
14 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 X 
 
 Which, sever'd from the trunk (as I from thee), 
 
 On the bare mountains left its parent tree ; 
 
 This sceptre, form'd by temper'd steel to prove 
 
 An ensign of the delegates of Jove, 
 
 From whom the pow'r of laws° and justice springs 315 
 
 (Tremendous oath ! inviolate to kings) : 
 
 By this I swear, when bleeding Greece again 
 
 Shall call Achilles, she shall call in vain. 
 
 When, flush'd \\AW\ slaughter, Hector comes to spread 
 
 The purpled shore with mountai^iS of the dead, 320 
 
 Then shalt thou mourn th' affront thy madness gave, 
 
 Forc'd to deplore, when impotent to save : 
 
 Then rage in bitterness of soul, to know 
 
 This act has made the bravest Greek thy foe.'^;^^^ 
 
 He spoke ; and furious hurPd against the ground 325 
 His sceptre starr'd with gold en° studs around; 
 Then sternly silent sate. With like disdain, 
 The raging king return'd his frowns again. 
 
 To calm their passion with the words of age. 
 Slow from his seat arose the Pylian sage, 330 
 
 Experienc'd Nestor,° in persuasion skill'd ; 
 Words sweet as honey from his lips distill'd : 
 Two generations now had pass'd away, 
 Wise by his rules, aud happy by his sway ; 
 Two ages o'er his native realm he reign' d, 335 
 
BOOK 1 15 
 
 And now tli' examj^le of the third remain'd. 
 All view'd with awe the venerable man, 
 Who thus with mild benevolence began : 
 
 ''What shame, what woe is this to Greece! what joy 
 To Troy's proud monarch and the friends of Troy ! 340 
 That adverse gods commit to stern debate 
 The best, the bravest, of the Grecian state. 
 Young as ye are, this youthful heat restrain, 
 Nor think your Nestor's years and wisdom vain. 
 A godlike race of heroes once I knew, 345 
 
 Such as no more these aged eyes shall view^ ! 
 Lives there a chief to match Pirithous'° fame, 
 Dryas the bold, or Ceneus'° deathless name ; 
 Theseus, endued with more than mortal might. 
 Or Polyphemus," like the gods in light ? 350 
 
 With these of old to toils of battle bred, 
 In early youth my hardy days I led ; 
 Fir'd with the thirst which virtuous envy breeds. 
 And smit with love of honourable deeds. 
 Strongest" of men, they pierc'd the mountain boar, 355 
 Eang'd the wild deserts red with monsters' gore, 
 And from their hills the shaggy Centaurs tore. 
 Yet these with soft persuasive arts I sway'd : 
 When Nestor spoke, they listen'd and obey'd. 
 If in my youth, ev'n these esteem'd me wise, 360 
 
16 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 Do you, young warriors, hear my age advise. 
 
 Atrides, seize not on the beauteous slave ; 
 
 That prize the Greeks by common suffrage gave : 
 
 Nor thou, Achilles, treat our prince with pride ; 
 
 Let kings be just, and sov'reign pow'r preside. 365 
 
 Thee the first honours of the war adorn, 
 
 Like gods in strength and of a goddess born ; 
 
 Him awful majesty exalts above 
 
 The pow'rs of earth and sceptred sons of Jove. 
 
 Let both unite with well-consenting mind, 370 
 
 So shall authority with strength be join'd.° 
 
 Leave me, king! to calm Achilles' rage; 
 
 Eule thou thyself, as more advanc'd in age. 
 
 Forbid it, gods ! Achilles should be lost, 
 
 The pride of Greece, and bulwark of our host." 375 
 
 This said, he ceas'd ; the king of men replies : 
 " Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise. 
 But that imperious, that unconquer'd soul, 
 No laws can limit, no respect control : 
 Before his ]3ride must his superiors fall, 380 
 
 His word the law, and he the lord of all ? 
 Him must our hosts, our chiefs, ourself obey ? 
 What king can bear a rival in his sway ? 
 Grant that the gods his matchless force have giv'n; 
 Has foul reproach a privilege from heav'n ? " 3S5 
 
nooK I 17 
 
 Here on the monarch's speech Achilles broke, 
 And furious, thus, and interrupting, spoke : 
 " Tyrant, I well deserv'd thy galling chain, 
 To live thy slave, and still to serve in vain. 
 Should I submit to each unjust decree : 390 
 
 Command thy vassals, but command not me. 
 Seize on Briseis, whom the Grecians doom'd 
 My prize of war, yet tamely see resum'd ; 
 And seize secure ; no more Achilles draws 
 His conqu'ring sword in any woman's cause. 395 
 
 The gods command me to forgive the past ; 
 But let this first invasion be the last : 
 For know, thy blood, when next thou dar'st invade. 
 Shall stream in vengeance on my reeking blade." 
 
 At this they ceas'd ; the stern debate expir'd : 400 
 The chiefs in sullen majesty retir'd. 
 
 Achilles with Patroclus took his way, 
 Where near his tents his hollow vessels lay. 
 Meantime Atrides launch'd with num'rous oar^ 
 A well-rigg'd ship for Chrysa's sacred shores : 405 
 
 High on the deck was fair Chryseis plac'd, 
 And sage Ulysses with the conduct grac'd : 
 Safe in her sides the hecatomb they stow'd. 
 Then, swiftly sailing, cut the liquid road. 
 
 The host to expiate next the king prepares, 410 
 
 c 
 
18 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 With pure lustrations and with solemn pray'rs. 
 
 Wash'd by the briny ° wave, the pious train 
 
 Are cleans'd ; and cast th' ablutions in the main. 
 
 Along the shores whole hecatombs were laid, 
 
 And bulls and goats to Phoebus' altars paid. 415 
 
 The sable fumes in curling spires arise, 
 
 And waft their grateful odours to the slugs. 
 
 The army thus in sacred rites engag'd, 
 Atrides still with deep resentment rag'd. 
 To wait his will two sacred heralds stood^ 420 
 
 Talthybius ° and Eurybates ° the good. 
 " Haste to the fierce Achilles' tent," he cries, 
 " Thence bear Briseis as our royal prize : 
 Submit he m_ust ; or, if they will not part, 
 Ourself in arms shall tear her from his heart." 425 
 
 Th' unwilling heralds act their lord's commands ; 
 Pensive they walk along the barren sands : 
 Arriv'd, the hero in his tent they find, 
 With gloomy aspect, on his arm reclin'd. 
 At awful distance long they silent stand, 430 
 
 Loth to advance or speak their hard command ; 
 Decent confusion ! This the godlike man 
 Perceiv'd, and thus with accent mihl began : 
 
 " With leave and honour enter our abodes. 
 Ye sacred ministers of men and gods ! 433 
 
BOOK I 19 
 
 I kno\v your message; by constraint you came; 
 
 jSTot you, but your imperious lord, I blame. 
 
 Patroclus, baste, tiie fair Brise'is bring ; 
 
 Conduct my captive to the haughty king. 
 
 But witness, heralds, and proclaim my vow, 440 
 
 Witness to gods above and men below ! 
 
 But first and loudest to your prince declare, • 
 
 That lawless tyrant whose commands you bear; 
 
 Unmov'd as death Achilles shall remain, 
 
 Tho' prostrate Greece should bleed at ev'ry vein : 445 
 
 The raging chief in frantic passion lost. 
 
 Blind to himself, and useless to his host, 
 
 Unskill'd to judge the future by the past, 
 
 In blood and slaughter shall repent at last." 
 
 Patroclus now th' unwilling beauty brought; 450 
 She, in soft sorrows and in pensive thought, 
 Pass'd silent, as the heralds held her hand, 
 And oft look'd back, slow-moving o'er the strand. 
 
 Xot so his loss the fierce Achilles bore ; 
 But sad retiring to the sounding shore, 455 
 
 O'er the Avild margin of the deep he hung. 
 That kindred deep from whence his mother sprung ; 
 There, bath'd in tears of anger and disdain. 
 Thus loud lamented to the stormy main: 
 
 " parent ° goddess ! since in early bloom 460 
 
20 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Thy son must fall, by too severe° a doom ; 
 
 Sure, to so short a race of glory born, 
 
 Great Jove in justice should this span adorn. 
 
 Honour and fame at least the Thund'rer ow'd; 
 
 And ill he pays the promise of a god, 465 
 
 If yon proud monarch thus thy son defies, 
 
 Obscitres my glories, and resumes my prize." 
 
 Far in the deep recesses of the main, 
 Where aged ° Ocean holds his wat'ry reign, 
 The goddess-mother heard. The waves divide ; 470 
 And like a mist she rose above the tide ; 
 Beheld him mourning on the naked shores, 
 And thus the sorrows of his soul explores: 
 " Why grieves my son ? Thy anguish let me share, 
 Eeveal the cause, and trust a parent's care." 475 
 
 He, deeply sighing, said : '' To tell my woe 
 Is but to mention what too well you know. 
 From Thebe,° sacred to Apollo's name, 
 Eetion's° realm, our conqu'ring army came, 
 With treasure loaded and triumphant spoils, 480 
 
 Whose just division crown'd the soldier's toils; 
 But bright Chryseis, heav'nly prize ! was led 
 By vote selected to the gen'ral's bed. 
 The priest of Phoebus sought by gifts to gain 
 His beauteous daughter from the victor's chain; 485 
 
BOOK I 21 
 
 The fleet he reachxl, and, lowly bending down, 
 
 Held forth the sceptre and the laurel crown. 
 
 Entreating all ; but chief implor'd for grace 
 
 The brother-kings of Atreus' royal race. 
 
 The gen'rous Greeks their joint consent declare, 490 
 
 The priest to rev'rence, and release the fair. 
 
 Not so Atrides : he, with wonted pride, 
 
 The sire insulted, and his gifts denied : 
 
 Th' insulted sire (his god's peculiar care) 
 
 To Phoebus pray'd, and Pha?bus heard the pray'r : 495 
 
 A dreadful plague ensues ; th' avenging darts 
 
 Incessant fly, and pierce the Grecian hearts. 
 
 A prophet then, inspir'd by heav'n, arose, 
 
 And points the crime, and thence derives the woes : 
 
 Myself the first th' assembled chiefs incline 500 
 
 T' avert the vengeance of the pow'r divine ; 
 
 Then, rising in his wrath, the monarch storm'd ; 
 
 Incens'd he threaten'd, and his threats perform'd : 
 
 The fair Chryseis to her sire was sent. 
 
 With offer'd gifts to make the god relent ; 505 
 
 But now he seiz'd Briseis' heav'nly charms, 
 
 And of my valour's prize defrauds my arms. 
 
 Defrauds the votes of all the Grecian train ; 
 
 And service, faith, and justice plead in vain. 
 
 But, goddess ! thou thy suppliant son attend, 510 
 
22 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 To high Olympus' shining court ascend, 
 
 Urge all the ties to former service ow'd, 
 
 And sue for vengeance to the thund'ring god. 
 
 Oft hast thou triumph'd in the glorious boast 
 
 That° thou stood'st forth, of all tli' ethereal host, 515 
 
 When bold rebellion shook the realms above, 
 
 Th' undaunted guard of cloud-compelling Jove, 
 
 When the bright partner of his awful reign. 
 
 The warlike ° maid, and monarch ° of the main. 
 
 The traitor-gods, by mad ambition driv'n, 320 
 
 Durst threat with chains th' omnipotence of heav'n. 
 
 Then call'd by thee, the monster Titan came 
 
 (Whom gods Briareiis, men ^geon name) ; 
 
 Through ^vand'ring skies enormous stalk'd along, 
 
 Not he that shakes the solid earth so strong : 525 
 
 AVith giant-pride at Jove's high throne he stands, 
 
 And brandish'd round him all his hundred hands. 
 
 Th' affrighted gods confess'd their awful lord. 
 
 They dropp'd the fetters, trembled and ador'd. 
 
 This, goddess, this to his rememb'rance call, 53c 
 
 Embrace ° his knees, at his tribunal fall ; 
 
 Conjure him far to drive the Grecian train. 
 
 To hurl them headlong to their fleet and main. 
 
 To heap the shores with copious death, and bring 
 
 The Greeks to know the curse of such a king : 535 
 
BOOK I 23 
 
 Let Agamemnon lift his haughty head 
 
 O'er all his wide dominion of the dead, 
 
 And mourn in blood, that e'er he durst disgrace 
 
 The boldest warrior of the Grecian race. 'V^ 
 
 " Unhappy son ! " (fair Thetis thus replies, 540 
 
 While tears celestial trickle from her eyes) 
 '' Why have I borne thee with a mother's throes, 
 To fates averse, and nurs'd for future woes ? 
 So short a space the light of heav'n to view ! 
 So short a space I and filFd with sorrow, too ! 545 
 
 Oh, might a parent's careful wish prevail, 
 Far, far from Ilion should thy vessels sail, 
 And thou, from camps remote, the danger shun, 
 Which now, alas ! too nearly threats my son ; 
 Yet (what I can) to move thy suit I'll go 550 
 
 To great Olympus crown'd with fleecy snow. 
 Meantime, secure within thy ships, from far 
 Behold the field, nor mingle in the war. 
 The sire of gods and all th' ethereal train 
 On the warm ° limits of the farthest main, 555 
 
 Xow mix with mortals, nor disdain to grace 
 The feasts of .Ethiopia's ° blameless race : 
 Twelve days the pow'rs indulge the genial rite, 
 Returning with the twelfth revolving light. 
 Then will I mount the brazen dome, and move 560 
 
24 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 The high tribunal of immortal Jove." 
 
 The goddess spoke : the rolling waves unclose ; 
 Then down the deep she plung'd, from whence she 
 
 rose, 
 And left him sorrowing on the lonely coast, 
 In wild resentment for the fair he lost. 565 
 
 In Chrysa's port now sage Ulysses rode ; 
 Beneath the deck the destin'd victims stow'd ; 
 The sails they furl'd, they lash'd the mast aside, 
 And dropp'd their anchors, and the pinnace tied. 
 Next on the shore their hecatomb they land, 570 
 
 Chryseis last descending on the strand. 
 Her, thus returning from the furrow'd main, 
 Ulysses led to Phoebus' sacred fane ; 
 Where, at his solemn altar, as the maid 
 He gave to Chryses, thus the l^ero said : 575 
 
 " Hail, rev'rend priest ! to Phoebus' awful dome ° 
 A suppliant I from great Atrides come : 
 Unransom'd here receive the spotless fair ; 
 Accept the hecatomb the Greeks prepare ; ' 
 And may thy god, who scatters darts around, 58c 
 
 Aton'd by sacrifice, desist to wound." 
 
 At this the sire embrac'd the maid again. 
 So sadly lost, so lately sought in vain. 
 Then near the altar of the darting king, 
 
BOOK I 25 
 
 Dispos'd in rank tlieir hecatomb they bring : 585 
 
 "\yith° water purify their hands, and take 
 The sacred off'ring of the salted cake ; 
 While thus, with arms devoutly rais'd in air, 
 And solemn voice, the priest directs his pray'r : 
 
 " God of the silver bow, thy ear incline, 590 
 
 Whose pow'r encircles Cilia the divine ; 
 Whose sacred eye thy Tenedos surveys, 
 And gilds fair Chrysa with distinguish'd rays ! 
 If, fir'd to vengeance at thy priest's request, 
 Thy direful darts inflict the raging pest; 595 
 
 Once more attend ! avert the wasteful woe, 
 And smile propitious, and unbend thy bow." 
 
 So Chryses pray'd; Apollo heard his pray'r: 
 And now the Greeks their hecatomb prepare ; 
 Between their horns the salted barley threw, 600 
 
 And with their heads to heav'n the victims slew: 
 The limbs they sever from th' inclosing hide ; 
 The thighs, selected to the gods, divide : 
 On these, in double cauls involv'd with art, 
 The choicest morsels lay from ev'ry part. 605 
 
 The priest himself before his altar stands. 
 And burns the off'ring with his holy hands, 
 Pours the black wine, and sees the flame aspire; 
 The youths with instruments" surround the fire : 
 
26 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 The thighs thus sacrific'd, and entrails dress'd, 6io 
 
 Th' assistants part, transfix, and roast the rest: 
 
 Then spread the tables, the repast prepare, 
 
 Each takes his seat, and each receives his share. 
 
 When now the rage of hunger was repress'd, 
 
 With pure libations they conclude the feast; 615 
 
 The youths with wine the copious goblets crown'd, 
 
 And, pleas'd, dispense the flowing bowls around. 
 
 With hymns divine the joyous banquet ends. 
 
 The p3eans° lengthen'd till the sun descends : 
 
 The Greeks, restor'd, the grateful notes prolong : 62a 
 
 Apollo listens, and approves the song. 
 
 'Twas night; the chiefs beside their vessel lie, 
 Till rosy morn had purpled o'er the sky : 
 Then launch, and hoise the mast; indulgent gales. 
 Supplied by Phoebus, fill the swelling sails; 625 
 
 The milk-white canvas bellying as they blow, 
 The parted ocean foams and roars below: 
 Above the bounding billows swift they flew. 
 Till now the Grecian camp appear'd in view. 
 Far on the beach tlipy hauF their bark to land 630 
 
 (The crooked keel divides the yellow sand), 
 Then part, where, stretch'd along the winding bay. 
 The ships and tents in mingled prospect lay. 
 
 But, raging still, amidst his navy sate 
 
BOOK I 27 
 
 The stern Achilles, steadfast in his hate; 635 
 
 Xor mix'd in combat nor in council join'd ; 
 But wasting cares lay heavy on his mind; 
 In his black thoughts revenge and slaughter roll, 
 And scenes of blood rise dreadful in his soul. 639 
 
 Twelve days were past, and now the dawning light 
 The gods had summon'd to th' Olympian height : 
 Jove, first ascending from the wat'ry bow'rs. 
 Leads the long order of ethereal pow'rs. 
 When, like the morning mist, in early day, 
 Rose from the flood the daughter of the sea; 645 
 
 And to the seats divine her flight address'd. 
 There, far apart, and high above the rest. 
 The Thund'rer sate ; where old Olympus shrouds 
 His hundred heads in heav'n and props the clouds. 
 Suppliant the goddess stood: one hand she plac'd 650 
 Beneath his beard, and one his knees embrac'd. 
 " If e'er, father of the gods ! " she said, 
 " My words could please thee, or my actions aid ; 
 Some marks of honour on my son bestow. 
 And pay in glory what in life you owe. 655 
 
 Fame is at least by heav'nly promise due 
 To life so short, and now dishonour'd, too. 
 Avenge this wrong, ever just and wise ! 
 Let Greece be humbled, and the Trojans rise; 
 
28 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Till the proud king, and all th.' Achaian race, 66a 
 
 Shall heax) with honours him they now disgrace." 
 
 Thus Thetis sjjoke, but Jove in silence held 
 The sacred councils of his breast conceal'd. 
 Not so repuls'd, the goddess closer press'd, 
 Still grasp'd his knees, and urg'd the dear request. 665 
 " sire of gods and men ! thy suppliant hear ; 
 Eefuse, or grant ; for what has Jove to fear ? 
 Or, oh ! declare, of all the pow'rs above. 
 Is wretched Thetis least the care of Jove ? " 
 
 She said, and sighing thus the god replies, 670 
 
 Who rolls the thunder o'er the vaulted skies : 
 
 " What hast thou ask'd ? Ah ! why should Jove 
 engage 
 In foreign contests and domestic rage, 
 The gods' complaints, and Juno's fierce alarms, 
 While I, too partial, aid the Trojan arms ? 675 
 
 Go, lest the haughty partner of my sway 
 With jealous eyes thy close access survey ; 
 But part in peace, secure thy pray'r is sped: 
 Witness the sacred honours of our head, 
 The nod that ratifies the will divine, 680 
 
 The faithful, fix'd, irrevocable sign ; 
 This seals thy suit, and this fulfils thy vows " — 
 He° spoke, and awful bends his sable brows, 
 
BOOK I 29 
 
 Shakes his ambrosial curls, and gives the nod, 
 The stamp of fate, the sanction of the god : 685 
 
 High heav'n with trembling the dread signal^took, 
 And all Olympus to the centre shookj^r'''" 
 
 Swift to the seas profound the goddess flies, 
 Jove to his starry mansion in the skies. 
 The shining synod of th' immortals wait 690 
 
 The coming god, and from their thrones of state 
 Arising silent, rapt in holy fear. 
 Before the majesty of heav'n appear. 
 Trembling they stand, while Jove assumes the throne. 
 All but the god's imperious queen alone : 695 
 
 Late had she view'd the silver-footed dame, 
 And all her passions kindled into flame. 
 " Say, artful manager of heav'n " (she cries), 
 " Who now partakes the secrets of the skies ? 
 Thy Juno knows not the decrees of fate, 700 
 
 In vain the partner of imperial state. 
 What fav'rite goddess then those cares divides, 
 Which Jove in prudence from his consort hides ? '^ 
 
 To this the Thund'rer : '• Seek not thou to find 
 The sacred counsels of almighty mind : 705 
 
 Involv'd in darkness lies the great decree, 
 Nor can the depths of fate be pierc'd by thee. 
 What fits thy knowledge, thou the first shalt know : 
 
30 POPE\S ILIAD 
 
 The first of gods above and men below ; 
 
 But thou nor they shall search the thoughts that roll 710 
 
 Deep in the close recesses of my soul." 
 
 Eull on the sire, the goddess of the skies 
 Eoll'd the large orbs of her majestic eyes, 
 And thus return'd : " Austere Saturnius,° say, 
 From whence this wrath, or who controls thy sway ? 715 
 Thy boundless will, for me, remains in force, 
 And all thy counsels take the destin'd course : 
 But 'tis for Greece I fear : for late was seen 
 In close consult^ the silver-footed queen. 
 Jove to his Thetis nothing could deny, 720 
 
 Nor was the signal vain that shook the sky. 
 What fatal favour has the goddess won, 
 To grace her fierce inexorable son ? 
 Perhaps in Grecian blood to drench the plain. 
 And glut his vengeance with my people slain." 725 
 
 Then thus the god : " Oh, restless fate of pride. 
 That strives to learn what heav'n resolves to hide ! 
 Vain is the search, presumptuous and abhorr'd. 
 Anxious to thee and odious to thy lord. 
 Let this suffice ; th' immutable decree 730 
 
 No force can shake : what° is that ouglit to be. 
 Goddess, submit, nor dare our will withstand. 
 But dread the pow'r of this avenging hand ; 
 
BOOK I ^1 
 
 Th' united strength of all the gods above 
 
 In vain resists th' omnipotence of Jove." 735 
 
 The° Thund'rer spoke, nor durst the queen reply ; 
 A rev'rend horror silenc'd all the sky. 
 The feast disturb'd, with sorrow Yulcan saw 
 His mother menac'd, and the gods in awe ; 
 Peace at his heart, and pleasure his design, 740 
 
 Thus interpos'd the architect° divine : 
 " The wretched quarrels of the mortal state 
 Are far unworthy, gods ! of your debate : 
 Let men their days in senseless strife employ ; 
 We, in eternal peace and constant joy. 745 
 
 Thou, goddess-mother, with our sire comply, 
 Nor break the sacred union of the sky : 
 
 Lest, rous'd to rage, he shake the blest abodes, 
 
 Launch the red lightning, and dethrone the gods. 
 
 If you submit, the Thund'rer stands appeas'd. 750 
 
 The gracious pow'r is willing to be pleas'd." 
 Thus Vulcan spoke ; and, rising with a bound. 
 
 The double bowl with sparkling nectar crown' d, 
 
 Which held to Juno in a cheerful way, 
 
 " Goddess," he cried, " be patient and obey. 755 
 
 Dear as you are, if Jove his arm extend, 
 
 I can but grieve, unable to defend. 
 
 What god so daring in your aid to move, 
 
32 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Or lift his hand against the force of Jove ? 
 
 Once in your cause I ° felt his matchless might, 760 
 
 Hurl'd headlong downward from th' ethereal height ; 
 
 Toss'd all the day in rapid circles round ; 
 
 Nor, till the sun descended, touch'd the ground : 
 
 Breathless I fell, in giddy motion lost; 
 
 The Sinthians ° rais'd me on the Lemnian coast." 765 
 
 He said, and to her hands the goblet heav'd, 
 Which, with a smile, the white-arm'd queen receiv'd. 
 Then to the rest he fill'd ; and, in his turn, 
 Each to his lips applied the nectar'd urn. 
 Vulcan with awkward grace his office plies, 770 
 
 And unextinguish'd ° laughter shakes the skies. 
 
 Thus the blest gods the genial day prolong, 
 In feasts ambrosial and celestial song. 
 Apollo tun'd the lyre ; the muses round 
 With voice alternate aid the silver sound. 775 
 
 Meantime the radiant sun, to mortal sight 
 Descending swift, roll'd down the rapid light. 
 Then to their starry domes the gods depart. 
 The shining monuments of Vulcan's art : 
 Jove on his couch reclin'd his awful head, 780 
 
 And Juno slumber'd on the golden bed. 
 
BOOK VI 
 
 THE EPISODES OF GLAUCUS AND DIOMED, AND 
 OF HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE 
 
 Now lieav'ii forsakes the fight ; th' immortals yield 
 To human force and human skill the field : 
 Dark show'rs of jav'lins fly from foes to foes ; 
 Now here, now there, the tide of combat flows ; 
 While Troy's fam'd streams, that bound the deathful 
 plain, 5 
 
 On either side run purple to the main. 
 
 Great Ajax ° first to conquest led the way, 
 Broke the thick ranks, and turn'd the doubtful day. 
 The Thracian Acamas his falchion° found, 
 And hew'd th' enormous giant to the ground ; lo 
 
 His thund'ring arm a deadly stroke impress'd 
 Where the black horse-hair nodded o'er his crest : 
 Fix'd in his front the brazen weapon lies, 
 And seals in endless shades his swimming eyes. 14 
 
 Next Teuthras' son distain'd the sands with blood, 
 Axylus,° hospitable, rich, and good : 
 In fair Arisbe's walls (his native place) 
 D 33 
 
34 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 He held his seat ; a friend to human race. 
 
 Fast by the road, his ever-open door 
 
 Oblig'd the wealthy, and reliev'd the poor. 20 
 
 To stern Tydides now he falls a prey, 
 
 No friend to guard him in the dreadful day ! 
 
 Breathless the good man fell, and by his side 
 
 His faithfuF servant, old Calesius, died. 
 
 By great Euryalus was Dresus slain, 25 
 
 And next he laid Opheltius on the plain. 
 Two twins were near, bold, beautiful, and young, 
 From a fair Naiad ° and Bucolion sprung 
 (Laomedon's white flocks Bucolion fed, 
 That monarch's first-born by a foreign bed ; 30 
 
 In secret woods he won the Naiad's grace. 
 And two fair infants crown'd his strong embrace) : 
 Here dead they lay in all their youthful charms ; 
 The ruthless victor stripp'd their shining arms. 
 
 Astyalus by Polypoetes fell ; 35 
 
 Ulysses' spear Pidytes sent to hell ° ; 
 By Teucer's ° shaft brave Aretaon bled. 
 And Nestor's° son laid stern Ablerus dead ; 
 Great Agamemnon, leader of the brave. 
 The mortal wound of rich Elatus gave, 40 
 
 Who held in Pedasus° his proud abode, 
 And tJll'd the banks where silver Satnio flow'd. 
 
BOOK VI 35 
 
 Melanthius by Eurypylus was slain ; 
 And Phylacus from Leitus flies in vain. 
 
 Unbless'd Adrastus next at mercy lies 45 
 
 Beneath tlie Spartan° spear, a living prize. 
 Scar'd witli the din and tumult of the light, 
 His headlong steeds, precipitate in flight, 
 E-ush'd on a tamarisk's ° strong trunk, and broke 
 The shatter'd chariot from the crooked yoke : 50 
 
 Wide o'er the field, resistless as the wind, 
 For Troy they fly, and leave their lord behind. 
 Prone on his face he sinks beside the wheel : 
 Atrides o'er him shakes his vengeful steel ; 
 The fallen chief in suppliant posture press'd 55 
 
 The victor's knees, and thus his prayer address'd : 
 
 " Oh, spare my youth, and for the life I owe 
 Large gifts of price my father shall bestow : 
 When fame shall tell that, not in battle slain, 
 Thy hollow ships his captive son detain, 60 
 
 Eich heaps of brass shall in thy tent be told,° 
 And steel well-temper 'd, and persuasive gold." 
 
 He said : compassion touch'd the hero's heart 
 He stood suspended with the lifted dart : 
 As pity pleaded for his vanquish'd prize, 65 
 
 Stern Agamemnon swift to vengeance flies, 
 And furious thus : '• impotent of mind ! 
 
36 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Shall these, shall these Atrides' mercy find ? 
 
 Well hast thou known proud Troy's perfidious land, 
 
 And well her natives merit at thy hand ! 70 
 
 Not one of all the race, nor sex, nor age, 
 
 Shall save a Trojan from our boundless rage: 
 
 Ilion shall perish w^hole, and bury all ; 
 
 Her babes, her infants at the breast, shall fall, 
 
 A dreadful lesson of exampled fate, 75 
 
 To warn the nations, and to curb the great." 
 
 The monarch spoke; the "words, wdth warmth ad- 
 dress'd. 
 To rigid justice steel'd his brother's breast. 
 Pierce from his knees the hapless chief he thrust ; 
 The monarch's jav'lin stretch'd° him in the dust. 80 
 Then, pressing with his foot his panting heart, 
 Forth from the slain he tugg'd the reeking dart. 
 Old Nestor saw, and rous'd the warriors' rage ! 
 " Thus, heroes ! thus the vig'rous combat wage ! 
 No son of Mars descend, for sprvile gains, 85 
 
 To touch the booty, while a foe remains. 
 Behold yon glitt'ring host, your future° spoil ! 
 First gain the conquest, then reward the toil." 
 
 And now had Greece eternal fame acquir'd, 
 And frighted Troy within her walls retir'd ; 90 
 
 Had not sage Helenus° her state redress'd, 
 
BOOK VI 37 
 
 Taught by the gods that niov'd his sacred breast : 
 Where Hector stood, with great ^neas join'd, 
 The seer reveaPd the counsels of his mind : 
 
 "Ye gen'rous chiefs ! on whom th' immortals lay 95 
 The cares and glories of this doubtful day, 
 On whom your aids, your country's hopes depend, 
 Wise to consult, and active to defend ! 
 Here, at our gates, your brave efforts unite. 
 Turn back the routed, and forbid the flight; 100 
 
 Ere yet their wives' soft arms the cowards gain, 
 The sport and insult of the hostile train. 
 When your commands have hearten'd every band, 
 Ourselves, here fix'd, will make the dang'rous stand ; 
 Press'd as we are, and sore of former fight, 105 
 
 These straits demand our last remains of might. 
 Meanwhile, thou. Hector, to the town retire, 
 And teach our mother° what the gods require : 
 Direct the queen to lead th' assembled train 
 Of Troy's chief matrons to Minerva's fane ; no 
 
 Unbar the sacred gates, and seek the pow'r 
 With offer'd vows, in Ilion's topmost tow'r. 
 The largest mantle her rich wardrobes hold. 
 Most priz'd for art, and labour 'd o'er with gold, 
 Before the goddess' honour'd knees be spread; 115 
 
 And twelve young heifers to her altars led. 
 
38 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 If SO the pow'r aton'd by fervent pray'r, 
 
 Our wiveSj our infants, and our city spare, 
 
 And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire, 
 
 That mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire. 120 
 
 Not thus Achilles taught our hosts to dread, 
 
 Sprung tho' he was from more than mortal bed ; 
 
 Not thus resistless rul'd the stream of fight. 
 
 In rage unbounded, and unmatch'd in might." 
 
 Hector obedient heard; and, with a bound, 125 
 
 Leap'd from his trembling chariot to the ground ; 
 Thro' all his host, inspiring force, he flies. 
 And bids the thunder of the battle rise. 
 With rage recruited the bold Trojans glow. 
 And turn the tide of conflict on the foe : 130 
 
 Fierce in the front he shakes two dazzling spears ; 
 All Greece recedes, and midst her triumph fears : 
 Some god, they thought, who rul'd the fate of wars. 
 Shot down avenging, from the vault of stars. 
 
 Then thus, aloud : " Ye dauntless Dardans, hear ! 135 
 And you whom distant nations send to war ; 
 Be mindful of the strength your fathers bore ; 
 Be still yourselves and Hector asks no more. 
 One hour demands me in the Trojan wall. 
 To bid our altars flame, and victims fall : 140 
 
 Nor shall, I trust, the matrons' holy train 
 
BOOK VI 39 
 
 And rev'rend elders seek the gods in vain." 
 
 This said, with ample strides the hero pass'd ; 
 The shield's" large orb behind his shoulder cast, 
 His neck o'ershading, to his ancle hung ; 145 
 
 And as he march'd the brazen buckler rung. 
 
 Xow paus'd the battle (godlike Hector gone). 
 When daring Glaucus° and great Tydeus' son 
 Between both armies met ; the chiefs from far 
 Observ'd each other, and had mark'd° for war. 150 
 
 Xear as they drew, Tydides thus began : 
 
 '^ What art thou, boldest of the race of man ? 
 Our eyes, till now, that aspect ne'er beheld, 
 Where fame is reap'd amid th' embattl'd field ; 
 Yet far before the troops thou "dar'st appear, 155 
 
 And meet a lance the fiercest heroes fea^/- 
 cTnhappy they, and born of luckless sires/ 
 Who tempt our fury when Minerva fires ! 
 But if from heav'n, celestial thou descend, 
 Know, with immortals we no more contend. 160 
 
 Xot long Lycurgus° view'd the golden light, 
 That daring man who mix'd with gods in fight ; 
 Bacchus, and Bacchus' votaries, he drove 
 With brandish'd steel from Nyssa's sacred grove ; 
 Their consecrated spears lay scatter'd round, 165 
 
 With curling vines and twisted ivy bound ; 
 
40 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 While Bacchus headlong sought the briny flood, 
 And Thetis' arms receiv'd the trembling god. 
 Nor fail'd the crime th' immortals' wrath to move 
 (Th' immortals bless'd with endless ease above) ; 170 
 Depriv'd of sight, by their avenging doom, 
 Cheerless he breath'd, and wander'd in the gloom : 
 Then sunk unpitied to the dire abodes, 
 A wretch accurs'd, and hated by the gods ! 
 I brave not heav'n ; but if the fruits of earth 175 
 
 Sustain thy life, and human be thy birth, 
 Bold as thou art, too prodigal of breath. 
 Approach, and enter the dark gates of death." 
 
 "What, or from whence I am, or who my sire," 
 Replied the chief, " can Tydeus' son enquire ? 180 
 
 Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, 
 Now green in youth, now with'ring on the ground : 
 Another race the following spring supplies. 
 They fall successive, and successive rise ; 
 So generations in their course decay, 185 
 
 So flourish these, when those are pass'd away. 
 But if thou still persist to search my birth, " 
 
 Then hear a tale that fills the spacious earth: 
 
 " A city stands on Argos' utmost bound 
 ( Argos the fair, for warlike steeds renown'd) ; 190 
 
 iEolian"" Sisyphus, with wisdom bless'd, 
 
BOOK ri 41 
 
 In ancient time the happy walls possess'd, 
 
 Then called Ephyre°: Glaucus was his sou; 
 
 Great Glaucus, father of Bellerophon, 
 
 Who o'er the sous of men in beauty shiu'd, 195 
 
 Lov'd for that valour which preserves mankind. 
 
 Then mighty Proetus Argos' sceptre sway'd, 
 
 Whose hard commands Bellerophon obey'd. 
 
 With direful jealousy the monarch rag'd, 
 
 And the brave prince in num'rous toils engag'd. 200 
 
 For him, Antea° burn'd with lawless flame, 
 
 And strove to tempt him from the paths of fame : 
 
 In vain she tempted the relentless youth, 
 
 Endu'd with wisdom, sacred fear, and truth. 
 
 Fir'd at his scorn, the queen to Proetus fled, 205 
 
 And begg'd revenge for her insulted bed : 
 
 Incens'd he heard, resolving on his fate ; 
 
 But hospitable^ laws restrain'd his hate : 
 
 To Lycia the devoted youth he sent, 
 
 With tablets" seal'd, that told his dire intent. 210 
 
 Now, bless'd by ev'ry pow'r who guards the good, 
 
 The chief arriv'd at Xanthus' silver flood : 
 
 There Lycia's monarch paid him honours due : 
 
 Nine days he feasted, and nine bulls he slew. 
 
 But° when the tenth bright morning orient glow'd, 215 
 
 The faithful youth his monarch's mandate show'd : 
 
42 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 The fatal tablets, till that instant seal'd, 
 
 The deathful secret to the king reveal'd. 
 
 Pirst, dire Chimsera's" conquest was enjoin'd ; 
 
 A mingled monster, of no mortal kind ; 220 
 
 Behind, a dragon's fiery tail was spread; 
 
 A goat's rough body bore a lion's head ; 
 
 Her pitchy nostrils flaky flames expire ; 
 
 Her gaping throat emits infernal fire. 
 
 " This pest he slaughter'd (for he read the skies, 225 
 And trusted heav'n's informing prodigies") ; 
 Then met in arms the Solyma3an° crew 
 (Fiercest of men), and those the warrior slew. 
 Next the bold Amazons'° whole force defied; 
 ■ And conquer'd still, for heav'n was on his side. 230 
 
 ^' Nor ended here his toils : his Lycian foes, 
 At his return, a treach'rous ambush rose. 
 With levell'd spears along the winding shore : 
 There fell they breathless, and return'd no more. 
 
 " At length the monarch with repentant grief 235 
 Confess'd the gods, and god-descended chief; 
 His daughter gave, the stranger to detain, 
 With half the honours of his ample reign. 
 The Lycians grant a chosen space of ground, 
 With woods, with vineyards, and with harvests crown'd. 
 There long the chief his happy lot possess'd, 24J 
 
BOOK VI 43 
 
 With two brave soiis° and one fair daughter^ bless'd 
 
 (Fair ev'n in heav'nly eyes ; her fruitful love 
 
 Crown'd with Sarpedon's birth th' embrace of Jove). 
 
 But when at last, distracted in his mind, 245 
 
 Forsook by heav'n. forsaking human kind, 
 
 Wide o'er th' Aleian° field he chose to stray, 
 
 A long, forlorn, uncomfortable way ! 
 
 Woes heap'd on woes consum'd his wasted heart; 
 
 His beauteous daughter fell by Phoebe's° dart ; 250 
 
 His eldest-born° by raging Mars was slain 
 
 In combat on the Solymnean plain. 
 
 Hippolochus surviv'd ; from him I came, 
 
 The honour'd author of my birth and name; 
 
 By his decree I sought the Trojan town, 255 
 
 By his instructions learn to win renown ; 
 
 To stand the first in w^orth as in command, 
 
 To add new honours to my native land ; 
 
 Before my eyes my mighty sires to place. 
 
 And emulate the glories of our race." 260 
 
 He spoke, and transport fill'd Tydides' heart ; 
 In earth the gen'rous warrior fix'd his dart. 
 Then friendly, thus, the Lycian prince address'd : 
 " Welcome, my brave hereditary guest ! 
 Thus ever let us meet with kind embrace, 265 
 
 Nor stain the sacred friendship of our race. 
 
44 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Know, chief, our graiidsires have been guests of old, 
 
 G^neus the strong, Bellerophon the bold ; 
 
 Our ancient seat his honour'd presence grac'd. 
 
 Where twenty days in genial rites he pass'd. 270 
 
 The parting heroes mutual presents left ; 
 
 A golden goblet was thy grandsire's gift; 
 
 (Eneus a belt of matchless work bestow'd, 
 
 That rich with Tyrian° dye refulgent glow'd 
 
 (This from his pledge I learn'd, which, safely stor'd 275 
 
 Among my treasures, still adorns my board : 
 
 For Tydeus° left me young, when Thebe's wall 
 
 Beheld the sons of Greece untimely fall). 
 
 Mindful of this, in friendship let us join ; 
 
 If heav'n our steps to foreign lands incline, 280 
 
 My guest in Argos thou, and I in Lycia thine. 
 
 Enough of Trojans to this lance shall yield, 
 
 In the full harvest of yon ample field; 
 
 Enough of Greeks shall dye thy spear with gore ; 
 
 But thou and Diomed be foes no more. 285 
 
 Now change we arms, and prove to either host 
 
 We guard the friendship of the line we boast." 
 
 Thus having said, the gallant chiefs alight. 
 Their hands they join, their mutual faith they plight; 
 Brave Glaucus° then each narrow thought resign'd 290 
 (Jove warm'd his bosom and-enlarg'd his mind); 
 
BOOK VI 45 
 
 For Diomed's brass arms, of mean device, 
 
 For which nine oxen paid (a vulgar price). 
 
 He gave his own, of gold divinely w^rought; 
 
 A hundred beeves tlie shining purchase bought. 295 
 
 Meantime the guardian of the Trojan state, 
 Great Hector, enter'd at the Sc8ean° gate. 
 Beneath the beech-trees'° consecrated shades. 
 The Trojan matrons and the Trojan maids 
 Around him flock'd, all press'd with pious care 300 
 
 For husbands, brothers, sons, engag'd in war. 
 He bids the train in long procession go, 
 And seek the gods, t' avert th' impending woe. 
 And now to Priam's stately courts he came, 
 Kais'd on arch'd columns of stupendous frame ; 305 
 O'er these a range of marble structure runs ; 
 The rich pavilions of his fifty sons, 
 In fifty chambers lodged : and rooms of state 
 Oppos'd to those, w^iere Priam's daughters sate : 
 Twelve domes for them and their lov'd spouses shone, 
 Of equal beauty, and of polish'd stone. 311 
 
 Hither great Hector pass'd, nor pass'd unseen 
 Of royal Hecuba, his mother queen 
 (With her Laodice,° whose beauteous face 
 Surpass'd the nymphs of Troy's illustrious race). 315 
 Long in a strict embrace she held her son, 
 
46 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 And press'd his hand, and tender thus begun : 
 " Hector 1° say, what great occasion calls 
 My son from fight, when Greece surrounds our walls ? 
 Com'st thou to supplicate th' almighty pow'r, 320 
 
 With lifted hands from Ilion's lofty tow'r? 
 Stay, till I bring the cup with Bacchus crown'd, 
 In Jove's high name, to sprinkle on the ground. 
 And pay due vows to all the gods around. 
 Then with a plenteous draught refresh thy soul, 325 
 And draw new spirits from the gen'rous bowl ; 
 Spent as thou art with long laborious fight, 
 The brave defender of thy country's right." 
 
 "Tar" hence be Bacchus' gifts," the chief rejoin'd; 
 '' Inflaming w^ine, pernicious to mankind, 330 
 
 Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble mind. 
 Let chiefs abstain, and spare the sacred juice 
 To sprinkle to the gods, its better use. 
 By me that holy office were profan'd; 
 111 fits it me, with human gore distain'd, 335 
 
 To the pure skies these horrid hands to raise. 
 Or offer heav'n's great sire polluted praise. 
 You, with your matrons, go, a spotless train ! 
 And burn rich odours in Minerva's fane. 
 The largest mantle your full wardrobes hold, 340 
 
 Most priz'd for art, and labour'd o'er with gold, 
 
BOOK VI 47 
 
 Before the goddess' honour'd knees be spread, 
 And twelve young heifers to her altar led. 
 So may the pow'r, aton'd by fervent pray'r, 
 Our wives, our infants, and our city spare, 345 
 
 And far avert Tydides' wasteful ire, 
 Who mows whole troops, and makes all Troy retire. 
 Be this, O mother, your religious care; 
 I go to rouse soft Paris to the war; 
 If yet, not lost to all the sense of shame, 350 
 
 The recreant warrior hear the voice of fame. 
 Oh would kind earth the hateful wretch embrace, 
 That pest of Troy, that ruin of our race ! 
 Deep to the dark abyss might he descend, 
 Troy yet should flourish, and my sorrows end." 335 
 This heard, she gave command; and summon'd came 
 Each noble matron and illustrious dame. 
 The Phrygian queen to her rich wardrobe went. 
 Where treasur'd odours breath'd a costly scent. 
 There lay the vestures of no vulgar art, 360 
 
 Sidonian maids embroider'd ev'ry part, 
 Whom from soft Sidon° youthful Paris bore, 
 With Helen touching on the Tyrian shore. 
 Here as the queen revolv'd with careful eyes 
 The various textures and the various dyes, 365 
 
 She chose a veil that shone superior far, 
 
48 pope's ILIAD 
 
 And glow'd refulgent as the morning star. 
 
 Herself with this the long procession leads ; 
 
 The train majestically slow proceeds. 
 
 Soon as to Ilion's topmost tow'r they come, 370 
 
 And awful reach the high Palladian° dome, 
 
 Antenor's consort, fair Theano,° waits 
 
 As Pallas' priestess, and unbars the gates. 
 
 With hands uplifted, and imploring eyes, 
 
 They fill the dome with supplicating cries. 375 
 
 The priestess then the shining veil displays, 
 
 Plac'd on Minerva's knees, and thus she prays: 
 
 " awful goddess ! ever-dreadful maid, 
 Troy's strong defence, unconquer'd Pallas, aid! 
 Break thou Tydides' spear, and let him fall 380 
 
 Prone on the dust before the Trojan wall. 
 So twelve young heifers, guiltless of the yoke, 
 Shall fill thy temple with a grateful smoke. 
 But thou, aton'd by penitence and pray'r. 
 Ourselves, our infants, and our city spare! " 385 
 
 So pray'd the priestess in her holy fane ; 
 So vow'd the matrons, but they vow'd in vain. 
 
 While these appear before the pow'r with pray'rs. 
 Hector to Paris' lofty dome repairs. 
 Himself the mansion rais'd, from ev'ry part 390 
 
 Assembling architects of matchless art. 
 
BOOK VI 49 
 
 Near Priam's court and Hector's palace stands 
 The pompous structure, and the town commands. 
 A spear the hero bore of wond'rous strength, 
 Of full ten° cubits was the lance's length ; 395 
 
 The steely point with golden ringlets" join'd, 
 Before him brandish'd, at each motion shin'd. 
 Thus ent'ring, in the glitt'ring rooms he found 
 His brother-chief, whose useless" arms lay round, 
 His eyes delighting with their splendid show, 400 
 
 Brightening the shield, and polishing the bow. 
 Beside him Helen with her virgins stands, 
 Guides their rich labours, and instructs" their hands. 
 
 Him thus unactive, with an ardent look 
 The prince beheld, and high-resenting spoke: 405 
 
 ^' Thy hate to Troy is this the time to show 
 (0 wretch ill-fated, and thy country's foe) ? 
 Paris and Greece against us both conspire. 
 Thy close resentment, and their vengeful ire; 
 For thee great Ilion's guardian heroes fall, 410 
 
 Till heaps of dead alone defend her wall ; 
 Por thee the soldier bleeds, the matron mourns, 
 And wasteful war in all its fury burns. 
 Ungrateful man! deserves not this thy care, 
 Our troops to hearten, and our toils to share ? 415 
 
 Rise, or behold the conqu'ring flames ascend, 
 
50 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 And all the Phrygian glories at an end." 
 
 "Brother, 'tis just," replied the beauteous youth, 
 " Thy free remonstrance proves thy Avorth and truth: 
 Yet charge my absence less, gen'rous chief ! 420 
 
 On hate to Troy, than conscious shame and grief. 
 Here, hid from human eyes, thy brother sate. 
 And mourn'd in secret his and Ilion's fate. 
 'Tis now enough : now glory spreads her charms, 
 And beauteous Helen calls her chief to arms. 425 
 
 Conque? ■ to-day my happier sword may bless, 
 'Tis man's to fight, but heav'n's to give success. 
 But while I arm, contain thy ardent mind ; 
 Or go, and Paris shall not lag behind." 
 
 He said, nor answer'd Priam's warlike son ; 430 
 
 When Helen thus with lowly grace begun : 
 " O gen'rous brother ! if the guilty dame 
 That caus'd these woes deserve a sister's name ! 
 Would heav'n, ere all these dreadful deeds were done, 
 The day that show'd me to the golden sun 435 
 
 Had seen my death ! Why did not whirlwinds bear 
 The fatal infant to the fowls of air ? 
 Why sunk I not beneath the Avhelming tide. 
 And midst the roarings of the waters died ? 
 Heav'n fill'd up all my ills, and I accurs'd 44° 
 
 Bore all, and Paris of those ills the worst. 
 
BOOK VI 61 
 
 Helen at least a braver spouse might claim, 
 Warm'd. with some virtue, some regard of fame ! 
 Mow, tir'd with toils, thy fainting limbs recline, 
 With toils sustain'd for Paris' sake and mine : 445 
 
 The gods have link'd our miserable doom. 
 Our present woe and infamy to come : 
 Wide shall it spread, and last thro' ages long. 
 Example sad ! and theme of future song." 
 
 The chief replied: "This time forbids to rest : 450 
 The Trojan bands, by hostile fury press'd, 
 Demand their Hector, and his arm require ; 
 The combat urges, and my soul's on fire. 
 Urge thou thy knight to march where glory calls. 
 And timely join me, ere I leave the walls. 455 
 
 Ere yet I mingle in the direful fray, 
 My wife, my infant, claim a moment's stay : 
 This day (perhaps the last that sees me here) 
 Demands a parting word, a tender tear : 
 This day some god, who hates our Trojan land, 460 
 May vanquish Hector by a Grecian hand?'"'^ 
 
 He said, and pass'd with sad-presaging heart, 
 To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part ; 
 At home he sought her, but he sought in vain : 
 She, with one maid of all her menial train, 465 
 
 Had thence retir'd; and with her second° joy, 
 
52 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 The young Astyanax,° the hope of Troy, 
 
 Pensive she stood on I lion's tow'ry height, 
 
 Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight ; 
 
 There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore, 470 
 
 Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore. 
 
 But he who found not whom his soul desir'd, 
 Whose virtue charm'd him as her beauty fir'd, 
 Stood in the gates, and ask'd what way she bent 
 Her parting step ; if to the fane she went, 475 
 
 AVhere late the mourning matrons made resort ; 
 Or sought her sisters in the Trojan court. 
 '' Not to the court," replied th' attendant train, 
 '' Nor, mix'd with matrons, to Minerva's fane : 
 To llion's steepy tow'r she bent her way, 480 
 
 To mark the fortunes of the doubtful day. 
 Troy fled, she heard, before the Grecian sword : 
 She heard, and trembled for her distant lord; 
 Distracted with surprise, she seem'd to fly. 
 Fear on her cheek, and sorrow in her eye. 485 
 
 The nurse attended with her infant boy, 
 The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy." 
 
 Hector, this heard, return'd without delay ; 
 Swift thro' the town he trod his former way, 
 Thro' streets of palaces and walks of state ; 490 
 
 And^ met the mourner at the Scaean gate. 
 
BOOK vr 
 
 53 
 
 With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair, 
 
 His blameless wife, Eetion's wealthy heir 
 
 (Cilician Thebe great Eetion sway'd. 
 
 And Hippoplacus' wide-extended shade) : 495 
 
 The nurse stood near, in whose embraces press'd, 
 
 His only hope hung smiling at her breast, 
 
 Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn, 
 
 Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn. 
 
 To this iQv'd infant Hector gave the name 50° 
 
 Scamandrius, from Scamander's honour'd stream: 
 
 Astyanax the Trojans call'd the boy, 
 
 Erom his great father, the defence of Troy. 
 
 Silent the warrior smil'd, and, pleas'd, resign'd 
 
 To tender passions all his mighty mind : 505 
 
 His beauteous princess cast a mournful look, 
 
 Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke ; 
 
 Her bosom labour'd Avith a boding sigh, 
 
 And the big tear stood trembling in her eye. 
 
 " Too daring prince ! ah whither dost thou run ? 510 
 
 Ah too forgetful of thy wife and son ! 
 
 And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be, 
 
 A widow I, a helpless orphan he ! 
 
 Eor sure such courage length of life denies, 
 
 And thou must fall, thy virtue's sacrifice. 5»5 
 
 Greece in her single heroes strove in vainj 
 
54 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain ! 
 
 Oh grant me, gods ! ere Hector meets his doom, 
 
 All I can ask of heav'n, an early tomb ! 
 
 So shall my days in one sad tenour run, 520 
 
 And end with sorrows as they first begun. 
 
 No parent now remains, my griefs to share. 
 
 No father's aid, no mother's tender care. 
 
 The fierce Achilles wrapt° our walls in fire, 
 
 Laid Thebe waste, and slew my warlike sire ! 525 
 
 His fate compassion in the victor bred; 
 
 Stern as he was, he yet rever'd the dead, 
 
 His radiant arms preserv'd from hostile spoil. 
 
 And laid him decent on the fun'ral pile ; 
 
 Then rais'd a mountain where his bones were burn'd ; 530 
 
 The mountain nymphs the rural tomb adorn'd ; 
 
 Jove's sylvan daughters bade their elms bestow 
 
 A barren shade, and in his honour grow. 
 
 " By the same arm my sev'n brave brothers fell ; 
 In one sad day beheld the gates of hell ; 535 
 
 While the fat herds and snowy flocks they fed. 
 Amid their fields the hapless heroes bled ! 
 My mother liv'd to bear the victor's bands, 
 The queen of Hippoplacia's° sylvan lands : 
 Redeem'd too late, she scarce beheld again 540 
 
 Her pleasing empire and her native plain. 
 
BOOK VI 55 
 
 When, ah ! oppress'd by life-consuming woe, 
 She fell a victim to Diana's bow. 
 
 " Yet while my Hector still survives, I see 
 My father, mother, brethren, all, in thee. 545 
 
 Alas ! my parents, brothers, kindred, all. 
 Once more will perish if my Hector fall. 
 Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share ; 
 Oh prove a husband's and a father's care ! 
 That quarter most the skilful Greeks annoy, 55° 
 
 Where yon wild fig-trees join the wall of Troy : 
 Thou, from this tow'r defend th' important post; 
 There Agamemnon points his dreadful host, 
 That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain. 
 And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train. 555 
 
 Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have giv'n, 
 Or led by hojJes, or dictated from heav'n. 
 Let others in the field their arms employ, 
 But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy." 
 
 The chief replied: " That post shall be my care, 560 
 Kor that alone, but all the works of war. 
 How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd. 
 And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the 
 
 ground, 
 Attaint the lustre of my former name, 
 Should Hector basely quit the field of fame ? 565 
 
5Q ■ POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 My early youth was bred to martial pains, 
 My soul impels me to th' embattl'd plains : 
 Let me be foremost to defend the throne, 
 And guard my father's glories, and my own. 
 Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates 570 
 
 (How my heart trembles while my tongue relates !) ; 
 The day when thou, imperial Troy ! must bend. 
 And see thy warriors fall, thy glories end. 
 And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind, 
 My mother's death, the ruin of my kind, 575 
 
 Not Priam's hoary hairs defil'd with gore, 
 Not all my brothers gasping on the shore ; 
 As thine, Andromache ! thy griefs I dread ; 
 I see thee trembling, weeping, captive led ! 
 In Argive looms our battles to design, 58° 
 
 And woes of which so large a part was 'thine ! 
 To bear the victor's hard commands, or bring 
 The weight of waters from Hyperia's° spring. 
 There, while you groan beneath the load of life, 
 They cry, ' Behold the mighty Hector's wife ! ' 585 
 
 . Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see, 
 Embitters all thy woes by naming me. 
 The thoughts of glory past, and present shame, 
 A thousand griefs, shall waken at the name ! 
 May I lie cold before that dreadful day, 59° 
 
BOOK VI 57 
 
 Press'd with a load of monumental clay ! 
 Thy Hector, wrapp'd in everlasting sleep, 
 Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep." 
 
 Thus having spoke, th' illustrious chief of Troy 
 Stretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy. 595 
 The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast, 
 Scar'd at the dazzling helm, and nodding crest. 
 With secret pleasure each fond parent smil'd, 
 And Hector hasted to relieve his child ; 
 The glitt'ring terrors from his brows unbound, 600 
 
 And placed the beaming helmet on the ground. 
 Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air, 
 Thus to the gods preferr'd a father's pray'r: 
 
 '• thou whose glory fills th' ethereal throne, 
 And all ye deathless powers ! protect my son ! 605 
 
 Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown, 
 To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown. 
 Against his country's foes the war to wage, 
 And rise the Hector of the future age ! 
 So when, triumi)hant from successful toils, 6ia 
 
 Of heroes slain he bears the reeking spoils, 
 Whole hosts may hail him with deserv'd acclaim. 
 And say, ' This chief transcends his father's fame ' : 
 While i^leas'd, amidst the gen'ral shouts of Troy, 
 His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy." 615 
 
58 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms, 
 Eestor'd the pleasing burthen to her arms ; 
 Soft on her fragrant breast the babe she laid, 
 Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey 'd. 
 The troubled pleasure soon chastis'd by fear, 620 
 
 She mingled with the smile a tender tear. 
 The soften'd chief with kind compassion view'd. 
 And dried the falling drops, and thus pursu'd : 
 
 " Andromache ! my soul's far better part, 
 W]iy with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart ? 625 
 No hostile hand can antedate my doom, 
 Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb. 
 !Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth. 
 And such the hard condition of our birth. 
 Xo force can then resist, no flight can save ; 630 
 
 All sink alike, the fearful and the brave. 
 No more — but hasten to thy tasks at home. 
 There guide the spindle, and direct the loom : 
 ]\Ie glory summons to the martial scene ; 
 The field of combat is the sphere for men. 635 
 
 Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim, 
 The first in danger as the first in fame." 
 
 Thus having said, the glorious chief resumes 
 His tow'ring helmet, black with shading plumes. 
 His j)rincess parts with a prophetic sigh, 640 
 
BOOK VI 59 
 
 Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye, 
 
 That stream'd at ev'ry look : then, moving slow, 
 
 Sought her own palace, and indulg'd her woe. 
 
 There, while her tears deplor'd the godlike man. 
 
 Thro' all her train the soft infection ran ; 645 
 
 The pious maids their mingled sorrows shed, 
 
 And mourn the living Hector as the dead. 
 
 But now, no longer deaf to honour's call, 
 Forth issues Paris from the palace wall. 
 In brazen arms that cast a gleamy ray, 650 
 
 Swift thro' the town the warrior bends his way. 
 The wanton courser thus, with reins unbound. 
 Breaks from his stall, and beats the trembling ground ; 
 Pamper'd and proud he seeks the wonted tides. 
 And laves, in height of blood, his shining sides : 655 
 His head now freed he tosses to the skies ; 
 His mane dishevell'd o'er his shoulders flies; 
 He snuffs the females in the distant plain. 
 And springs, exulting, to his fields again. 
 With equal triumph, sprightly, bold, and gay, 660 
 
 In arms refulgent as the god of day, 
 The son of Priam, glorying in his might, 
 Rush'd forth with Hector to the fields of fight. 
 And now the warriors passing on the way. 
 The graceful Paris first excus'd his stay. 665 
 
60 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 To whom the noble Hector thus replied : 
 
 " chief ! in blood, and now in arms, allied ! 
 
 Thy pow'r in war with justice none contest ; 
 
 Known is thy courage, and thy strength confess'd. 
 
 What pity, sloth should seize a soul so brave, 670 
 
 Or godlike Paris live a woman's slave ! 
 
 My heart weeps blood at what the Trojans say, 
 
 And hopes thy deed shall wipe the stain away. 
 
 Haste then, in all their glorious labours share ; 
 
 For much they suffer, for thy sake, in war. 675 
 
 These" ills shall cease, whene'er by Jove's decree 
 
 We crown the bowl to Heav'n and Liberty : 
 
 While the proud foe his frustrate triumphs mourns, 
 
 And Greece indignant thro' her seas returns." 
 
BOOK XXII 
 
 THE DEATH OF HECTOR 
 
 Thus to their bulwarks, smit with panic fear, 
 The herded Ilians rush like driven deer ; 
 There safe, they wipe the briny drops away, 
 And drown in bowls the labours of the day. 
 Close to the walls, advancing o'er the fields, 5 
 
 Beneath one roof ° of well-compacted shields, 
 IVIarch, bending on, the Greeks' embodied pow'rs, 
 rar-stretching in the shade of Trojan tow'rs. 
 Great Hector singly stay'd ; chain'd down by fate. 
 There fix'd he stood before the Scaean gate ; 10 
 
 Still his bold arms determin'd to employ, 
 The guardian still of long-defended Troy. 
 
 Apollo now to tir'd Achilles turns 
 (The pow'r confess'd in all his glory burns), 
 " And what," he cries, " has Peleus' son in view, 15 
 With mortal speed a godhead to pursue ? 
 For not to thee to know the gods is giv'n, 
 Unskill'd to trace the latent marks of heav'n. 
 
 61 
 
62 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 What boots thee now that Troy forsook the plain ? 
 Vain thy past labour, and thy present vain : 20 
 
 Safe in their walls are now her troops bestow'd, 
 While here thy frantic rage attacks a god." 
 
 The chief incens'd : " Too partial god of day ! 
 To check my conquests in the middle way : 
 How few in Ilion else had refuge found ! 25 
 
 What gasping numbers now had bit the ground! 
 Thou robb'st me of a glory justly mine, 
 Pow'rf ul of godhead, and of fraud divine : 
 Mean fame, alas ! for one of heav'nly strain. 
 To cheat a mortal who repines° in vain." 30 
 
 Then to the city, terrible and strong, 
 With high and haughty steps he tower'd along : 
 So the proud courser, victor of the prize, 
 To the near goal with double ardour flies. 
 Him, as he blazing shot across the field, 35 
 
 The careful eyes of Priam first beheld. 
 Not half so dreadful rises to the sight, 
 Thro' the thick gloom of some tempestuous night, 
 Orion's° dog (the year when autumn weighs). 
 And o'er the feebler stars exerts his rays ; 40 
 
 Terrific glory ! for his burning breath 
 Taints the red air with fevers, plagues, and death. 
 So flam'd his fiery mail. Then° wept the sage : 
 
BOOK XXII 63 
 
 He strikes his rev'rend head, now white with age ; 
 
 He lifts his wither'd arms ; obtests° the skies ; 45 
 
 He calls his much-lov'd son with feeble cries : 
 
 The son, resolv'd Achilles' force to dare, 
 
 Full at the Scsean gate expects the war : 
 
 While the sad father on the rampart stands, 
 
 And thus adjures him with extended hands : 50 
 
 "Ah stay not, stay not ! guardless and alone 
 Hector, my lov'd, my dearest, bravest son ! 
 ^rethinks already I behold thee slain. 
 And stretch'd beneath that fury of the plain. 
 Implacable Achilles ! might'st thou be 55 
 
 To all the gods no dearer than to me ! 
 Thee vultures wild should scatter round the shore. 
 And bloody dogs grow fiercer from thy gore ! 
 How many valiant sons I late enjoy 'd, ; f 
 
 Valiant in vain ! by thy curs'd arm destroy'd . 60 
 
 Or, worse than slaughter'd, sold in distant isles 
 To shameful bondage and unworthy toils. 
 Two, while I speak, my eyes in vain explore. 
 Two from one mother° sprung, my Polyclore 
 And lov'd Lycaon ; now perhaps no more ! 65 
 
 Oh I if in yonder hostile camp they live. 
 What heaps of gold, what treasures would I give 
 (Their grandsire's wealth, by right of birth their o^rn, 
 
64 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 Coiisign'd his daughter with Lelegia's° throne) : 
 
 But if (which heav'n forbid) already lost, 70 
 
 All pale they wander on the Stygian° coast, 
 
 What sorrows then must their sad mother know, 
 
 What anguish I ! unutterable woe ! 
 
 Yet less that anguish, less to her, tg^^me, 
 
 Less to all Troy, if not depriv'd of thee. 75 
 
 Yet shun Achilles ! enter yet the wall ; 
 
 And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all ! 
 
 Save thy dear life : or if a soul so brave 
 
 Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save. 
 
 Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs ; - 80 
 
 While yet thy father feels the woes he bears. 
 
 Yet curs'd Vvdth sense ! a wretch, whom in his rage 
 
 (All trembling on the verge of helpless age) 
 
 Great Jove has plac'd, sad spectacle of pain ! 
 
 The bitter dregs of fortune's cup to drain : 85 
 
 To fill with scenes of death his closing eyes, 
 
 And number all his days by miseries ! 
 
 My heroes slain, my bridal bed o'erturn'd. 
 
 My daughters ravish'd, and my city burn'd. 
 
 My bleeding infants dash'd against the floor ; 90 
 
 These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more ! 
 
 Perhaps ev'n I, reserv'd by angry fate 
 
 The last sad relic of my ruin'd state 
 
BOOK XXII 65 
 
 (Dire pomp of sov'reign wretchedness !), must fall 
 
 And stain the pavement of my regal hall ; 95 
 
 Where famish'd dogs, late guardians of my door, 
 
 Shall lick their mangled master's spatter'd gore. 
 
 Yet for my sons I thank ye, gods! 'twas well: 
 
 Well that they perish'd, for in fight they fell. 
 
 Who dies in youth and vigour, dies the best, loo 
 
 Struck thro' with wounds, all honest on the breast. 
 
 But when the fates, in fulness of their ras'e. 
 
 Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, 
 
 In dust the rev'rend lineaments deform, 
 
 And pour to dogs the life-blood scarceh; warm ; 105 
 
 This, this is misery ! the last, the worst. 
 
 That man can feel : man, fated to be curs'd ! " 
 
 He said, and acting what no words could say, 
 Eent from his head the silver locks away. 
 AYith him the mournful mother bears a part: no 
 
 Yet all their sorrows turn not Hector's heart : 
 The zone° unbrac'd, her bosom she display'd ; 
 And thus, fast-falling the salt tears, she said : 
 
 '• Have mercy on me, my son ! revere 
 The words of age ; attend a parent's pray'r ! 115 
 
 If ever thee in these fond arms I press'd, 
 Or still'd thy infant clamours at this breast ; 
 Ah ! do not thus our helpless years forego. 
 
66 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 But, by our walls secur'd, repel the foe. 
 
 Against his rage if singly thou proceed, 120 
 
 Shouldst thou (but heav'n avert it!), shouldst thou 
 
 bleed. 
 Nor must thy corse lie honour'd on the bier, 
 Nor spouse, nor mother, grace thee with a tear; 
 Far from our pious rites, those dear remains 
 Must feast the vultures on the naked plains." 125 
 
 So they, while down their cheeks the torrents roll : 
 But fix'd remains the purpose of his soul ; 
 Kesolv'd he stands, and with a fiery glance 
 Expects the l^ero's terrible advance. 
 So, rolPd up in his den, the swelling snake 130 
 
 Beholds the traveller approach the brake ; 
 When, fed with noxious herbs, his turgid veins 
 Have gather'd half the poisons° of the plains ; 
 He burns, he stiffens with collected ire. 
 And his red eyeballs glare with living fire. 135 
 
 Beneath a turret, on his shield reclin'd, 
 He stood, and question'd thus his mighty mind : 
 
 " Where° lies my way ? To enter in the wall ? 
 Honour and shame tli' ungen'rous thought recall: 
 ShalF proud Polydamas before the gate 140 
 
 Proclaim his counsels are obey'd too late. 
 Which timely follow'd but the former night. 
 
BOOK XXII 67 
 
 What numbers had been sav'd by Hector's flight ? 
 
 That wise advice rejected with disdain, 
 
 I feel my folly in my people slain. 145 
 
 Rethinks my suff'ring country's voice I hear, 
 
 But most, her worthless sons insult my ear, 
 
 On my rash courage charge the chance of war, 
 
 And blame those virtues which they cannot share. 
 
 Xo — if I e'er return, return I must 150 
 
 Glorious, my country's terror laid in dust : 
 
 Or if I perish, let her see me fall 
 
 In field at least, and fighting for her wall. 
 
 And yet suppose these measures I forego. 
 
 Approach unarm 'd, and parley with the foe, 155 
 
 The warrior-shield, the helm, and lance lay down. 
 
 And treat on terms° of peace to save the town : 
 
 The wife° withheld, the treasure ill-detain'd 
 
 (Cause of the war, and grievance of the land), 
 
 With honourable justice to restore ; 160 
 
 And add half Ilion's yet remaining store, 
 
 Which Troy shall, sworn, produce ; that iujur'd Greece 
 
 :May share our wealth, and leave our walls in peace. 
 
 But why this thought ? TJnarm'd if I should go, 
 
 What hope of mercy from this vengeful foe, 165 
 
 But woman-like to fall, and fall without a blow? 
 
 We greet not here as man conversing man. 
 
68 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 Met at ail oak or journeying o'er a plain; 
 
 Xo season now for calm, familiar talk, 
 
 Like youths and maidens in an ev'niiig walk : 17a 
 
 War is our business, but to whom is giv'n 
 
 To die or triumph, that determine heav'ii I " 
 
 Thus pond'ring, like a god the Greek drew nigh : 
 His dreadful plumage nodded from on high ; 
 The Pelian° jav'lin, in his better hand, 175 
 
 Shot trembling rays that glitter'd o'er the land ; 
 And on his breast the beamy splendours shone 
 Like Jove's own light'ning, or the rising sun. 
 As Hector sees, unusual terrors rise. 
 Struck by some god, he fears, recedes," and flies : 180 
 He leaves the gates, he leaves the walls behind ; 
 Achilles follows like the winged wind. 
 Thus at the panting dove the falcon flies 
 (The swiftest racer of the liquid skies) ; 
 Just when he holds, or thinks he holds, his prey, 185 
 Obliquely wheeling thro' th' aerial way, 
 AVith open beak and shrilling cries he springs, 
 And aims his claws, and shoots upon his wings : 
 No less fore-riglit° the rapid chase they held, 
 One urg'd by fury, one by fear impell'd ; 190 
 
 Now circling round the walls their course maintain. 
 Where the high watch-tow'r overlooks the plain; 
 
BOOK XXII 69 
 
 Kow where the fig-trees° spread their umbrage broad 
 
 (A wider compass), smoke along the road. 
 
 Next by Scamander's double source they bound, 195 
 
 Where two f am'd fountains burst the parted ground : 
 
 This hot thro' scorching clefts is seen to rise, 
 
 With exhalations steaming to the skies; 
 
 That the green banks in summer's heat o'erflows. 
 
 Like crystal clear, and cold as winter snows. 200 
 
 Each gushing fount a marble° cistern fills, 
 
 Whose polish'd bed receives the falling rills ; 
 
 Where Trojan dames (ere yet alarm'd by Greece) 
 
 Wash'd their fair garments in the days of peace. 
 
 By these they pass'd, one chasing, one in flight 205 
 
 (The mighty fled, pursu'd by stronger might) ; 
 
 Swift was the course ; no vulgar prize they pla}^, 
 
 No vulgar victim must reward the day 
 
 (Such as in races crown the speedy strife) : 
 
 The prize contended was great Hector's life. 210 
 
 As when some hero's fun'rals are decreed, -^ 
 In grateful honour of the mighty dead ; 
 Where high rewards the vig'rous youth inflame 
 (Some golden tripod, or some lovely dame). 
 The panting coursers swiftly turn the goal, 215 
 
 And with them turns the rais'd spectator's soul : 
 Thus three times Tound the Trojan wall they fly; 
 
70 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 The gazing gods lean forward from the sky : 
 
 To whom, while eager on the chase they look, 
 
 The sire of mortals and immortals spoke : 22a 
 
 " Unworthy sight ! the man belov'd of heav'n, 
 Behold, inglorious round yon city driv'n ! 
 My heart partakes the gen'rous Hector's pain ; 
 Hector, whose zeal whole hecatombs has slain, 
 Whose grateful fumes the gods receiv'd with joy, 225 
 From Ida's summits and the tow'rs of Troy : 
 Now see him flying ! to his fears resign'd, 
 And Fate and fierce Achilles close behind. 
 Consult, ye pow'rs ('tis worthy your debate), 
 Whether to snatch him from impending fate, 230 
 
 Or let him bear, by stern Pelides slain 
 (Good as he is), the lot impos'd on man ? " 
 
 Then Pallas thus : " Shall he whose vengeance 
 forms 
 The forky bolt, and blackens heav'n with storms, 
 Shall he prolong one Trojan's forfeit breath, 235 
 
 A man, a mortal, pre-ordain'd to death ? 
 And will no murmurs fill the courts above ? 
 No gods indignant blame their partial Jove ? " 
 
 " Go then," return'd the sire, " without delay ; 
 Exert thy will : I give the fates their way." 240 
 
 Swift at the mandate pleas'd Tritonia° flies, 
 
BOOK XXII 71 
 
 Aud stoops impetuous from the cleaving skies. 
 
 As thro' the forest, o'er the vale and lawn, 
 The well-breath'd beagle drives the flying fawn ; 
 In vain he tries the covert of the brakes, 245 
 
 Or deep beneath the trembling thicket shakes : 
 Sure of the vapour° in the tainted dews, 
 The certain hound his various maze pursues : 
 Thus step by step, where'er the Trojan wheel'd, 
 There swift Achilles compass'd round the field. 250 
 Oft as to reach the Dardan° gates he bends, 
 And hopes th' assistance of his pitying friends 
 (Whose show'ring arrows, as he cours'd below, 
 From the high turrets might oppress the foe), 
 So oft Achilles turns him to the plain : 255 
 
 He eyes the city, but he eyes in vain. 
 \ As° men in slumbers seem with speedy pace 
 One to pursue, and one to lead the chase, 
 Their sinking limbs the fancied course forsake, 
 iS'or this can fly, nor that can overtake : 260 
 
 No less the lab'ring heroes pant and strain ; 
 AVhile that but flies, and this pursues, in vain. 
 What god, O Muse I assisted Hector's force, 
 With fate itself so long to hold the course^ 
 Phoebus it was : who, in his latest hour, "" 265 
 
 Eudu'd his knees with strength, his nerves with pow'r. 
 
72 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 And great Achilles, lest some Greek's advance 
 Should snatch the glory from his lifted lance, 
 Sign'd to the troops, to yield his foe the way, 
 And leave untouch'd the honours of the day. 270 
 
 Jove lifts the golden balances, that show 
 The fates of mortal men and things below : 
 Here each contending hero's lot he tries, 
 And weighs, with equal hand, their destinies. 
 Low sinks the scale surcharg'd with Hector's fate ; 275 
 Heavy with death it sinks, and helF receives the 
 weight. 
 
 Then Phoebus left him. Pierce Minerva flies 
 To stern Pelides, and, triumphing, cries : 
 " lov'd of Jove ! this day our labours cease, 
 And conquest blazes with full beams on Greece. 2S0 
 Great Hector falls ; that Hector fam'd so far, 
 Drunk with renown, insatiable of war. 
 Falls by thy hand and mine ! nor force nor flight 
 Shall more avail him, nor his god of light. 
 See, where in vain he supplicates above, 285 
 
 Roll'd at the feet of unrelenting Jove ! 
 Rest here : myself will lead the Trojan on, 
 And urge to meet the fate he cannot shun." 
 
 Her voice divine the chief with joyful mind 
 Obey'd; and rested, on his lance reclin'd; 290 
 
BOOK XXII 73 
 
 While like I)eipliobus° the martial dame 
 (Her face, her gesture, and her arms, the same), 
 In show° an aid, by hapless Hector's side 
 Approach'd,° and greets him thus with voice belied : 
 
 ''Too long, Hector! have I borne the sight '*^'*'^ 
 Of this distress, and sorrow'd in thy flight : 
 It fits us now a noble stand to make. 
 And here, as brothers, equal fates partake." 
 
 Then he : ''0 prince ! allied in blood and fame, 
 Dearer than all that own a brother's name ; 300 
 
 Of all that Hecuba to Priam bore, 
 Long tried, long lov'd; much lov'd, but honour'd 
 
 more ! 
 Since you of all our num'rous race alone 
 Defend my life, regardless of your own." 
 
 Again the goddess : '' Much my father's pray'r, 305 
 And much my mother's, press'd me to forbear : 
 My friends embrac'd my knees, adjur'd my stay, 
 But stronger love impell'd, and I obey. 
 Come then, the glorious conflict let us try, 
 Let the steel sparkle and the jav'lin fly ; 310 
 
 Or let us stretch Achilles on the field, 
 Or to his arm our bloody trophies yield." 
 
 Fraudf ul she said ; then swiftly march'd before ; 
 The Dardan hero shuns his foe no more. 
 
74 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 Sternly they met. The silence Hector broke; 315 
 
 His dreadful plumage nodded as he spoke : 
 
 " Enough, son of Pel ens ! Troy has view'd 
 Her walls thrice circled, and her chief pursu'd. 
 But now some god within me bids me try 
 Thine or my fate : I kill thee or I die. 320 
 
 Yet on the verge of battle let us stay, 
 And for a moment's space suspend the day : 
 Let heav'n's high pow'rs be call'd to arbitrate 
 The just conditions of this stern debate 
 (Eternal witnesses of all below, 325 
 
 And faithful guardians of the treasur'd vow !) : 
 To them I swear : if, victor in the strife, 
 Jove by these hands shall shed thy noble life, 
 No vile dishonour shall thy corse pursue ; 
 Stripp'd of its arms alone (the conqu'ror's due), 330 
 The rest to Greece uninjur'd I'll restore : 
 Now plight thy mutual oath, I ask no more." 
 
 " Talk not of oaths," the dreadful chief replies. 
 While anger flash'd from his disdainful eyes, 
 " Detested as thou art, and ought to be, 335 
 
 Nor oath nor pact Achilles plights with thee ; 
 Such pacts as lambs and rabid wolves combine. 
 Such leagues as men and furious lions join, 
 To such I call the gods ! one constant state 
 
BOOK XXII 75 
 
 Of lasting rancour and eternal liate : 340 
 
 No thought but rage, and never-ceasing strife, 
 
 Till death extinguish rage, and thought and life. 
 
 Eouse then thy forces this important hour, 
 
 Collect thy soul, and call forth all thy pow'r. 
 
 Xo farther subterfuge, no farther chance ; 345 
 
 'Tis Pallas, Pallas gives thee to my lance. 
 
 Each Grecian ghost by thee depriv'd of breath, 
 
 Now hovers round, and calls° thee to thy death." 
 
 He spoke, and launch'd his jav'lin at the foe ; 
 But Hector shunn'd the meditated blow : 350 
 
 He stoop'd, while o'er his head the flying spear 
 Sung innocent, and spent its force in air. 
 Minerva watch'd it falling on the land, 
 Then drew, and gave to great Achilles' hand, 
 Unseen of Hector, who, elate with joy, 355 
 
 Now shakes his lance, and braves the dread of Troy : 
 
 "The life you boasted to that jav'lin giv'n. 
 Prince ! you have miss'd. My fate depends on heav'n. 
 To thee (presumptuous as thou art) unknown 
 Or Avhat must prove my fortune or thy own. 360 
 
 Boasting is but an art, our fears to blind. 
 And with false terrors sink another's mind. 
 But know, whatever fate I am to try, 
 By no dishonest wound shall Hector die j 
 
76 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 I shall not fall a fugitive at least, 365 
 
 My soul shall bravely issue from my breast. ' 
 But first; try thou my arm ; and may this dart 
 End all my country's woes, deep buried in thy heart ! " 
 
 The weapon flew, its course unerring held ; 
 Unerring, but the heav'nly shield repell'd 370 
 
 The mortal dart ; resulting with a bound 
 From off the ringing orb, it struck the ground. 
 Hector beheld his jav'lin fall in vain, 
 Nor other lance nor other hope remain ; 
 He calls Deiphobus, demands a spear, 375 
 
 In vain, for no Deiphobus was there. 
 All comfortless he stands ; then, with a sigh : 
 " 'Tis so — heav'n wills it, and my hour is nigh ! 
 I deem'd Deiphobus had heard my call. 
 But he secure lies guarded in the wall. 380 
 
 A god deceived me ; Pallas, 'twas thy deed : 
 Death and black fate approach ! 'Tis I must bleed. 
 No refuge now, no succour from above, 
 Great Jove deserts me, and the son of Jove, 
 Propitious once and kind ! Then welcome fate ! 385 
 'Tis true I perish, yet I perish great : 
 Yet in a mighty deed I shall expire. 
 Let future ages hear it, and admire ! " 
 
 Fierce, at the word, his weighty sword he drew, 
 
BOOK XXII 77 
 
 And, all collected, on Achilles Jiew. 390 
 
 So JoYe's° bold bird, high balanced in the air, 
 Stoops from the clouds to truss the quiv'ring hare. 
 Nor less Achilles his fierce soul prepares ; 
 Before his breast the flaming shield he bears, 
 Eefulgent orb ! above his f ourfokF cone 395 
 
 The gilded horse-hair sparkled in the sun, 
 Nodding at ev'ry step (Vulcanian° frame !), 
 And as h.6 mov'd, bis figure seem'd on flame. 
 As radiant Hesper shines ^vith keener light, 
 Far-beaming o'er the silver host of night, 400 
 
 When all the starry train emblaze the sphere : 
 So shone the point of great Achilles' spear. 
 In his right hand he waves the weapon round. 
 Eyes the whole man, and meditates the wound : 
 But° the rich mail Patroclus lately wore, 405 
 
 Securely cas'd the warrior's body o'er. 
 One place at length he spies, to let in fate. 
 Where 'twixt the neck and throat the jointed plate 
 Gave entrance : thro' that penetrable p)art 
 Furious he drove the well-directed dart : 410 
 
 Nor pierc'd the windpipe 3'et, nor took the pow'r 
 Of speech, unhappy ! from thy dying hour. 
 Prone on the field the bleeding warrior lies, 
 While thus, triumphing, stern Achilles cries : 
 
78 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 "At last is Hector stretcli'd upon the plain, 415 
 
 Who fear'd no vengeance for Patroclus slain : 
 Then, prince ! you should have fear'd what now you 
 
 feel ; 
 Achilles absent was Achilles still. 
 Yet a short space the great avenger stay'd, 
 Then low in dust thy strength and glory laid. 420 
 
 Peaceful he sleeps, with all our rites adorn'd, 
 For ever honoured, and for ever mourn'd : 
 While, cast to all the rage of hostile pow'r, 
 Thee birds shall mangle, and the dogs devour." 
 
 Then Hector, fainting at th' approach of death : 425 
 " By thy own soul ! by those who gave thee breath ! 
 By all the sacred prevalence of pray'r ; 
 Ah, leave me not for Grecian dogs to tear ! 
 The common rites of sepulture bestow. 
 To soothe a father's and a mother's woe ; 430 
 
 Let their large gifts procure an urn at least, 
 And Hector's ashes in his country rest." 
 
 " No, wretch accurs'd ! " relentless he replies 
 (Flames, as he spoke, shot flashing from his eyes), 
 "jSTot those who gave me breath should bid me spare, 
 Nor all the sacred prevalence^ of pray'r. 436 
 
 Could I myself the bloody banquet join ! 
 No — to° the doGfs that carcase I resign. 
 
BOOK XXII 79 
 
 Should Troy to bribe me bring forth all her^store, 
 And, giving thousands, offer thousands more ; 440 
 
 Should Dardan Priam, and his weeping dame, 
 Drain their whole realm to buy one fun'ral flame ; 
 Their Hector on the pile they should not see, 
 Nor rob the vultures of one limb of thee." y^ 
 
 Then thus the chief his dying accents drew : 445 
 
 " Thy rage, implacable ! too well I knew : 
 The Furies that relentless breast have steel'd, 
 And curs'd thee with a heart that cannot yield. 
 Yet think, a day will come, when fate's decree 
 And angry gods shall wreak this wrong on thee ; 450 
 Phoebus and Paris shall avenge my fate. 
 
 And stretch° thee here, before this Scsean gate.'^ 
 He ceas'd : the fates suppress'd his lab'ring breath, 
 
 And his eyes stiffen'd at the hand of death ; 
 
 To the dark realm the spirit wings its way 455 
 
 (The manly body left a load of clay). 
 
 And plaintive glides along the dreary coast, 
 
 A naked, wand'ring, melancholy ghost ! 
 Achilles, musing as he roll'd his eyes 
 
 O'er the dead hero, thus (unheard) replies : 460 
 
 " Die thou the first ! when Jove and heav'n ordain, 
 
 I follow thee." He said, and stripp'd the slain. 
 
 Then, forcing backward from the gaping wound 
 
80 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 The reeking jav'lin, cast it on the ground. 
 
 The thronging Greeks behold, with wond'ring eyes, 465 
 
 His manly° beauty and superior size : 
 
 Wliile some, ignobler, the great dead deface° 
 
 With wounds ungen'rous, or with taunts disgrace. 
 
 " How chang'd that Hector ! who, like Jove, of late 
 
 Sent lightning on our fleets and scatter'd fate ! " 470 
 
 High o'er the slain the great Achilles stands, 
 Begirt with heroes and surrounding bands ; 
 And thus aloud, while all the host attends : 
 "Princes and leaders ! countrymen and friends! 
 Since now at length the pow'rful will of heav'n 475 
 The dire destroyer to our arm has giv'n, 
 Is not Troy fall'n already ? Haste, ye pow'rs !^ 
 See if already their deserted tow'rs 
 Are left unmanned ; or if they yet retain 
 The souls of heroes, their great Hector slain. 480 
 
 But what is Troy, or glory what to me ? 
 Or why reflects my mind on aught but thee, 
 Divine Patroclus ! Death has seal'd his eyes ; . ■ 
 
 Unwept, unhonour'd, uninterr'd he lies ! 
 Can his dear image from my soul depart, 485 
 
 Long as the vital spirit moves my heart ? 
 If, in the melancholy shades below, 
 The flames of friends and lovers cease to glow, 
 
BOOK XXII 81 
 
 Yet mine shall sacred last ; mine, unclecay'd, 
 
 Burn on thro' death, and animate my shade. 490 
 
 Meanwhile, ye sons of Greece, in triumph bring 
 
 The corse of Hector, and your paeans sing. 
 
 Be this the song, slow moving tow'rd the shore, 
 
 ' Hector° is dead, and Ilion is no more.' " 
 
 Then his fell soul a thought of vengeance bred 495 
 (Unworthy of himself, and of the dead) ; 
 The nervous ancles bor'd, his feet he bound 
 With thongs inserted thro' the double wound ; 
 These fix'd up high behind the rolling wain. 
 His graceful head was trail'd along the plain. 500 
 
 .Proud on his car th' insulting victor stood. 
 And bore aloft his arms, distilling blood. 
 He smites the steeds ; the rapid chariot flies ; 
 The sudden clouds of circling dust arise. 
 Now lost is all that formidable air ; 505 
 
 The face divine and long-descending hair 
 Purple the ground, and streak the sable sand ; 
 ^Deform'd, dishonour'd, in his native land! 
 Giv'n to the rage of an insulting throng ! 
 And, in his parent's sight, now dragg'd along! 51c. 
 
 The mother first beheld with sad survey ; 
 She rent her tresses, venerably grey. 
 And cast far off the regal veils away. 
 
82 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 With piercing shrieks his bitter fate she moans, 
 
 While the sad father answers groans with groans ; 515 
 
 Tears after tears his mournful cheeks o'erflow, 
 
 And the whole city wears one face of woe : 
 
 No less than if the rage of hostile fires, 
 
 From her foundations curling to her spires, 
 
 O'er the proud citadel at length should rise, 520 
 
 And the last blaze send Ilion to the skies. 
 
 The wretched monarch of the falling state, 
 
 Distracted, presses to the Dardan gate : 
 
 Scarce the whole people stop his desp'rate course. 
 
 While strong affliction gives the feeble force : 525 
 
 Grief tears his heart, and drives him to and fro, 
 
 In all the raging impotence of woe. 
 
 At length he roU'd in dust, and thus begun. 
 
 Imploring all, and naming one by one : 
 
 "Ah ! let me, let me go where sorrow calls; 530 
 
 I, only I, will issue from your walls 
 
 (Guide or companion, friends ! I ask ye none). 
 
 And bow before the murd'rer of my son ; 
 
 My grief perhaps his pity may engage ; 
 
 Perhaps at least he may respect my age. 535 
 
 He has a father, too ; a man like me ; 
 
 One not exempt from age and misery 
 
 (Vig'rous no more, as when his young embrace 
 
BOOK XXII 83 
 
 Begot this pest of me and all my race). 
 
 How many valiant sons, in early bloom, 540 
 
 Has that curs'd hand sent headlong to the tomb ! 
 
 Thee, Hector ! last; thy loss (divinely brave !) 
 
 Sinks my sad sonl with sorrow to the grave. 
 
 Oh had thy gentle spirit pass'd in peace, 
 
 The son expiring in the sire's embrace, 545 
 
 While both thy parents wept thy fatal hour, 
 
 And, bending o'er thee, mix'd the tender show'r ! 
 
 Some comfort that had been, some sad relief, 
 
 To melt in full satiety of grief ! " 
 
 Thus wail'd the father, grov'ling on the ground, 550 
 And all the eyes of Ilion stream'd around. 
 
 Amidst her matrons Hecuba appears 
 (A mourning princess, and a train in tears) : 
 " Ah ! why has heav'n prolong'd this hated breath. 
 Patient of horrours, to behold thy death ? 555 
 
 Hector ! late thy parents' pride and joy. 
 The boast of nations ! the defence of Troy ! 
 To whom her safety and her fame she ow'd, 
 Her chief, her hero, and almost her god ! 
 fatal change ! become in one sad day 560 
 
 A senseless corse ! inanimated clay ! " 
 ^ But not as yet the fatal news had spread 
 To fair Andromache, of Hector dead ; 
 
84 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 As yet no messenger had told his fate, 
 
 Nor ev'n his stay without the Scsean gate. 565 
 
 Far in the close recesses of the dome, 
 
 Pensive she plied the melancholy loom ; 
 
 A growing work employed her secret hours, 
 
 Confus'dly gay with intermingled flow'rs. 
 
 Her fair-hair'd handmaids heat the brazen urn, 570 
 
 The bath preparing for her lord's return : 
 
 In vain : alas ! her lord returns no more ! 
 
 Unbath'd he lies, and bleeds along the shore ! 
 
 Now from the walls the clamours reach her ear, 
 
 And all her members shake with sudden fear; 575 
 
 Forth from her iv'ry hand the shuttle falls. 
 
 As thus, astonish'd, to her maids she calls : 
 
 " Ah, follow me ! " she cried ; " what plaintive noise 
 Invades my ear ? 'Tis sure my mother's voice. 
 My falt'ring knees their trembling frame desert, 580 
 A pulse unusual flutters at my heart. 
 Some strange disaster, some reverse of fate 
 (Ye gods avert it!) threats the Trojan state. 
 Far be the omen which my thoughts suggest ! 
 But much I fear my Hector's dauntless breast 585 
 
 Confronts Achilles ; chas'd along the plain. 
 Shut from our walls ! I fear, I fear him slain ! 
 Safe in the crowd he ever scorn'd to wait. 
 
BOOK XXII 85 
 
 And sought for glory in the jaws of fate : 
 
 Perhaps that noble heat has cost his breath, 590 
 
 Now quench'cl for ever in the arms of death." 
 
 She spoke ; and, furious, with distracted pace. 
 Fears in her heart, and anguish in her face. 
 Flies thro' the dome (the maids her step pursue). 
 And mounts the walls, and sends around her view. 595 
 Too soon her eyes the killing object found, 
 The godlike Hector dragg'd along the ground. 
 A sudden darkness shades her swimming eyes : 
 She faints, she falls ; her breath, her colour flies. 
 Her hair's fair ornaments, the braids that bound, 600 
 The net that held them, and the wreath that crown'd. 
 The veil and diadem, flew far away 
 (The gift of Venus on her bridal day). 
 Around, a train of weeping sisters stands, 
 To raise her sinking with assistant hands. 605 
 
 Scarce from the verge of death recall' d, again 
 She faints, or but recovers to complain : 
 
 '' wretched husband of a wretched wife ! 
 Born with one fate, to one unhappy life ! 
 For° sure one star its baneful beam displayed 610 
 
 On Priam's roof and Hippoplacia's shade. 
 From diff'rent parents, diff' rent climes, we came, 
 At diff'rent periods, yet our fate the same ! 
 
86 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Why was my birth to great Etition ow'd, 
 
 And why was all that tender care bestow'd ? 615 
 
 Would I had never been ! — thou, the ghost 
 
 Of my dead husband ! miserably lost ! 
 
 Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone ! 
 
 And I abandon'd, desolate, alone ! 
 
 An only child, once comfort of my pains, 620 
 
 Sad product now of hapless love, remains ! 
 
 No more to smile upon his sire ! no friend 
 
 To help him now ! no father to defend ! 
 
 For should he 'scape the sword, the common doom, 
 
 What wrongs attend him, and what griefs to come ! 625 
 
 Ev'n from his own paternal roof expell'd, 
 
 Some stranger ploughs his patrimonial field. 
 
 The day that to the shades the father sends, 
 
 Eobs the sad orphan of his father's friends : 
 
 He, wretched outcast of mankind ! appears 630 
 
 For ever sad, for ever bath'd in tears ; 
 
 Amongst the happy, unregarded he 
 
 Hangs on the robe or trembles at the knee ; 
 
 While those his father's former bounty fed, 
 
 Nor reach the goblet, nor divide the bread : 635 
 
 The kindest but his present wants allay, 
 
 To leave him wretched the succeeding day. 
 
 Frugal compassion ! Heedless, they who boast 
 
BOOK XXII 87 
 
 Both parents still, nor feel what he has lost, 
 
 Shall cry, * Begone 1° thy father feasts not here ' : 640 
 
 The wretch obeys, retiring with a tear. 
 
 Thus wretched, thus retiring all in tears. 
 
 To my sad soul Astyanax appears ! 
 
 Forc'd by repeated insults to return. 
 
 And to his widow'd mother vainly mourn, 645 
 
 He who, with tender delicacy bred. 
 
 With princes sported, and on dainties fed. 
 
 And, when still ev'ning gave him up to rest. 
 
 Sunk soft in down upon the nurse's breast, 649 
 
 Must — ah ! what must he not ? Whom Ilion calls 
 
 Astyanax, from her well-guarded walls, 
 
 Is now that name no more, unhappy boy ! 
 
 Since now no more the father guards his Troy. 
 
 But thou, my Hector ! liest expos'd in air. 
 
 Far from thy parents' and thy consort's care, 655 
 
 Whose hand in vain, directed by her love, 
 
 The martial scarf and robe of triumph wove. 
 
 Now to devouring flames be these a prey, 
 
 Useless to thee, from this accursed day ! 
 
 Yet let the sacrifice at least be paid, 660 
 
 An honour to the living, not the dead ! " 
 
 So spake the mournful dame : her matrons hear, 
 Sigh back her sighs, and answer tear with tear. 
 
BOOK XXIV 
 
 THE REDEMPTION OF THE BODY OF HECTOR 
 
 Now from the finish'd games" the Grecian band 
 Seek their black ships, and clear the crowded strand : 
 All stretch'd at ease the genial banquet share, 
 And pleasing slumbers quiet all their care. 
 Not so Achilles : he, to grief resign'd, 5 
 
 His friend's dear image present to his mind, 
 Takes his sad couch, more unobserv'd to weep, 
 Nor tastes the gifts of all-composing sleep ; 
 Eestless he roll'd around his weary bed, 
 And all his soul on his Patroclus fed : lo 
 
 The form so pleasing, and the heart so kind, 
 That youthful vigour, and that manly mind, 
 What toils they shar'd, what martial works they 
 
 wrought, / J 
 What seas they measur'd, and what fields they fought ; 
 All pass'd before him in rememb'rance dear, 15 
 
 Thought follows thought, and tear succeeds to tear. 
 And now supine, now prone, the. hero lay, 
 xN"ow shifts his side, impatient for the day ; 
 
BOOK XXIV 89 
 
 Then starting up, disconsolate lie goes 
 
 Wide° on the lonely beach to vent his woes. 20 
 
 There as the solitary mourner raves, 
 
 The ruddy morning rises o'er the waves : 
 
 Soon as it rose, his furious steeds he join'd; 
 
 The chariot flies, and Hector trails behind. 
 
 And thrice, Patroclus ! round thy monument^ 25 
 
 Was Hector dragg'd, then hurried to the tent. 
 
 There sleep at last o'ercomes the hero's eyes; 
 
 While foul in dust th' unhonour'd carcase lies. 
 
 But not deserted by the pitying skies. 
 
 For Phoebus watch'd it with superior care, 30 
 
 Preserv'd from gaping wounds, and tainting air ; 
 
 And, ignominious as it swept the field, 
 
 Spread o'er the sacred corse his golden° shield. 
 
 All heav'n was mov'd, and Hermes° will'd to go 
 
 By stealth to snatch him from th' insulting foe : 35 
 
 But Neptune this, and Pallas this denies, 
 
 And th' unrelenting empress" of the skies : 
 
 E'er since that day iinj^Llaea^ble^to Troy, 
 
 What time young Paris," simple shepherd boy, 
 
 Won by destructive lust (reward obscene), 40 
 
 Their charms rejected for the Cyprian queen. 
 
 But when the tenth celestial morning broke, 
 
 To heav'n assembled, thus Apollo spoke : 
 
90 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 " Unpitying pow'rs ! liow oft each holy fane 
 Has Hector ting'd with blood of victims slain ! 45 
 
 And can ye still his cold remains pursue ? 
 Still grudge his body to the Trojans' view ? 
 Deny to consort, mother, son, and sire, 
 The last sad honours of a fun'ral fire ? 
 Is then the dire Achilles all your care ? 50 
 
 That iron heart, inflexibly severe ; 
 A lion, not a man, who slaughters wide 
 In strength of rage and impotence of pride, 
 AYho hastes to murder with a savage joy, 
 Invades around, and breathes but to destroy. 55 
 
 Shame° is not of his soul ; nor understood 
 The greatest evil and the greatest good. 
 Still for one loss he rages unresign'd, 
 Eepugnant to the lot of all mankind ; 
 To lose a friend, a brother, or a son, 60 
 
 Heav'n dooms each mortal, and its will is done : 
 Awhile they sorrow, then dismiss their care ; 
 Fate gives the wound, and man is born to bear. 
 But this insatiate the commission giv'n 
 By fate exceeds, and tempts the wrath of heav'n : 65 
 Lo how his rage dishonest drags along 
 Hector's dead earth, insensible of wrong ! 
 Brave tho' he be, yet by no reason aw'd. 
 
BOOK XXIV 91 
 
 He violates the laws of man and God ! " 
 
 " If equal lionours by the partial skies 70 
 
 Are doom'd both heroes," Juno thus replies, 
 " If Thetis' son must no distinction know, 
 Then hear, ye gods ! the patron of the bow. 
 But Hector only boasts a mortal claim. 
 His birth deriving from a mortal dame: 75 
 
 Achilles, of your own ethereal race, 
 Springs from a goddess, by a man's embrace 
 (A goddess by ourself to Peleus giv'n 
 A man divine, and chosen friend of heav'n) : 
 To grace those nuptials, from the bright abode ^ 
 
 Yourselves were present ; where this minstrel-god 
 (Well-pleas'd to share the feast) amid the quire 
 Stood proud to hymn, and tune his youthful lyre." 
 
 Then thus the Thund'rer checks th' imperial dame : 
 ^' Let not thy wrath the court of heav'n inflame ; 85 
 Their merits nor their honours are the same. 
 But mine, and ev'ry god's peculiar grace 
 Hector deserves, of all the Trojan race: 
 Still on our shrines his grateful off' rings lay 
 (The only honours men to gods can pay), 90 
 
 Nor ever from our smoking altar ceas'd 
 The pure libation, and the holy feast. 
 Howe'er, by stealth to snatch the corse away, 
 
92 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 We will not : Thetis guards it niglit and day. 
 
 But haste, and summon to our courts above 95 
 
 The azure° queen : let her persuasion move 
 
 Her furious son from Priam to receive 
 
 The proffer'd ransom, and the corse to leave." 
 
 He added not : and Iris° from the skies, 
 Swift as a whirlwind, on the message flies; 100 
 
 Meteorous the face of ocean sweeps, 
 Refulgent gliding o'er the sable deeps. 
 Between where Samos° wide his forests spreads, ' 
 And rocky Imbrus lifts its pointed heads, 
 Down plung'd the maid (the parted waves resound) ; 105 
 She plung'd, and instant shot the dark profound. 
 As, bearing death in the fallacious bait, 
 rrom° the bent angle sinks the leaden weight ; 
 So pass'd the goddess thro' the closing wave, 
 Where Thetis sorroAv'd in her secret cave : no 
 
 There plac'd amidst her melancholy train 
 (The blue-hair'd° sisters of the sacred main) 
 Pensive she sat, revolving fates to come. 
 And wept her godlike son's approaching doom. 
 
 Then thus the goddess of the painted bowT 115 
 
 " Arise, Thetis ! from thy seats below ; 
 'Tis Jove that calls." " And why," the dame replies, 
 " Calls Jove his Thetis to the hated skies ? 
 
BOOK XXIV 93 
 
 Sad object as I am for heav'nly sight ! 
 
 All ! ma}" my sorrows ever shun the light ! 120 
 
 Howe'er, be heav'n's almighty sire obey'd." 
 
 She spake, and veil'd her head in sable shade, 
 
 Which, flowing long, her graceful person clad ; 
 
 And forth she pac'd majestically sad. 
 
 Then through the world of waters they repair 125 
 (The way fair Iris led) to upper air. 
 The deeps dividing, o'er the coast they rise. 
 And touch with momentary flight the skies. 
 There in the light^ning's blaze the sire they found 
 And all the gods in shining synod round. 130 
 
 Thetis approach'd with anguish in her face 
 (Minerva rising gave the mourner place), 
 Ev'n Juno sought her sorrows to console, 
 And offer'd from her hand the nectar-bowl : 
 She tasted, and resign'd it : then began 135 
 
 The sacred sire of gods and mortal man : 
 
 " Thou com'st, fair Thetis, but with grief o'ercast. 
 Maternal sorrows, long, ah long to last ! 
 Suflice, we know and we partake thy cares : 
 But yield to fate, and hear what Jove declares. 140 
 Nine days are past, since all the court above 
 In Hector's cause have mov'd the ear of Jove ; 
 'Twas voted, Hermes from his godlike foe 
 
M POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 By stealth should bear Mm, but we will'd not so : 
 
 We will, thy son himself the corse restore, 145 
 
 And to his conquest add this glory° more. 
 
 Then hie thee to him, and our mandate bear ; 
 
 Tell him he tempts the wrath of heav'n too far : 
 
 Nor let him more (our anger if he dread) 
 
 Yent his sad vengeance on the sacred dead : 150 
 
 But yield to ransom and the father's pray'r. 
 
 The mournful father Iris shall prepare, 
 
 With gifts to sue, and offer to his hands 
 
 Whate'er his honour asks or heart demands." 
 
 His word the silver-footed queen attends, 155 
 
 And from Olympus' snowy tops descends. 
 Arriv'd, she heard the voice of loud lament. 
 And echoing groans that shook the lofty tent. 
 His friends prepare the victim, and dispose 
 Repast unheeded, while he vents his woes. 160 
 
 The goddess seats her by her pensive son ; 
 She press'd his hand, and tender thus begun : 
 
 " How long, unhappy ! shall thy sorrows flow. 
 And thy heart waste with life-consuming woe. 
 Mindless of food, or love, whose pleasing reign 165 
 Soothes weary life, and softens human pain ? 
 Oh snatch the moments yet within thy pow'r ; 
 Not long to live, indulge the am'rous hour ! 
 
BOOK XXIV 95 
 
 Lo ! Jove himself (for Jove's command I bear) 
 
 Forbids to tempt the wrath of heav'n too far. 170 
 
 Xo longer then (his fury if thou dread) 
 
 Detain the relics of great Hector dead ; 
 
 ISTor vent on senseless earth thy vengeance vain, 
 
 But yield to ransom, and restore the slain." 
 
 To whom Achilles : " Be the ransom giv'n, 175 
 
 And we submit, since such the will of heav'n." 
 
 While thus they commun'd, from th' Olympian bow'rs 
 Jove orders Iris to the Trojan tow'rs : 
 " Haste, winged goddess, to the sacred town, 
 And urge her monarch to redeem his son ; 180 
 
 Alone the Ilian ramparts let him leave, 
 And bear what stern Achilles may receive : 
 Alone, for so we will : no Trojan near. 
 Except, to place the dead with decent care. 
 Some aged herald, who, with gentle hand, 185 
 
 May the slow mules and fun'ral car command. 
 Nor let him death, nor let him danger dread, 
 Safe thro' the foe by our protection led : 
 Him Hermes to Achilles shall convey. 
 Guard of his life, and partner of his way. 190 
 
 Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare 
 His age, nor touch one venerable hair : 
 Some thought there must be in a soul so brave, 
 
9^ POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Some sense of duty, some desire to save." 
 
 Then down her bow the winged Iris drives, 195 
 
 And swift at Priam's mournful court arrives : 
 Where the sad sons beside their father's throne 
 Sate bathed in tears, and answer'd groan with groan. 
 And all amidst them lay the hoary sire 
 (Sad scene of woe !), his face his wrapp'd attire 200 
 Conceal'd from sight ; with frantic hands he spread 
 A show'r of ashes o'er his neck and head. 
 From room to room his pensive daughters roam : 
 Whose shrieks and clamours fill the vaulted dome ; 
 Mindful of those who, late their pride and joy, 205 
 
 Lie pale and breathless round the fields of Troy ! 
 Before the king Jove's messenger appears, 
 And thus in whispers greets his trembling ears : 
 
 " Fear not, father ! no ill news I bear 5 
 From Jove I come, Jove makes thee still his care ; 210 
 For Hector's sake these walls he bids thee leave. 
 And bear what stern Achilles may receive: 
 Alone, for so he wills : no Trojan near, 
 Except, to place the dead with decent care. 
 Some aged herald, who, with gentle hand, 215 
 
 May the slow mules and fun'ral car command. 
 jS'or shalt thou death, nor shalt thou danger dread, 
 Safe thro' the foe by his protection led : 
 
BOOK XXIV 97 
 
 Thee Hermes to Pelides shall convey, 
 
 Guard of thy life, and partner of thy way. 220 
 
 Fierce as he is, Achilles' self shall spare 
 
 Thy age, nor touch one venerable hair : 
 
 Some thought there must be in a soul so brave. 
 
 Some sense of duty, some desire to save.'^ 
 
 She spoke, and vanish'd. Priam bids prepare 225 
 His gentle mules, and harness to the car ; 
 There, for the gifts, a polish'd casket lay : 
 His pious sons the king's commands obey. 
 Then passed the monarch to his bridal-room, 
 Where cedar-beams the lofty roofs perfume, 230 
 
 And where the treasures of his empire lay; 
 Then call'd his queen, and thus began to say : 
 
 ^' Unhappy consort of a king distress'd ! 
 Partake the troubles of thy husband's breast : 
 I saw descend the messenger of Jove, ?35 
 
 Who bids me try Achilles' mind to move, 
 Forsake these ramparts, and with gifts obtain 
 The corse of Hector, at yon navy slain. 
 Tell me thy thought : my heart impels to go 
 Thro' hostile camps, and bears me to the foe^i' 240 
 
 The hoary monarch thus : her piercing cries 
 Sad Hecuba renews, and then replies : 
 ^' Ah ! whither wanders thy distemper'd mind ; 
 a 
 
98 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 And where the prudence now that aw'd mankind, 
 
 Thro' Phrygia once and foreign regions known ? 245 
 
 Now all confus'd, distracted, overthrown ! 
 
 Singly to pass thro' hosts of foes ! to face 
 
 (0 heart of steel !) the murd'rer of thy race ! 
 
 To view that deathful eye, and wander o'er 
 
 Those hands, yet red with Hector's noble gore ! 250 
 
 Alas ! my lord ! he knows not how to spare. 
 
 And what his mercy, thy slain sons declare ; 
 
 So brave ! so many fall'n ! To calm his rage 
 
 Vain were thy dignity, and vain thy age. 
 
 No — pent in this sad palace, let us give 255 
 
 To grief the wretched days we have to live. 
 
 Still, still for Hector let our sorrows flow, 
 
 Born to his own and to his parents' woe ! 
 
 Doom'd from the hour his luckless life begun. 
 
 To dogs, to vultures, and to Peleus' son ! 26c 
 
 Oh ! in his dearest blood might I allay 
 
 My rage, and these barbarities repay ! 
 
 For ah ! could Hector merit thus, whose breath 
 
 Expir'd not meanly in unactive death ? 
 
 He pour'd his latest blood in manly fight, 265 
 
 And fell a hero in his country's right." 
 
 " Seek not to stay me, nor my soul affright 
 With words of omen, like a bird of night," 
 
BOOK XXIV 99 
 
 Replied unmov'cl the venerable man : 
 
 ^' 'Tis heav'n commands me, and you urge in vain. 27a 
 
 Had any mortal voice th' injunction laid, 
 
 Nor augur, priest, nor seer had been obey'd. 
 
 A present goddess brought the high command : 
 
 I saw, I heard her, and the word shall stand. 
 
 I go, ye gods ! obedient to your call : 275 
 
 If in yon camp your pow'rs have doom'd my fall, 
 
 Content : by the same hand let me expire ! 
 
 Add to the slaughter'd son the wretched sire ! 
 
 One cold embrace at least ma}^ be allow'd, 
 
 And my last tears flow mingled with his blood I " 280 
 
 Forth from his open'd stores, this said, he drew 
 Twelve costly carpets of refulgent hue ; 
 As many vests, as many mantles told, 
 And twelve fair veils, and garments stiff with gold ; 
 Two tripods next, and twice two chargers" shine, 285 
 With ten pure talents from the richest mine ; 
 And last a large, well-labour'd bowl had place 
 (The pledge of treaties once with friendly Thrace) : 
 Seem'd all too mean the stores he could employ. 
 For one last look to buy him back to Troy ! 290 
 
 Lo ! the sad father, frantic with his pain, 
 Around him furious drives his menial train : 
 In vain each slave with duteous care attends, 
 
100 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Each° office hurts him, and each face offends. 
 
 '' What make ye here, officious crowds ! " he cries ; 295 
 
 " Hence, nor obtrude your anguish on my eyes. 
 
 Have ye no griefs at home, to fix ye there ? 
 
 Am I the only object of despair? 
 
 Am I become my people's common show, 
 
 Set up by Jove your spectacle of woe ? _ 300 
 
 No, you must feel him too : yourselves must fall ; 
 
 The same stern god to ruin gives you all : 
 
 Nor is great Hector lost by me alone ; 
 
 Your sole defence, your guardian pow'r, is gone ! 
 
 I see your blood the fields of Phrygia drown ; 305 
 
 I see the ruins of your smoking town ! 
 
 Oh send me, gods, ere that sad day shall come, 
 
 A willing ghost to Pluto's dreary dome ! " 
 
 He said, and feebly drives his friends away : 
 The sorrowing friends his frantic rage obey. 310 
 
 Next on his sons his erring° fury falls, 
 Polifes, Paris, Agathon, he calls ; 
 His threats Dei'phobus and Dius hear, 
 Hippothoiis, Pammon, Helenus the seer, 
 And gen'rous Antiphon ; for yet these nine 315 
 
 Surviv'd, sad relics of his num'rous line. 
 
 " Inglorious sons of an unhappy sire ! 
 Why did not all in Hector's cause expire ? 
 
BOOK XXIV 101 
 
 Wretch that I am ! my bravest offspring slain, 
 
 You, the disgrace of Priam's house, remain ! 320 
 
 Mestor the brave, renown'd in ranks of war. 
 
 With Troilus,° dreadful on his rushing car, 
 
 And last great Hector, more than man divine, 
 
 For sure he seem'd not of terrestrial line ! 
 
 All those relentless ]\Iars untimely slew, 325 
 
 And left me these, a soft and servile crew. 
 
 Whose days the feast and wanton dance employ. 
 
 Gluttons and flatt'rers, the contempt of Troy ! 
 
 Why teach ye not my rapid wheels to run, 
 
 And speed my journey to redeem my son ? " 330 
 
 The sons their father's wretched age revere, 
 Forgive his anger, and produce the car. 
 High on the seat the cabinet they bind : 
 The new-made caT with solid beauty shin'd : 
 Box was the yoke, emboss'd with costly pains, 335 
 
 And hung with ringlets° to receive the reins : 
 Nine cubits long, the traces swept the ground ; 
 These to the chariot's polish'd pole they bound. 
 Then fix'd a ring the running reins to guide. 
 And, close beneath, the gather'd ends were tied. 340 
 Next with the gifts (the price of Hector slain) 
 The sad attendants load the groaning wain : 
 Last to the yoke the well-match'd mules they bring 
 
102 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 (The gift of Mysia'to the Trojan king). 
 But the fair horses, long his darling care, 345 
 
 Himself receiv'd, and harness'd to his car : 
 Griev'd as he was, he not this task denied ; 
 The hoary herald help'd him at his side. 
 While careful these the gentle coursers join'd, 
 Sad Hecuba approach'd with anxious mind ; 350 
 
 A golden bowl, that foam'd with fragrant wine 
 (Libation destin'd to the pow'r divine), 
 Held in her right, before the steeds she stands, 
 And thus consigns it to the monarch's hands:- 354 
 " Take this, and pour to Jove ; that, safeffomharms, 
 His grace restore thee to our roof and arms. 
 Since, victor of thy fears, and slighting mine, 
 Heav'n or thy soul inspire this bold design. 
 Pray to that god° who, high on Ida's -brow, 
 Surveys thy desolated realms below, 360 
 
 His winged° messenger to send from high, 
 And lead the way with heav'nly augury : 
 Let the strong sov'reign of the plumy race 
 Tow'r on the right of yon ethereal space. 
 That sign beheld, and strengthen'd from above, 365 
 Boldly pursue the journey mark'd by Jove ; 
 But if the god his augury denies, 
 Suppress thy impulse, nor reject advice." 
 
BOOK XXIV 103 
 
 " 'Tis just/' said Priam, " to the sire above 
 To raise our hands ; for who so good as Jove ? " 370 
 
 He spoke, and bade th' attendant handmaid bring 
 The purest water of the living spring 
 (Her ready hands the ewer and bason held) ; 
 Then took the golden cup his queen had fill'd ; 
 On the mid° pavement pours the rosy wine, 375 
 
 Uplifts his eyes, and calls the pow'r divine : 
 
 '^0 first and greatest! heav'n's'imperial lord! 
 On lofty Ida's holy hill ador'd I 
 To stern Achilles now direct my ways, 
 And teach him mercy when a father prays. 2>%9 
 
 If such thy will, dispatch from yonder sky 
 Thy sacred bird, celestial augury ! 
 Let the strong sovereign of the plumy race 
 Tow'r on the right of yon ethereal space : 
 So shall thy suppliant, strengthen'd from above, 385 
 Fearless pursue the journey mark'd by Jove." 
 
 Jove heard his pray'r, and from the throne on high 
 Dispatch'd his bird, celestial augury ! 
 The swift-wing'd chaser of the feather'd game, 
 And known to gods by Percnos'° lofty name. 39c 
 
 "Wide as appears some palace-gate display'd, 
 So broad his pinions stretch'd their ample shade. 
 As, stooping dexter° with resounding wings. 
 
104 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Til' imperial bird descends in airy rings. 
 
 A dawn of joy in ev'ry face appears; 395 
 
 The mourning matron dries her tim'rous tears. 
 
 Swift on his car th' impatient monarch sprung; 
 
 The brazen portal in his passage rung. 
 
 The mules preceding draw the loaded wain, 
 
 Charg'd with the gifts ; Idaeus holds the rein : 400 
 
 The king himself his gentle steeds controls, 
 
 And thro' surrounding friends the chariot rolls : 
 
 On his slow wheels the following people wait, 
 
 Mourn at each step, and give him up to fate; 
 
 With hands uplifted, eye him as he pass'd, 405 
 
 And gaze upon him as they gaz'd their last. 
 
 Now forward fares the father on his way, 
 Thro' the lone fields, and back to Ilion they. 
 Great Jove beheld him as he cross'd the plain. 
 And felt the woes of miserable man. 410 
 
 Then thus to Hermes : " Thou, whose constant cares 
 Still succour mortals, and attend their pray'rs ! 
 Behold an object to thy charge consign'd ; 
 If ever pity touch'd thee for mankind, 
 Go, guard the sire ; th' observing foe prevent, 415 
 
 And safe conduct him to Achilles' tent." 
 
 The god obeys, his golden pinions binds, 
 And mounts incumbent" on the wings of winds, 
 
BOOK XXIV 105 
 
 That high thro' fiekls of air his flight sustain, 
 
 O'er the wide earth, and o'er the boundless main : 420 
 
 Then grasps the wand that causes sleep to fly, 
 
 Or in soft slumbers seals the wakeful eye : 
 
 Thus arm'd, swift Hermes steers his airy way, 
 
 And stoops on Hellespont's resounding sea. 
 
 A beauteous youth, majestic and divine, 425 
 
 He seem'd ; fair offspring of some princely line ! 
 
 Now twilight veil'd the glaring face of day. 
 
 And clad the dusky fields in sober grey ; 
 
 What time the herald and the hoary king, 
 
 Their chariot stopping at the silver° spring, 430 
 
 That circling Ilus'° ancient marble flows, 
 
 AUow'd their mules and steeds a short repose. 
 
 Thro' the dim shade the herald first espies 
 
 A man's approach, and thus to Priam cries : 
 
 '' I mark some foe's advance : king ! beware ; 435 
 
 This hard adventure claims thy utmost care ; 
 
 For much I fear destruction hovers nigh : 
 
 Our state asks counsel. Is it best to fly ? 
 
 Or, old and helpless, at his feet to fall^ 
 
 (Two wretched suppliants), and for mercy call ? " 440 
 
 Th' afflicted monarch shiver'd with despair ; 
 Pale grew his face, and upright stood his hair; 
 Sunk was his heart ; his colour went and came j 
 
106 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 A sudden trembling shook his aged frame : 
 
 When Hermes, greeting, touch'd his royal hand, 445 
 
 Andj^entle, thus accosts with kind demand : 
 
 "^^^y whither, father ! when each mortal sight 
 Is seal'd in sleep, thou wander'st thro' the night. 
 Why roam thy mules and steeds the plains along. 
 Thro' Grecian foes, so num'rous and so strong ? 450 
 What couldst thou hope, should these thy treasures 
 
 view, 
 These, who with endless hate thy race pursue ? 
 For what defence, alas ! couldst thou provide. 
 Thyself not young, a weak old man thy guide ? 
 Yet suffer not thy soul to sink with dread; 455 
 
 Erom me no harm shall touch thy rev'rend head : 
 Prom Greece I'll guard thee too ; for in those lines° 
 The living image of my father shines." 
 
 " Thy words, that speak benevolence of mind, 
 Are true, my son! " the godlike sire rejoin'd : 460 
 
 " Great are my hazards ; but the gods survey 
 My steps, and send thee guardian of my way. 
 Hail ! and be blest ! for scarce of mortal kind 
 Appear thy form, thy feature, and thy mind." 
 
 '• Nor true are all thy words, nor erring wide," 465 
 The sacred messenger of heav'n replied : 
 *' But say, convey'st thou thro' the lonely plains 
 
BOOK XXIV 107 
 
 What yet most precious of thy store remains, 
 To lodge ill safety with some friendly hand, 
 Prepar'd perchance to leave thy native land ? 470 
 
 Or fly'st thou now ? What hopes can Troy retain, 
 Thy matchless son, her guard and glory, slain ? " 
 
 The king, alarm'd : " Say what, and whence thou art, 
 Who search the sorrows of a parent's heart, 
 And know so well how godlike Hector died."' 475 
 
 Thus Priam spoke, and Hermes thus replied: 
 
 " You tempt me, father, and with pity touch : 
 On this sad subject you enquire too much. 
 Oft have these eyes the godlike Hector view'd 
 In glorious fight, with Grecian blood embru'd : 480 
 
 1 saw him when, like Jove, his flames he toss'd 
 On thousand ships, and wither'd half a host : 
 I saw, but help'd not ; stern Achilles' ire 
 Forbade assistance, and enjoy 'd the fire. 
 For him T serve, of Myrmidonian race ; 485 
 
 One ship convey'd us from our native place ; 
 Polyctor is my sire, an honour'd name, 
 Old, like thyself, and not unknown to fame ; 
 Of sev'n his sons, by whom the lot was cast 
 To serve our prince, it fell on me the last. 490 
 
 To watch this quarter m}-" adventure falls ; 
 For with the morn the Greeks attack your walls ; 
 
108 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Sleepless they sit, impatient to engage, 
 
 And scarce their rulers check their martial rage." 
 
 " If then thou art of stern Pelicles' train " 495 
 
 (The mournful monarch thus rejoin'd again), 
 " Ah, tell me truly, where, oh ! where are laid 
 My son's dear relics ? what befalls him dead ? 
 Have dogs dismember'd on the naked plains, 
 Or yet unmangled rest his cold remains ? " 500 
 
 " favour'd of the skies ! " thus answer'd then 
 The pow'r that mediates between gods and men, 
 " Xor dogs nor vultures have thy Hector rent, 
 But whole he lies, neglected in the tent : 
 This the twelfth ev'ning since he rested there, 505 
 
 Untouch'd by worms, untainted by the air. 
 Still as Aurora's ruddy beam is spread, 
 Kound his friend's tomb Achilles drags the dead ; 
 Yet undisfigur'd, or in limb or face. 
 All fresh he lies, with ev'ry living grace, 510 
 
 Majestical in death! No stains are found 
 O'er all the corse, and clos'd is ev'ry wound ; 
 Tho' many a wound they gave. Some heav'nly care, 
 Some hand divine, preserves him ever fair : 
 Or all the host of heav'n, to whom he led 515 
 
 A life so grateful, still regard him dead." 
 
 Thus spoke to Priam the celestial guide, 
 
BOOK xxiv 109 
 
 And joyful thus the royal sire replied : 
 " Bless'd is the man who pays the gods above 
 The constant tribute of respect and love ! 520 
 
 Those who inhabit the Olympian bow'r 
 ^ly son forgot not, in exalted pow'r ; 
 * And heav'n, that ev'ry virtue bears in mind, 
 Ev'n to the ashes of the just is kind. 
 But thou, gen'rous youth ! this goblet take, 525 
 
 A pledge of gratitude for Hector's sake ; 
 And while the fav'ring gods our steps survey, 
 Safe to Pelides' tent conduct my way." 
 
 To whom the latent god : '' king, forbear 
 To tempt my youth, for apt is youth to err : 530 
 
 But can I, absent from my prince's sight, 
 Take gifts in secret, that must shun the light ? 
 What from our master's int'rest thus we draw 
 Is but a licens'd theft that 'scapes the law. 
 Kespecting him, my soul abjures th' offence ; 535 
 
 And, as the crime, I dread the consequence. 
 Thee, far as Argos, pleas'd I could convey ; 
 Guard of thy life, and partner of thy way : 
 On thee attend, thy safet}' to maintain, 
 O'er pathless forests, or the roaring maim^^,,****^ 54a 
 
 He said, then took the chariot at a bound. 
 And snatch'd the reins, and whirl'd the lash around : 
 
110 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 Before th' inspiring god that urg'd them on 
 
 The coursers fly, with spirit not their own. 
 
 And now they reach'd the naval walls, and found 545 
 
 The guards repasting, while the bowls go round : 
 
 On these the virtue of his wand he tries, 
 
 And pours deep slumber on their watchful eyes : 
 
 Then heav'd the massy gates, remov'd the bars, 
 
 And o'er the trenches led the rolling cars. 55c 
 
 Unseen, thro' all the hostile camp they went, 
 
 And now approach'd Pelides' lofty tent." 
 
 Of fir the roof was rais'd, and cover'd o'er 
 
 With reeds collected from the marshy shore ; 
 
 And, fenc'd with palisades, a hall of state 555 
 
 (The work of soldiers), where the hero sate. 
 
 Large was the door, whose well-compacted strength 
 
 A solid pine-tree barr'd of wond'rous length ; 
 
 Scarce three strong Greeks could lift its mighty weight, 
 
 But great Achilles singly clos'd the gate. 560 
 
 This Hermes (such the pow'r of gods) set wide ; 
 
 Then swift alighted the celestial guide. 
 
 And thus, reveal'd : " Hear, prince ! and understand 
 
 Thou ow'st thy guidance to no mortal hand ; 
 
 Hermes I am, descended from above, 565 
 
 The king of arts, the messenger of Jove. 
 
 Farewell : to shun Achilles' sight I fly ; 
 
BOOK XXIV 111 
 
 Uncommon are such favours of the sky, 
 
 Nor stand confess'd to frail mortality. 
 
 Now fearless enter, and prefer thy pray'rs ; 370 
 
 Adjure him by his father's silver hairs, 
 
 His son,'' bis mother ! urge him to bestow 
 
 AYhatever pity that stern heart can know."^- 
 
 Thus having said, he vanish'd from his eyes, 
 And in a moment shot into the skies : 575 
 
 The king, confirm'd from heav'n, alighted there, 
 And left his aged herald on the car. 
 With solemn pace thro' various rooms he went. 
 And found Achilles in his inner tent : 
 There sate the hero ; Alcimus the brave, 580 
 
 And great Automedori, attendance gave; 
 These serv'd his person at the royal feast; 
 Around, at awful distance, stood the rest. 
 
 Unseen by these, the king his entry made ; 
 And, prostrate now before Achilles laid, 585 
 
 Sudden° (a venerable sight!) appears; 
 Embrac'd his knees, and bath'd his hands in tears ; 
 Those direful hands his kisses press'd, embru'd 
 Ev'n with the best, the dearest of his blood ! 
 
 As when a wretch (who, conscious of his crime, 590 
 Pursu'd for murder flies his native clime) 
 Just gains some frontier, breathless, pale, amaz"d! 
 
112 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 All gaze, all wonder: thus Achilles gaz'd: 
 
 Thus stood th' attendants stupid with surprise : 
 
 All mute, yet seem'd to question with their eyes : 595 
 
 Each look'd on other, none the silence broke. 
 
 Till thus at last the kingly suppliant spoke: 
 
 " Ah° think, thou f avour'd of the pow'rs divine ! 
 Think of thy father's age, and pity mine ! 
 In me, that father's rev'rend image trace, 600 
 
 Those silver hairs, that venerable face ; 
 His trembling limbs, his helpless person, see ! 
 In all my equal, but in misery ! 
 Yet now, perhaps, some turn of human fate 
 Expels him helpless from his peaceful state; 605 
 
 Think, from some pow'rful foe thou see'st him fly. 
 And beg protection with a feeble cry. 
 Yet still one comfort in his soul may rise ; 
 He hears his son still lives to glad his eyes; 
 And, hearing, still may hoj)e a better day 610 
 
 May send him thee, to chase that foe away. 
 Xo comfort to my griefs, no hopes remain. 
 The best, the bravest, of my sons are slain ! 
 Yet what a race ! ere Greece to Ilion came, 
 The pledge of many a lov'd and loving dame! 615 
 
 Nineteen one mother bore — dead, all are dead ! 
 How oft, alas ! has wretched Priam bled ! 
 
^OOK XXIV 113 
 
 Still one was left, their loss to recompense ; 
 
 His father's hope, his country's last defence. 
 
 Him too thy rage has slain ! beneath th}^ steel, 620 
 
 Unhappy, in his country's cause, he fell ! 
 
 For him thro' hostile camps I bent my way. 
 
 For him thus prostrate at thy feet I lay ; 
 
 Large gifts, proportion' cl to thy wrath, I bear: 
 
 Oh, hear the wretched, and the gods revere! 625 
 
 Think of thy father, and this face behold ! 
 
 See him in me, as helpless and as old; 
 
 Tho' not so wretched: there he yields to me. 
 
 The first of men in sov' reign misery : 
 
 Thus forc'd to kneel, thus grov'ling to embrace 630 
 
 The scourge and ruin of my realm and race : 
 
 Suppliant my children's murd'rer to implore. 
 
 And kiss those hands yet reeking with their gore ! " 
 
 These words soft pity in the chief inspire, 
 Touch'd with the dear rememb'rance of his sire. 635 
 Then with his hand (as prostrate still he lay) 
 The old man's cheek he gently turn'd away. 
 Now each by turns indulg'd the gush of woe; 
 And now the mingled tides together flow : 
 This low on earth, that gently bending o'er, 640 
 
 A father one, and one a son deplore : 
 But great Achilles diff'rent passions rend, 
 
114 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 And now his sire he mourns, and now his friend- 
 Th' infectious softness thro' the heroes ran ; ; 
 
 One universal solemn show'r began; 645 
 
 They bore as heroes, but they felt as man. 
 
 Satiate at length with unavailing woes, 
 From the high throne divine Achilles rose ; 
 The rev'rend monarch by the hand he rais'd; 
 On his white beard and form majestic gaz'd, 650 
 
 Not unrelenting : then serene began 
 With words to soothe the miserable m_an » 
 
 " Alas ! what weight of anguish hast*^^ known. 
 Unhappy prince ! thus guardless and alone 
 To pass thro' foes, and thus undaunted face 655 
 
 The man whose fury has destroy'd thy race! 
 Heav'n sure has arm'd thee with a heart of steel, 
 A strength proportion'd to the woes you feel. 
 Rise then : let reason mitigatejour care : 
 To mourn avails not : man is born to bear. 660 
 
 Such is, alas ! the gods' severe decree ; 
 They, only they are blest, and only free. ^^^ 
 
 Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood, 
 The source of evil one, and one of good ; 
 From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, 665 
 
 Blessings to these, to those distributes ills : 
 
 ) 
 
 To most he mingles both : the wretch decreed 
 
BOOK XXIV 115 
 
 To taste the bad unmix'd, is curs' d indeed : 
 
 Pursu'd by wrongs, by meagre famine driv'n, 
 
 He wanders, outcast both of earth and heav'n. 670 
 
 The happiest tast^ not happiness sincere, 
 
 But find the cordial draught is dash'd with care. ^ 
 
 \Mio more than Peleus shone in wealth and pow'r ? 
 
 \Yhat stars concurring bless'd his natal hour ! 
 
 A realm, a goddess, to his wishes giv'n, 675 
 
 Grac'd by the gods with all the gifts of heav'n ! 
 
 One evil, yet, o'ertakes his latest day ; 
 
 No race succeeding to imperial sway : 
 
 An only son ! and he (alas I) ordain'd 
 
 To fall untimely in a foreign land ! 680 
 
 See him, in Troy, the pious care decline 
 
 Of his weak age, to live the curse of thine ! 
 
 Thou too, old man, hast happier days beheld; 
 
 In riches once, in children once excell'd; 
 
 Extended Phrygia own'd thy ample reign, 685 
 
 And all fair Lesbos" blissful seats contain, 
 
 And all wide Hellespont's unmeasur'd main. 
 
 But since the god his hand has pleas'd to turn, 
 
 And fill thy measure from his bitter urn, 
 
 What sees the sun but hapless heroes' falls ? 690 
 
 War and the blood of men surround th}^ walls ! 
 
 What must be, must be. Bear thy lot, nor shed 
 
116 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 These unavailing sorrows o'er the dead ; 
 
 Thou canst not call him from the Stygian shore, 
 
 But thou, alas ! niayst live to suffer more ! " 695 
 
 To whom the king : " O favour's, of the skies ! 
 Here let me grow to earth ! since Hector lies 
 On the bare beach, depriv'd of obsequies. 
 Oh, give me Hector I to my eyes restore 
 His corse, and take the gifts : I ask no more ! 700 
 
 Thou, as thou mayst, these boundless stores enjoy; 
 Safe mayst thou sail, and turn thy wrath from Troy ; 
 So shall thy pitj^ and forbearance give 
 A weak old man to see the light and live ! " 
 
 " Move me no more," Achilles thus replies, 705 
 
 While kindling anger sparkled in his eyes, 
 " Nor seek by tears my steady soul to bend. 
 To yield thy Hector I myself intend : 
 For know, from Jove my goddess-mother came 
 (Old Ocean's daughter, silver-footed dame) ; " 710 
 
 Nor com'st thou but by heav'n; nor com'st alone; 
 Some god impels with courage not thy own : 
 No human hand the weighty gates unbarr'd, 
 Nor could the boldest of our youth have dar'd 
 To pass our out-Avorks, or elude the guard. 715 
 
 Cease; lest, neglectful of high Jove's command, 
 I show thee, king ! thou tread'st on hostile land ; 
 
BOOK XXIV 117 
 
 Release my knees, thy suppliant arts give o'er, 
 And shake the purpose of my soul no more." 
 
 The sire obey'd him, trembling and o'eraw'd. 720 
 Achilles, like a lion, rush'd abroad ; 
 Automedon and Alcimus attend. 
 Whom most he honour'd since he lost his friend ; 
 These to unyoke the mules and horses went, 
 And led the hoary herald to the tent : 725 
 
 Next, heap'd on high, the num'rous presents bear 
 (Great Hector's ransom) from the polish'd car. 
 Two splendid mantles, and a carpet spread. 
 They leave, to cover and in wrap the dead: 
 Then call the handmaids, with assistant toil 730 
 
 To wash the body, and anoint with oil. 
 Apart from Priam ; lest th' unhappy sire, 
 Provok'd to passion, once more rouse to ire 
 The stern Pelicles ; and nor sacred age 
 Xor Jove's command should check the rising rage. 735 
 This done, the garments o'er the corse they spread; 
 Achilles lifts it to the f un'ral bed : 
 Then, while the body on the car they laid. 
 He groans, and calls on lov'd Patroclus' shade : 
 
 " If, in that gloom which never light must know. 740 
 The deeds of mortals touch the ghosts below ; 
 friend ! forgive me, that I thus fulfil 
 
118 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 (Restoring Hector) heaven's miquestion'd will. 
 
 The gifts the father gave, be ever thine, 
 
 To grace thy nianes,° and adorn thy shrine." 745 
 
 He said, and, ent'ring, took his seat of state, 
 Where full before him rev'rend Priam sate : 
 To whom, compos'd, the godlike chief begun : 
 " Lo ! to thy pray'r restor'd, thy breathless son ; 
 Extended on the fun'ral couch he lies ; . 750 
 
 And, soon as morning paints the eastern skies. 
 The sight is granted to thy longing eyes. 
 But now the peaceful hours of sacred night 
 Demand refection, and to rest invite: 
 Nor thou, father ! thus consum'd with woe, 755 
 
 The common cares that nourish life forego. 
 Xot thus did Niobe,° of form divine, 
 A parent once, whose sorrows equall'd thine : 
 Six youthful sons, as many blooming maids, 
 In one sad day beheld the Stygian shades : 760 
 
 Those by Apollo's silver bow were slain. 
 These Cynthia's" arrows stretch'd upon the plain. 
 So was her pride chastis'd by wrath divine, 
 Who match'd her own with bright Latona's line ; 
 But two the goddess, twelve the queen enjoy'd; 765 
 Those boasted twelve th' avenging two destroy'd. 
 Steep'd in their blood, and in t'he dust outspread, 
 
BOOK XXIV 119 
 
 Nine days neglected lay expos'd the dead ; 
 
 Xone by to weep them, to inhume° them none 
 
 (For Jove had turned the nation all to stone) ; 770 
 
 The gods themselves, at length, relenting, gave 
 
 Th' unhappy race the honours of a grave. 
 
 Herself ° a rock (for such was heav'n's high will) 
 
 Thro' deserts wild now pours a weeping rill ; 
 
 Where round the bed whence Achelolis springs, 775 
 
 The wat'ry fairies dance in mazy rings : 
 
 There, high on Sipylus's shady brow. 
 
 She stands, her own sad monument of woe ; 
 
 The rock for ever lasts, the tears for ever flow. 
 
 Such griefs, king ! have other parents known : 7S0 
 
 Eemember theirs, and mitigate thy own. 
 
 The care of heav'n thy Hector has appear'd ; 
 
 Xor shall he lie unwept and uninterr'd ; 
 
 Soon may thy aged cheeks in tears be drown'd, 
 
 And all the eyes of Ilion stream around." 785 
 
 He said, and, rising, chose the victim ewe 
 With silver fleece, which his attendants slew. 
 The limbs they sever from the reeking hide, 
 With skill prepare them, and in parts divide : 
 Each on the coals the sep'rate morsels lays, 790 
 
 And hasty snatches from the rising blaze. 
 With bread the giitt'ring canisters they load, 
 
120 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 Which round the board Automedon bestow'd : 
 
 The chief himself to each his portion plac'd, 
 
 And each indulging shar'd in sweet repast. 795 
 
 When now the rage of hunger was repress'd, 
 
 The wond'ring hero eyes his royal guest ; 
 
 No less the royal guest the hero eyes, 
 
 His godlike aspect and majestic size ; 
 
 Here youthful grace and noble fire engage, 800 
 
 And there the mild benevolence of age. 
 
 Thus gazing long, the silence neither broke 
 
 (A solemn scene !) ; at length the father spoke : 
 
 " Permit me now, belov'd of Jove, to steep 
 My careful temples in the dew" of sleep : 805 
 
 For since the day that number 'd with the dead 
 My hapless son, the dust has been my bed ; 
 Soft sleep a stranger to my weeping eyes. 
 My only food, my sorrows and my sighs ! 
 Till now, encourag'd by the grace you give, 810 
 
 I share thy banquet, and consent to live."/ 
 
 With that, Achilles bade prepare the be"^ 
 With purple soft and shaggy carpets spread ; 
 Forth, by the flaming lights, they bend their way. 
 And place the couches, and the cov'rings lay. 815 
 
 Then he : " Now, father, sleep, but sleep not here, 
 Consult tiiy safety, and forgive my fear, 
 
BOOK XXIV 121 
 
 Lest any Argive (at this liour awake, 
 
 To ask our counsel or our orders take), 
 
 ApproacMng sudden to our open tent, 820 
 
 Perchance behold thee, and our grace prevent. 
 
 Should such report thy honour'd person here. 
 
 The king of men the ransom might defer. 
 
 But say with speed, if aught of thy desire 
 
 Remains unask'd, what time the rites require 825 
 
 T' inter thy Hector. For, so long we stay 
 
 Our slaught'ring arm, and bid the hosts obey." 
 
 " If then thy will permit," the monarch said, 
 " To finish all due honours to the dead. 
 This, of thy grace, accord : to thee are known 830 
 
 The fears of Ilion, clos'd within her town ; 
 And at what distance from our walls aspire 
 The hills of Ide, and forests for the fire. 
 Nine days to vent our sorrows I request. 
 The tenth shall see the fun'ral and the feast ; 835 
 
 The next, to raise his monument be giv'n ; 
 The twelfth we war, if war be doom'd by heav'n ! " 
 
 "This thy request," replied the chief, "enjoy : 
 Till then our arms suspend the fall of Troy." 
 Then gave his hand at parting, to prevent 840 
 
 The old man's fears, and turn'd within the tent ; 
 Where fair Briseis, bright in blooming charms, 
 
122 POPE^S ILIAD 
 
 Expects her hero with desiring arms. 
 
 But in the porch the king and herald rest, 
 
 Sad dreams of care yet wand'ring in their breast. 845 
 
 Now gods and men the gifts of sleep partake ; 
 Industrious Hermes only was awake, 
 The king's return revolving in his mind, 
 To pass the ramparts and the watch to blind. 
 The pow'r descending hover'd o'er his head, 850 
 
 And, " Sleep'st thou, father ? " (thus the vision said) 
 " Now dost thou sleep, when Hector is restor'd ? 
 Kor fear the Grecian foes or Grecian lord ? 
 Thy presence here should stern Atrides see. 
 Thy still-surviving sons may sue for thee ; 855 
 
 JNIay offer all thy treasures yet contain. 
 To spare thy age ; and offer all in vain." 
 
 Wak'd with the word, the trembling sire arose. 
 And rais'd his friend : the god before him goes : 
 He joins the mules, directs them with his hand, 860 
 And moves in silence thro' the hostile land. 
 When now to Xanthus' yellow stream they drove 
 (Xanthus, immortal progeny of Jove), 
 The winged deity forsook their view, 
 And in a moment to Olympus flew. 865 
 
 Now shed Aurora round her saffron ray. 
 Sprung thro' the gates of light, and gave the day. 
 
BOOK XXIV 123 
 
 Charged with tlieir mournful load, to Ilion go 
 
 The sage and king, majestically slow. 
 
 Cassandra first beholds, from Ilion's spire, 870 
 
 The sad procession of her hoary sire ; 
 
 Then, as the pensive pomp advanc'd more near 
 
 (Her breathless brother stretch'd upon the bier), 
 
 A show'r of tears o'erflows her beauteous eyes. 
 
 Alarming thus all Ilion with her cries : 875 
 
 " Turn here your steps, and here your eyes employ, 
 Ye wretched daughters and ye sons of Troy ! 
 If e'er ye rush'd in crowds, with vast delight. 
 To hail your hero glorious from the fight ; 
 Now meet him dead, and let your sorrows flow ! 880 
 Your common triumph and your common woe." 
 
 In thronging crowds they issue to the plains, 
 Xor man nor Avoman in the walls remains : 
 In ev'ry face the self-same grief is shown. 
 And Troy sends forth one universal groan. 885 
 
 At Scsea's gates, they meet the mourning wain, 
 Hang on the wheels, and grovel round the slain. 
 The wife and mother, frantic with despair, 
 Kiss his pale cheek, and rend their scatter'd hair ; 
 Thus wildly wailing, at the gates they lay ; 890 
 
 And there had sigh'd and sorrow'd out the day ; 
 But godlike Priam from the chariot rose ; 
 
124 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 " Forbear," he cried, " this violence of woes ; 
 
 First to the palace let the car proceed, 
 
 Then pour your boundless sorrows o'er the dead." 895 
 
 The waves of people at his w^ord divide ; 
 Slow rolls the chariot thro' the following tide : 
 Ev'n to the palace the sad pomp they wait : 
 They weep, and place him on the bed of state. 
 A melancholy choir attend around, 900 
 
 AVith plaintive sighs and music's solemn sound : 
 Alternately they sing, alternate flow 
 Th' obedient tears, melodious in their woe ; 
 While deeper sorrows groan from each full heart, 
 And nature speaks at ev'ry pause of art. 905 
 
 First° to the corse the weeping consort flew ; 
 Around his neck her milk-w^hite arms she threw : 
 And, " my Hector ! my lord ! " she cries, 
 " Snatch'd in thy bloom from these desiring eyes ! 
 Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone ! 910 
 
 And I abandon' d, desolate, alone ! 
 An only son, once comfort of our pains, 
 Sad product now of hapless love, remains ! 
 Never to manly age that son shall rise, 
 Or with increasing graces glad my eyes; 915 
 
 For Ilion now (her great defender slain) 
 Shall sink, a smoking ruin, on the plain. 
 
BOOK XXIV 125 
 
 Who now protects lier wives with guardian care ? 
 
 Who saves her infants from the rage of war ? 
 
 Xow hostile fleets must waft those infants o'er 920 
 
 (Those wives must wait 'em) to a foreign shore ! 
 
 Thou too, my son ! to barb'rous climes shalt go, 
 
 The sad companion of thy mother's woe ; 
 
 Driv'n hence a slave before the victor's sword, 
 
 Condemn'd to toil for some inhuman lord : 925 
 
 Or else some Greek, whose father press'd the plain. 
 
 Or son, or brother, by great Hector slain, 
 
 In Hector's blood his vengeance shall enjoy. 
 
 And hurl thee headlong from the tow'rs of Troy. 
 
 For th}^ stern father never spar'd a foe : 930 
 
 Thence all these tears, and all this scene of woe ! 
 
 Thence many evils his sad parents bore, 
 
 His parents many, but his consort more. 
 
 Why° gav'st thou not to me thy dying hand ? 
 
 And why receiv'd not I thy last command ? 935 
 
 Some word thou wouldst have spoke, which, sadly dear, 
 
 My soul might keep, or utter with a tear ; 
 
 Which never, never could be lost in air, 
 
 Fix'd in my heart, and oft repeated there I " 
 
 Thus to her weeping maids she makes her moan : 940 
 Her weeping handmaids echo groan for groan. 
 
 The mournful mother next sustains her part : 
 
126 POPU'S ILIAD 
 
 " thou, the best, the dearest of my heart ! 
 
 Of all my race thou most by heav'n approv'd, 
 And by th' immortals ev'n in death belov'd ! 945 
 
 While all my other sons in barb'rous bands 
 Achilles bound, and sold to foreign lands, 
 This felt no chains, but went, a glorious ghost, 
 Pree and a hero, to the Stygian coast. 
 Sentenc'd, ^tis true, by his inhuman doom, 950 
 
 Thy noble corse was dragg'd around the tomb 
 (The tomb of him thy warlike arm had slain) ; 
 Ungen'rous insult, impotent and vain ! 
 Yet glow'st thou fresh with ev'ry living grace, 
 No mark of pain, or violence of face ; 955 
 
 Eosy and fair ! as Phcebus' silver bow 
 Dismiss'd thee gently to the shades below ! " 
 
 Thus spoke the dame, and melted into tears. 
 Sad Helen next in pomp of grief appears : 
 Fast from the shining sluices of her eyes 960 
 
 Fall the round crystal drops, while thus she cries : 
 " Ah,° dearest friend! in whom the gods had join'd 
 The mildest manners with the bravest Qiind ! 
 Now twice ten years (unhaj)py years) are o'er 
 Since Paris brought me to the Trojan shore 965 
 
 (Oh had I perish'd, ere that form divine 
 Seduc'd this soft, this easy heart of mine !) ; 
 
BOOK XXtV 127 
 
 Yet was it ne'er my fate from thee to find 
 
 A deed ungentle, or a word unkind : 
 
 When others curs'd the auth'ress of their woe, 970 
 
 Thy pity check'd my sorrows in their flow : 
 
 If some proud brother ey'd me with disdain, 
 
 Or scornful sister with her sweeping train. 
 
 Thy gentle accents soften'd all my pain. 
 
 For thee I mourn ; and mourn myself in thee, 975 
 
 The wretched source of all this misery ! 
 
 The fate I caus'd, for ever I bemoan ; 
 
 Sad Helen has no friend, now thou art gone ! 
 
 Thro' Troy's wide streets abandon'd shall I roam, 
 
 In Troy deserted, as abhorr'd at home I " 9S0 
 
 So spoke the fair, with sorrow-streaming eye : 
 Distressful beauty rhelts each stander-by ; 
 On all around th' infectious sorrow grows ; 
 But Priam check'd the torrent as it rose : 
 "Perform, ye Trojans I what the rites require, 985 
 
 And fell the forests for a fun'ral pyre I 
 Twelve days nor foes nor secret ambush dread ; 
 Achilles grants these honours to the dead." 
 
 He spoke ; and at his word the Trojan train 
 Their mules and oxen harness to the wain, 99a 
 
 Pour thro' the gates, and, fell'd from Ida's crown, 
 Poll back the gathered forests to the town. 
 
128 POPE'S ILIAD 
 
 These toils continue nine succeeding days, 
 
 And high in air a sylvan structure raise. 
 
 But when the tenth fair morn began to shine, 995 
 
 Forth to the pile was borne the man divine, 
 
 And plac'd aloft : while all, with streaming eyes. 
 
 Beheld the flames and rolling smokes arise. 
 
 "^DOOiTas Aurora, daughter of the dawn, 
 
 With rosy lustre streak'd the dewy lawn, 1000 
 
 Again the mournful crowds surround the pyre. 
 
 And quench with wine the yet-remaining fire. 
 
 The snowy bones his friends and brothers place 
 
 (With tears collected) in a golden vase ; 
 
 The golden vase in purple palls they roll'd, 1005 
 
 Of softest texture and inwrought with gold. 
 
 Last, o'er the urn the sacred earth they spread. 
 
 And rais'd the tomb, memorial of the dead 
 
 (Strong guards and spies, till all the rites were done, 
 
 Watch'd from the rising to the setting sun). loio 
 
 All Troy then moves to Priam's court again, 
 
 A solemn, silent, melancholy train : 
 
 Assembled there, from pious toil they rest. 
 
 And sadly shar'd the last sepulchral feast. 
 
 Such° honours Ilion to her hero paid, 1015 
 
 And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade. 
 
NOTES 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 Iliad. Poem about Ilion, or Troy. A form of title often 
 given to an epic poem. Cf. ^neid, Bolliad, Columbiad, Dun- 
 ciad, etc. 
 
 1. Achilles' wrath. The anger of Achilles is proposed by 
 the poet himself as the subject of his poem. Mijviv, meaning 
 wrath, is tne first word of the poem. The poet begins with the 
 wrath of Achilles, because it gave a decided impulse to the 
 events of the war and hastened the catastrophe. It brought 
 upon the Greeks a train of disasters, ending with the death of 
 Patroclus, the beloved friend of Achilles, which drew him forth 
 from his retirement, to exact a bloody vengeance from Hector 
 and the Trojans. The purpose of Jove was to bring about the 
 destruction of Troy by the fall of Hector, etc. And the will of 
 Jove was accomplishing from the time when Atrides, King of 
 Men, and the divine Achilles parted, having quarrelled. (Eelton. ) 
 
 2. goddess : the muse. The poet, inspired by the gods, in- 
 vokes the aid of the Epic Muse. The "nine muses" are not 
 mentioned by Homer, although the muses appear in the plural 
 in several places. According to Hesiod they are the daughters 
 
 K 129 
 
130 NOTES 
 
 of Zeus and Memory, "a transiDarent allegory of the inspiration 
 needed by a poet who does not write, but has to compose and 
 recite his song by heart." (Leaf.) 
 
 3. Pluto. The god of the underworld, the abode of the dead. 
 
 4. reign. The territory of a sovereign, realm. 
 
 5. unburied. The souls of the unburied dead were supposed 
 to wander upon the banks of the Styx. 
 
 "Behold a ghastly band, 
 
 Each a torch in his hand ! 
 
 Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle 
 
 were slain, 
 
 And unburied remain 
 
 Inglorious on the plain." 
 
 — Alexander's Feast. 
 
 7. Atrides. Agamemnon, son of Atreus ; so Achilles is 
 called Pelides, son of Peleus ; and Diomedes is called Tydides, 
 son of Tydeus. 
 
 8. Observe the change of metre in the introduction of this 
 Alexandrine. 
 
 11. Latona's son. Apollo, the tutelary deity of the Dorians. 
 The Dorians had not at this time become the predominant race 
 In Greece. Throughout the Iliad Apollo acts splendidly and 
 effectively, but always against the Greeks, from mere partiality 
 to Hector. 
 
 13. king of men. Agamemnon. 
 
 13. rev'rend priest : Chryses, 
 
 20. the sceptre and the laurel crown. The golden sceptre 
 indicated that Chryses was the priest of Apollo. The laurel 
 
NOTES 131 
 
 crowu is Pope's substitution for '• tlie woollen fillet" of Homer, 
 which, wound round a staff, was the mark of the suppliant. " It 
 is here perhaps the same fillet which the priest usually wears on 
 his head in sign of his divine office. Or possibly it may even 
 be a fillet from the head of the god himself, and thus have still 
 higher sanctity." (Leaf.) 
 
 22. brother-kings. Agamemnon and Menelaus. 
 
 23-30. Notice the art of this speech. Chryses comprehen- 
 sively addresses the army of the Greeks as made up of troops 
 partly from the kingdoms and partly from democracies. As 
 priest of Apollo he prays that they may obtain the blessings 
 they desire — the conquest of Troy and a safe return. He then 
 names his petition, offers ransom, and bids them fear the wrath 
 of Apollo if they refuse his prayer. ' • Thus he endeavors to 
 work by the art of a* general application, by religion, by interest, 
 and the insinuation of danger." 
 
 28. Chryseis. Daughter of Chryses. 
 
 30. Phoebus. The bright. Homer usually speaks of Phoebus 
 Apollo, but the names are also sometimes separated. 
 
 32. the fair. A conventional poetic expression common in 
 the eighteenth century. 
 
 45. Argos. Xotthe town, but the Peloponnesus. See VI., 189. 
 
 •50. Chryses does not reply to the insults of Agamemnon, 
 but walks silently and sadly by the sea. Pope says: "The 
 melancholy flowing of the verse admirably expresses the condi- 
 tion of the mournful and deserted father." 
 
132 NOTES 
 
 53. Smintheus. Literally Mouse-gocl. Apollo was wor- 
 shipped under this title in the Troad, as at Smyrna as the 
 Locust-god. The old explanation of the name was that Apollo 
 gained it by ridding the land of a plague of field-mice. Mr. 
 Andrew Lang sees in the title an indication of the existence of 
 an old tribal totem or family ancestor. The mouse in Oriental 
 countries often personified plague and disease. Herodotus as- 
 cribes the destruction of the army of Sennacherib to an army 
 of field-mice, which came in the night and gnawed the Assyrian 
 bowstrings. In 1 Sam. vi. 4 golden mice are offered by the 
 Philistines as a propitiation when visited by the plague. It may 
 therefore be that the god has this name only in virtue of his 
 function of bringing and removing pestilence, of which this 
 book of the Iliad is the best instance. In that case the appeal 
 of Chryses gives him this title with peculiar appropriateness. 
 (Leaf.) 
 
 54-56. Cilia and Chrysa are towns in the south of the Troad, 
 on the gulf of Adramyttium ; Tenedos, an island in the bay of 
 Troas. Apollo had temples at these places. 
 
 60. Apollo was believed to resent ill usage of his priests and* 
 that, too, in the way here represented, viz., by sending plagues. 
 
 61-68. The description of Apollo descending in wrath is cele- 
 brated ; the sound of the verse corresponds to the sense. Pope 
 has sought by the use of onomatopoeia and alliteration to imi- 
 tate the twang of the silver bow and the sound of the flight of the 
 arrows. Cowper, in his attempt to reproduce the effect of the 
 original, produced a singular line, for which he felt it necessary 
 to apologize — 
 
NOTES 133 
 
 " Clang'd the cord 
 Dread-sounding, bounding on the silver bow." 
 
 66. around. Some editions read about. Milton was the 
 first to use around in the modern sense. Shakespeare uses 
 about; Pope prefers around. 
 
 74. Juno (Hera). The wife of Jupiter ; she sided with the 
 Greeks. Coleridge believed that Juno expressed the spirit of 
 conservatism. She is persistent, obstinate, acts from no idea, 
 but often uses a superficial reasoning, and refers to Fate, with 
 which she upbraids Jupiter. 
 
 Thetis, daughter of Nereus and wife of Peleus, was the 
 mother of Achilles. 
 
 81-82. spare — war. Notice the muffled rhyme. 
 
 88. Hecatomb means properly, as its etymology indicates, a 
 sacrifice of a hundred oxen ; it is frequently used, however, to 
 mean a sacrifice of any sort. 
 
 86. ' ' It will be noticed that the soothsaying of the Homeric 
 army is very far removed from the elaborate system with which 
 we are acquainted in later Greece and Rome. The words of 
 Achilles show that it was not confined to the priestly office, 
 though the priest, from the relations which he had with his god, 
 was likely to be specially favored with communications. In the 
 Odyssey Odysseus himself is an interpreter of dreams (XIX., 
 535), and Helen explains omens from the flight of birds (XV., 
 172). Kalchas, indeed, seems to be the only case of an augur 
 who is not heard of except for his augurJ^ Helenos, who holds 
 the corresponding position of soothsayer to the Trojans, is sou 
 
134 . NOTES 
 
 of Priam ; we do not hear that he is a priest, and he fights like 
 any hero. But indeed it is true that the Homeric priests in no 
 case form a caste apart, as they do in most civilized communi- 
 ties ; they generally fight with the rest." 
 
 89. aton'd. Observe the original meaning : at — one. 
 
 92. Calchas the wise. Observe this Grecian priest. He has 
 no political power, and commands little reverence. In Aga- 
 memnon's treatment of him, as well as Cbryses, is seen the rela- 
 tion of the religion to the government. It was neither master 
 nor slave. — E. P. P. "The Mantis or soothsayer, whose skill 
 was in most cases supposed to be hereditary, accompanied a 
 Greek force on all its expeditions, and no prudent general 
 would risk a battle or engage in any important enterprise with- 
 out first ascertaining from this authority the will of the gods 
 as shadowed out in certain appearances of the sacrifice or some 
 peculiarity in the flight of the birds, or some phenomena of the 
 heavens." 
 
 117. blameless. Pope, speaking of this adjective, says: "It 
 is not only applied to a priest, but to one who, being conscious 
 of the truth, prepares with an honest boldness to discover it." 
 
 124. black-ey'd maid. The Greek has been variously ex- 
 plained. The choice is thought to lie between "rolling the 
 eyes" and "sparkling-eyed." It is not the color of the eye 
 that is meant, but vivacity and youthful brightness. 
 
 143. Clytaemnestra. Wife of Agamemnon. Upon Aga- 
 memnon's return to Mycene he was murdered by her, and the 
 murder was avenged by her son Orestes. 
 
 151-154. Agamemnon's demand for a fresh prize of honor 
 
NOTES 135 
 
 is not mere selfishness and avarice. It is clear throughout the 
 Iliad, says Leaf, that it is in the public gifts, which are the 
 signs of preeminence, that the point of honor lies ; to lose such 
 a meed of honor is a disgrace as well as a material loss. So 
 Achilles himself requires (XXIV., 175) that if he is to give up 
 the body of Hector, he shall receive the ransom ; by so doing he 
 does not diminish the grace of his act, but only saves himself 
 from the reproach of weakness. It is important that this should 
 be kept in view throughout the Iliad. 
 
 158-159. During the past years of the siege raids had been 
 made upon the neighboring cities of the Troad. 
 
 177. mighty Ajax. The mightiest of the Grecian heroes, 
 after Achilles, was the son of Telamon and cousin of Achilles. 
 He was of vast stature and strength. 
 
 187. Creta's king. . Idomeneus. 
 
 201. Phthia. The chief city of Thessaly, land of Achilles 
 and his myrmidons. 
 
 228. monarch's right. 
 
 " There's such divinity doth hedge a king." 
 Kings are frequently called Zeus-nurtured. 
 
 231. The original is almost exactly equivalent to the line : 
 " Death and destruction dog thee at the heels," 
 addressed by Queen Elizabeth to Dorset in King Bichard III. 
 239. Myrmidons. The followers of Achilles. 
 266. confess'd. Revealed. 
 
136 NOTES 
 
 298. The abusive epithets with which this speech is charged 
 are characteristic of the violence of Achilles and the plain 
 speaking of Homer, which Pope too often tries to smooth and 
 to make respectable. 
 
 309. sacred sceptre. One not belonging to Achilles, but 
 which is handed by the herald to the speaker as a sign that he 
 is in possession of the house. Tylor observes that in the Ellice 
 Islands in the Pacific Ocean the natives "preserved an old 
 worm-eaten staff, which in their assemblies the orator held in 
 his hand as the sign of having the right to speak." 
 
 315. laws and justice. Literally precedents. The traditions 
 are deposited as a sacred mystery in the keeping of the kings. 
 In old Iceland and Ireland law was a tradition preserved entirely 
 by the special knowledge of a few men. 
 
 326. golden studs. Nails which fastened the blade to the 
 handle. (Leaf.) 
 
 331. Nestor. The orator of the Pylians. Pylos was in the 
 Peloponnesus. He is represented as having lived through more 
 than two generations and still being a king in the third ; that is, 
 between his seventieth and one hundredth years. 
 
 347-357. Pirithous. King of the Lapithse, a mythical race 
 of Thessaly, to which belonged Dryas, Ceneus, and Polyphemus 
 (not the Cyclops). Theseus, king of Athens, gave friendly aid 
 to Pirithous in the war which is referred to (line 357) between 
 the Lapithge and the Centaurs. The Centaurs of Homer are 
 simply a savage people ; there is no evidence that Homer con- 
 ceived them the monsters of Greek fable. 
 
NOTES 137 
 
 355-357. Notice the substitution of the triplet for the dis- 
 tich. 
 
 371. join'd. Not an imperfect rhyme in Pope's time, nor in 
 some places in our own. Whittier is true to the New England 
 ear when he rhymes line — join. 
 
 412. The sea was regarded by the Greeks as a great cere- 
 monial purifier. The meaning is that the Achaians w^ashed in 
 the sea so that it might carry off the defilements which were 
 typical of their sin. Probably they had during the pestilence 
 abstained from ablution, and cast dust on their heads in sign of 
 mourning. It was no doubt by a survival from Greek times 
 that the Neapolitans used, even down to 1580 a.d., to perform 
 once a year a ritual ablution in the sea. (Leaf.) 
 
 421. Talthybius and Eurybates. Legendary names of heralds 
 generally. The former was the name of the hereditary heralds 
 of Sparta, the latter that of the herald of Odysseus. 
 
 460. parent goddess. He cries, and his goddess-mother hears 
 
 him — 
 
 " Beside her aged father where she sat, 
 In the deep ocean-caves." 
 
 It is the original of our own Milton's beautiful invocation in 
 " Comus " — the rough simple outline on wiiich he has painted 
 with a grace and fulness which make it all his own — 
 
 " Sabriua fair ! 
 
 Listen, where thou art sitting 
 Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, 
 
 In twisted braids of lilies, knitting 
 The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair; 
 
138 :n^otes 
 
 Listen for dear honour's sake, 
 Goddess of the silver lake, 
 Listen, and save! " 
 
 Thetis hears, and rises on the sea — " like as it were a mist" — 
 (the "White Lady of Avenel"), caresses him soothingly with 
 her hand, as though the stalwart warrior were still a child 
 indeed, and asks him the simple question which all mothers, 
 goddesses or not, would put into much the same words, — " I\Iy 
 son, why weepest thou ? " (Collins.) 
 
 461. severe a doom. Achilles had been given the choice of 
 a long inglorious life or a brief career full of honor. The doom 
 is stated in Book IX. : — 
 
 " My fates long since by Thetis were disclos'd. 
 And each alternate, life or fame, propos'd ; 
 Here if I stay before the Trojan town. 
 Short is my date, but deathless my renown : 
 If I return, I quit immortal praise 
 For years on years and long-extended days." 
 
 469. aged Ocean. In later mythology, Nereus, but the name 
 does not occur in Homer, who has merely "her aged sire." 
 
 478. Thebe. A town in the Troad. 
 
 479. Eetion. The father of Andromache, killed by Achilles. 
 515-529. " This strange legend of the binding of Zeus is not 
 
 known from other sources, nor is it again mentioned in Homer, 
 although there are numerous allusions to battles and quarrels 
 among the gods, and to the previous dynasty of the Titans, who 
 are now banished to Tartarus. It is particularly strange to find 
 Athene in revolt against her father, in alliance with Ikra, and 
 
NOTES 139 
 
 the primitive earth-power Briareus on the side of Zeus. Nor do 
 we find elsewhere in Homer any such monstrous conception as 
 that of a being with a Imndred arms.'' (Leaf.) 
 
 519. warlike maid. ^linerva. monarch of the main. Xep- 
 tune. 
 
 531. Embrace his knees. Suppliants threw thenaselves at the 
 feet of the person to whom the supplication was addressed and 
 embraced his knees, at the same time putting the right hand 
 beneath his chin. See line 650. It has been suggested that the 
 origin of the custom is in the action of the wounded warrior 
 who with the left arm clasps the knee of his victor to hamper 
 his movement, and with the right hand turns aside his face so 
 that he cannot aim the fatal blow until he has heard the appeal 
 for mercy. 
 
 555. warm limits. Oceanus, the great stream that flows 
 round the world. 
 
 557. .^Ethiopia's blameless race. The ^Ethiopians dwelt on 
 the extreme limits of the world, on the stream of Ocean. 
 Whenever Homer alludes to the Ethiopians, it is always in 
 terms of admiration and praise. They are famed for their piety, 
 and the gods often make journej's to enjoy their feasts. George 
 Eliot suggests that the Ethiopians were -'blameless" because 
 they lived so far off that they had no neighbors to criticise them. 
 
 576. dome. House, or temple. Latin : Domus. 
 
 586, 587, 600-613. A most exact account of the ancient sac- 
 rifices : first, the purification by the washing of hands ; second, 
 the offering up of prayers ; third, the barley-cakes thrown upon 
 
140 NOTES 
 
 the victim ; fourth, the manner of killing it, with the head turned 
 upwards ; fifth, selecting the thighs and fat for their gods, as 
 the best of the sacrifice, and disposing about them pieces cut 
 from every part for a representation of the whole ; sixth, the 
 libation of wine ; seventh, consuming the thighs in the fire of 
 the altar ; eighth, the sacrificers dressing and feasting on the 
 rest, with joy and hymns to the gods. 
 
 609. instruments. Five-tined flesh-hooks. 
 
 619. Paeans. Hymns to propitiate the god (originally sung 
 in honor of Apollo) ; also a song of thanksgiving. It was sung 
 by several persons. 
 
 630. " It was the custom to draw the ships entirely upon 
 the shore, and to secure them by long props." (Felton.) 
 
 683-687. Literally rendered the passage reads : " The son of 
 Kronos spoke, and bowed his dark brow, and the ambrosial 
 locks waved from the king's immortal head ; and he made great 
 Olympus shake." It is said (by Strabo) that this description 
 inspired Phidias with the conception of his famous statue of 
 Zeus at Olympia. 
 
 714. Saturnius. Son of Saturn (Kronos). 
 
 719. consult. How used and how accented ? 
 
 731. An intrusion of Pope's philosophy, not Homer's. 
 
 736. "The scene between Zeus and Hera is typical of the 
 spirit in which Homer treats the deities of Olympia. It is, to 
 say the least, not reverent, and far removed from any concep- 
 tion of primitive piety. It is, indeed, one among many signs 
 that the civilization of the heroic age was old and not young — 
 
NOTES 141 
 
 a civilization which was outgrowing the simple faith of its 
 ancestors. It has often been pointed out with truth that the 
 humor of Homer is almost entirely confined to the scenes in 
 Olympos, which seem to be treated as a fit opportunity for the 
 display of passions which would be beneath the dignity of heroes. 
 Even in morality the tone of Olympos is distinctly beneath that 
 of earth. Mr. Gladstone has well remarked that not one of the 
 gods can be called as distinctly good as the swineherd Eumaios. 
 741. architect divine. Fabled to be the fashioner of the 
 Olympian palaces. 
 
 753. double bowl. Pope evidently has in mind the bowl 
 with a cup at each end which was seen upon the table in Queen 
 Anne's time. It is, however, a two-handed cup, such as has 
 been found at Hissarlik and Mykenai, 
 
 760. Refers to an old fable of Jupiter's hanging up Juno and 
 flogging her. 
 700-765. 
 
 " Xor was his name unheard or unadored 
 In ancient Greece : and in Ausonian land 
 Men called him Mulciber ; and how he fell 
 From heaven they fabled, thrown by angry Jove 
 Sheer o'er the crystal battlements ; from morn 
 To noon he fell, from noon to devry eve, 
 A summer's day : and with the setting sun 
 Dropped from the zenith, like a falling star. 
 On Lemnos, the ^Egean isle." — Paradise Lost, I., 738. 
 765. Sinthians. The inhabitants of Lemnos, an island 
 sacred to Hephaistos because of the volcano Mosychlos. Their 
 name is derived from their piratical habits. 
 
142 NOTES 
 
 771. The lame Vulcan, assuming the office of Hebe or Gany- 
 mede, stops the heavenly quarrel by making himself the subject 
 of merriment. 
 
 BOOK VI 
 
 Of all the Iliad this incomparable book attains the grandest 
 heights of narrative and composition, of action and pathos. 
 Nowhere else have we so perfect a gallery of types of human 
 character ; the two pairs, Hector and Paris, Helen and Androma- 
 che, in their truthfulness and contrast, form a group as subtly 
 as they are broadly drawn ; while, on the other hand, the 
 "battle vignettes" with which the book opens, and the culmi- 
 nation of the scenes of war in the meeting of Glaukos and 
 Dioraedes, set before us with unequalled vivacity the pride of 
 life of an heroic age, the refinement of feeling which no fierce- 
 ness of fight can barbarize, in the most consummate manner of 
 the "great style." (Leaf.) 
 
 5. fam'd streams. Homer names the Simois and Xanthus 
 (which men call Scamandar). The Simois rose in Mount Ida, 
 and the Xanthus near Troy ; they formed a junction before 
 they reached the Hellespont. 
 
 7. Ajax. The son of Telamon is always meant by Homer 
 when no epithet is used to distinguish him from the other Ajax, 
 who was the son of Oileus. Ajax commences his exploits on 
 the departure of the gods from the battle. It is observed of this 
 hero that he is never assisted by the gods. 
 
 9. Notice the grammatical construction : Falcion is the sub- 
 ject of found and hewed. 
 
NOTES 113 
 
 16. Axylus was distinguished for his hospitality. This tiuit 
 was characteristic of the Oriental nations, and is often alluded 
 to by the ancient writers. The right of hospitality often united 
 families belonging to different and hostile nations, and was even 
 transmitted from father to son. This description is a fine trib- 
 ute to the generosity of Axylus. (Felton.) 
 
 24. His faithful servant. Calesius was the driver of Axylus's 
 chariot. 
 
 28. Naiad. The fountain-nymph Abarbarea. 
 
 36. hell. The underworld. 
 
 37. Teucer. Son of Telemon and step-brother of Ajax. re- 
 nowned for his archery. 
 
 38. Nestor's son. Antilochus. 
 41. Pedasus. A town of Mysia. 
 
 46. Spartan spear. In the hands of Menelaus. 
 
 49. tamarisk. Not a large tree, as Pope imagines. In the 
 original the horses stumble in a tamarisk's bough and so snap 
 short the pole of the chariot. 
 
 61-62. told. Counted; ieZ7an. to count. Coined money was 
 not in use at this time. The gifts for ransom are bronze and 
 " smithied iron." 
 
 80. Pope commenting upon the fact that Agamemnon's 
 cruelty is not blamed by Homer ascribes it to the uncivilized 
 manners of those times. Homer very rarely expresses any 
 moral judgment upon the action of his characters. The liistori- 
 cal books of the Old Testament abound in similar crurlties to 
 conquered enemies. 
 
144 NOTES 
 
 88. This maxim of war, "To the victor belong the spoils," 
 is very naturally introduced. According to Dacier it was for 
 such lessons as these that Alexander so much esteemed Homer. 
 
 91. Helenus. Son of Priam. 
 
 108. our mother. Hecuba. 
 
 113. mantle. Helenus directs Hector to enter the city and 
 cause the Trojan women to assemble in the temple of Minerva 
 with a robe or peplos for a propitiatory offering, and to promise 
 a sacrifice if Athene will stay the victorious progress of Aga- 
 memnon. In one of the scenes portrayed in the frieze of the 
 Parthenon a peplos is solemnly brought to the goddess by the 
 city of Athens. 
 
 145. Hector's shield reaches from the ankles to the neck. 
 It was composed of layers of ox-hide covered with metal. The 
 hides were turned up at the outer edge of the shield to form a 
 rim and so prevent any friction against the edge of the metal 
 facing. Hector walks with his shield hanging at his back. 
 
 148. "The episode of Glaucus and Diomedes is remarkable 
 in several respects. At first sight it seems improbable that two 
 combatants, eager to engage, should hold a dialogue of this 
 description ; and accordingly we find a writer in the Edinburgh 
 lieview objecting to and ridiculing it as in the highest degree 
 absurd. It must be remembered that Homer is describing the 
 manners of an ancient heroic age and not the nineteenth cen- 
 tury. His battles are not like those of Waterloo and Austerlitz, 
 the result of scientific calculation, and dependent on the move- 
 ments of masses of men, giving but little scope to individual 
 prowess and, above all, are not decided by powder and bullet. 
 
NOTES 145 
 
 They are the battles of an age of simplicity, in which the per- 
 sonal valour of the chieftains bore a distinguished share. It 
 happened not infrequently that opposing chieftains singled each 
 other out and fought hand to hand, after holding parley and 
 making various interrogations of each other. This has indeed 
 occurred in the skirmishing warfare of the last Greek Revolu- 
 tion. We have before adverted to the right of hospitality. It 
 cannot be deemed improbable that two warriors, whose fathers 
 had exchanged courtesies and pledges of this description, should 
 meet on the field of battle and upon inquiry find themselves 
 thus bound together. The peculiar sacredness of this tie would 
 cause them at once to suspend hostilities and perhaps exchange 
 tokens of friendly recognition. On the whole this episode, so 
 far from being an unnatural and improbable excrescence, is a 
 relief to the carnage and confusion of the battle and presents a 
 beautiful picture of that feature of ancient society which has 
 already been the subject of remark." (Felton.) 
 
 150. mark'd for war. i.e. for single combat, as in " Sohrab 
 and Rustum." 
 
 IGl. The home of Lycurgus was in Thrace ; ' ' Nyssa's sacred 
 grove" is not geographical. He drove Bacchus, Dionysos, and 
 his followers (Bacchantes) from his domains and was punished 
 by Zeus with blindness. The " consecrated spears " (line 165) 
 should be '-wands" or staves wreathed with ivy, which were 
 carried by the Mienads, or Bacchantes. 
 
 191. iEolian. Son of ^Eolus. 
 
 193. Ephyre. The early name of Corinth. 
 
 201. Antea. The wife of Proetus. 
 
146 NOTi:s 
 
 208. "Proetus, unwilling himself to violate the laws of hos- 
 pitality by killing a guest, sends him to Antea's father, lobates, 
 who likewise after entertaining Bellerophon shrinks from slay- 
 ing him and sends him into perils which he expects to prove 
 fatal." 
 
 210. This passage raises the important question of the knowl- 
 edge of writing in Homeric times. It seems impossible to deny 
 that such a knowledge is implied. The "folded tablet" seems 
 to show that the message might have been intelligible to Beller- 
 ophon if it had not been concealed; the "many deadly'' (lit- 
 erally soul-destroying) "things" implies a real message, not a 
 mere picture or conventional sign of a murder or the like. It 
 is further clear that the use of such a letter of introduction was 
 regular, for the king asks to see it as a matter of course. This 
 is, in fact, just an example of the way in which we might sup- 
 pose writing to have been introduced into Greece. It seems to 
 be regarded as a strange accomplishment, for the adjective 
 "soul-destroying" implies a sort of magical power, such as 
 always is ascribed to writing by savages who are not practically 
 acquainted with it. It is known only to a royal family con- 
 nected with Asia Minor, and it is to Asia Minor that we are 
 being more and more led by recent researches to look for the 
 introduction of the higher culture into Greece. There is there- 
 fore no reason for doubting that the knowledge of the art had 
 gone so far as this passage indicates long before the Dorian 
 invasion. This, of course, is far from justifying us in suppos- 
 ing that an Achaian poet would be able to use writing for the 
 composition of a long poem, though it does show that this is not 
 
NOTES 147 
 
 impossible. If we ask what sort of writing this coukl have bi-f-n. 
 we naturally think of the Cypriote syllabary. It is hardly 
 likely that the Phoenician alphabet, the foundation of later 
 Greek writing, had been yet introduced, for the traces of Phoe- 
 nician influence on the Achaian world are very few and slight, 
 just as the mention of the Phoenicians in the Iliad is rare. The 
 Cypriote syllabary, on the other hand, must have been known 
 at an early date throughout xVsia Minor, if Professor Sayce is 
 right in recognizing it on wdiorls from Hissarlik. We may 
 thus provisionally suppose it to be alluded to here in the hope 
 of further discoveries to elucidate this all-important point. The 
 other alternative is that the writing may have been Egyptian, 
 for it is daily becoming more clear that the Achaians had been 
 acquainted with Egj'pt from a date long anterior to the Homeric 
 poems, and it is likely enough that they may have picked up 
 some knowledge of the use of hieroglyphs. In fact, a few 
 P^gyptian inscriptions are the only traces of writing which have 
 as yet been found in Mykenai. 
 
 215. According to the ancient custom of hospitality the guest 
 was entertained before he was questioned as to his name and 
 message. Alkinoos entertained Odysseus a whole day before 
 asking him his name. 
 
 219. Chimaera. The only instance in Homer of the fabulous 
 mixed monsters of later Greek mythology. 
 
 226. prodigies. Portents. 
 
 227. Solymaean crew. The primitive inhabitants of Lykia. 
 who w^ere driven by the Lycians (from Crete) into the mountains. 
 
 229. Amazons. A race of warrior women. 
 
148 NOTES 
 
 242. Homer names tliem: Isandros, Hippoloclios, and 
 Laodameia. 
 
 247. Aleian field. The "Plain of Wandering" was believed 
 to be in Cilicia. The tradition evidently was that Bellerophon 
 became mad, 
 
 250. Phoebe's dart. Sudden death. Women died painlessly 
 when smitten by Phoebe (Diana) . 
 
 251. He died in battle. 
 
 274. Tyrian dye. Royal purple. 
 
 277-278. Refers to the expedition of the "Seven against 
 Thebes." 
 
 290. Leaf remarks: "This curious ending to a delightful 
 episode seems almost like a burlesque, and is hard to understand. 
 Elsewhere in Homer the only characters treated with distinctly 
 humorous intention are the gods." Pope mistranslates in line 
 201 when Homer says that " Zeus took from Glaukos his wits." 
 
 297. Scagan gate. The great gate of the city through which 
 the Trojans went forth to battle. 
 
 298. beech-tree. Oak-tree in Homer. 
 
 314. Laodice. Daughter of Hecuba. 
 
 318. " There is a mournfulness in the interview between the 
 hero and his mother which is deeply interesting. Her urging 
 him to take wine and his refusal were natural and simple inci- 
 dents wliich heighten the effect of the scene." (Felton.) 
 
 329-383. This homily upon temperance belongs to Pope not 
 to Homer. The original has " bring me no honey-hearted wine, 
 
NOTES 149 
 
 my mother, lest thou cripple me of my courage, and I be forget- 
 ful of my might." 
 
 362-363. Tyre and Sidon were famous for works in gold, 
 embroidery, etc., and for whatever pertained to magnificence 
 and luxury. 
 
 371. Palladian dome. Dome (or temple) of Pallas (Mi- 
 nerva) . 
 
 372. Theano. Sister of Hecuba, and daughter of Cisseus, a 
 prince of Thrace. 
 
 395. ten cubits. Sixteen feet {eleven cubits, as in Homer) 
 was not an unusual length for a spear. Xenophon speaks of 
 one fifteen cubits, or twenty-two feet. 
 
 396. ringlets. Meant to hold the head of the spear in place 
 and prevent the wood from splitting. 
 
 399-401. "The employment in which Hector finds Paris 
 engaged is extremely characteristic." (Felton.) Paris carries 
 his foppish airs into the affairs of war. 
 
 403. instructs their hands. Working at the loom. 
 
 466. second joy. That is, after her husband. 
 
 467. Astyanax. The only son of Hector. The name means 
 "defender of the city," as Hector means "protector." See 
 lines 501-503. 
 
 491. Here we are introduced to the second female character 
 in the poem. It is as the wife and mother that Andromache 
 charms us. It has been remarked that Homer never applies to 
 her any epithet implying personal attractions, though all his 
 translators, Lord Derby included, have been tempted to do so. 
 
150 NOTES 
 
 Hector meets her at the Scseaii gate with the nurse and the 
 child. The father looks silently on his boy and smiles; An- 
 dromache in tears clings to her husband and makes a pathetic 
 appeal to him not to be too prodigal of a life which is so dear 
 to his wife and child. He is now "her father, mother, brother, 
 husband," — her all. "The incidents which follow are simple 
 but requisite. Hector wishes to take in his arms his beloved 
 son ; but the child, terrified by the glittering armor and the 
 waving crest, clings to the bosom of the nurse. This calls a 
 smile upon the countenance of the parents, who are thus, by a 
 happy stroke of nature, made to forget, for a single moment, 
 the gloomy state of public affairs in affection for their offspring. 
 Hector lays upon the ground his shining helmet, caresses his 
 son, and utters a prayer becoming a patriot and warrior. He 
 places the child in the arms of his wife, who receives him upon 
 her 'fragrant bosom,' smiling tearfully. This is one of the 
 most beautiful expressions to be found in any language. It is 
 concise yet distinct, and presents a perfect image of mingled 
 gentleness and sadness. It fills the imagination and touches 
 the heart." (Felton.) 
 
 528-530. Pope amplifies Homer, who has "burnt him in 
 his inlaid armour and raised a barrow over him ; and all about 
 were elm-trees planted by the mountain nymphs, daughters of 
 segis-bearing Zeus." It was a universal custom among the 
 primitive Aryan nations to bury a warrior's arms with his dead 
 body. Swords have been found in graves at Mykenai. 
 
 539. Hippoplacia. MorecorrectlyHyppoplacia, another name 
 for Phcebe. 
 
NOTES 151 
 
 583. Hyperia's spring. Homer says "from fount Messeis 
 or Hyperia." The former is in Laconia, the latter in Thessaly. 
 "The mention of these with Argos may perliaps indicate Mene- 
 laos of Sparta, Achilles of Thessaly, and Agamemnon of Argos 
 as the three probable masters of Andromache." (Doderlein.) 
 Later tradition has it that Andromache became the prize of 
 Xeoptolemus, son of Achilles. 
 
 676-679. Hector resumes his hope of success and his spirit is 
 roused again as he approaches the field of battle. The close of 
 the book in Homer is much stronger than in Pope's poor para- 
 phrase. '-All this will we make good hereafter, if Zeus ever 
 vouchsafe us to set before the heavenly gods, that are for ever- 
 lasting, the cup of deliverance in our halls, when we have chased 
 out of Troyland the well-greaved Achaians." 
 
 BOOK XXII 
 
 The preceding book closed with Achilles in pursuit of Apollo, 
 who had assumed the disguise of the Trojan Agenor in order to 
 draw Achilles away from the field of battle, that the Trojans 
 might have an opportunity to retreat into the city. 
 
 6. roof of shields. The Greeks held their shields above their 
 heads for protection against missiles thrown from the walls. 
 
 30. Homer makes Achilles say to Apollo in wrath : " Verily, 
 I would avenge me on thee had I but the power." 
 
 39. Orion's dog. Sirius in the constellation canis major, so 
 
 called from its proximity to the constellation Orion. When 
 Sirius rose with the sun in summer it was supposed to exert an 
 
152 NOTES 
 
 evil influence, to cause fevers, etc. Hence this time of year 
 was called the canicular or dog days. Weighs means presses 
 to its close. 
 
 43. " With how much dreadful Pomp is Achilles here intro- 
 duced ? How noble, and in what hold colours hath he drawn 
 the blazing of his Arms, the Rapidity of his Advance, the Terror 
 of his Appearance, the Desolation around him, but above all the 
 certain Death attending all his motions and his very looks ; 
 what a crowd of terrible Ideas in this one Simile ! But immedi- 
 ately after this follows the moving Image of the two aged 
 Parents, trembling, weeping, and imploring their Son ! This is 
 succeeded again by the dreadful, gloomy picture of Hector, all 
 on lire, obstinate, bent on Death, and expecting Achilles, ad- 
 mirably painted in the Simile of the Snake rolled up in his 
 Den and collecting his Poisons. And indeed thro' the whole 
 Book the wonderful Contrast and Opposition of the Moving and 
 of the Terrible is perpetually kept each heightening the other. 
 I can't find words to express how so great Beauties affect me." 
 (Pope.) 
 
 45. obtests. Entreats. 
 
 64. mother. Homer names her Laothoe. She is the daugh- 
 ter of Altes and a wife of Priam. This passage is quoted as a 
 genuine case of polygamy, but among the Trojans only ; nothing 
 of the sort is even hinted at among the Homeric Greeks. The 
 deaths of Polydore and Lycaon are described at the end of Book 
 XX. and the beginning of XXI. 
 
 69. Lelegia's throne. The Leleges were supposed to live on 
 the coast of Asia Minor and the islands of the iEgean. 
 
NOTES 153 
 
 71. Stygian coast. The underworld, inhabited by the spirits 
 of the dead. 
 
 112. The zone unbrac'd. Hecuba unfastened the brooch by 
 which her robe was fastened over the right shoulder. This 
 would allow the upper fold of the front of the robe to fall so 
 that the breast would be shown. 
 
 132. The poison of snakes was supposed to be derived from 
 herbs which they ate when about to attack. 
 
 137. This speech of Hector shows the fluctuation of his 
 mind, with much discernment on the part of the poet. He 
 breaks out, after having apparently meditated a return to the 
 city. But the imagined reproaches of Polydamas, and the an- 
 ticipated scorn of the Trojans, forbid it. He soliloquizes upon 
 the possibility of coming to terms with Achilles, and offering 
 him large concessions ; but the character of Achilles precludes 
 all hope of reconciliation. It is a fearful crisis with him, and 
 his mind wavers, as if presentiment of his approaching doom. 
 (Felton.) 
 
 140. When the Greeks were fighting for the corpse of Patro- 
 clus, Achilles appeared and, shouting, frightened the TrojaTis. 
 Polydamas advised to retire within the city for the night, but 
 Hector favored camping on the field, and his command was 
 obeyed. 
 
 157. terms of peace. They are stated in lines 158-163. 
 
 158. Helen and the treasure that was carried away with her. 
 
 175. The Pelian jav'lin. Patroclus when putting on the 
 armor of Achilles "seized two strong lances that fitted his 
 
154 NOTES 
 
 grasp, only he took not tlie spear of the noble son of ^acus, 
 heavy and huge and stalwart, that none other of the Achaians 
 could wield, but Achilles alone availed to wield it : even the 
 ashen Pelian spear that Chiron gave to his father dear, from a 
 peak of Pelian, to be the death of warriors." 
 
 180. Hector's sudden flight at the approach of Achilles is 
 one of the most extraordinary incidents of the Iliad. Says Mr. 
 Andrew Lang : " In a saga or a chanson de geste, in an Arthu- 
 rian romance, in a Border ballad, in whatever poem or tale 
 answers in our Northern literature, however feebly, to Homer, 
 this flight round the walls of Troy would be an absolute impos- 
 sibility. Under the eyes of his father, his mother, his country- 
 men, Hector flies — the gallant Hector, 'a very perfect, gentle 
 knight' — from the onset of a single foe." But, Mr. Lang 
 adds: "Homer's world. Homer's chivalry, Homer's ideas of 
 knightly honor, were all unlike those of the Christian and the 
 Northern world." 
 
 Professor Mahaffy, on the other hand, regards this slur and 
 other slurs on Hector's courage as changes wrought by alien 
 hands in the original poem. " Why," he asks, "is he so im- 
 portant all through the plot of the poem ? Why is his death by 
 Achilles made an achievement of the highest order ? Why are 
 the chiefs who at one time challenge and worst him, at another 
 quaking with fear at his approach ? Simply because in the 
 original plan of the Iliad he ivas a great warrior, and because 
 these perpetual defeats by Diomede and Ajax, this avoidance of 
 Agamemnon, this swaggering and 'hectoring,' which we now 
 find in him, were introduced by the eulargers and interpolators 
 
NOTES 155 
 
 in order to enhance the merits of their favorites at his expense." 
 (Maxwell and Chubb.) 
 
 189. fore-right. Eight to the fore, straight ahead. 
 
 193. fig-trees. They have been mentioned in Book VI. as a 
 landmark. The wagon road runs round the wall at a short dis- 
 tance from it. Smoke. Raise a dust by their speed. 
 
 201. marble cisterns. Contrast this with Homer's "broad 
 beautiful washing-troughs of stone." 
 
 241. Tritonia. Trito-born, an epithet of Athene (Minerva). 
 
 " Tritonia's airy shrine adorns 
 Colouna's cliff, and gleams along the wave." — Byron. 
 
 247. vapour. Scent. 
 
 251. Dardan. Dardan is frequently equivalent to Trojan or 
 Ilian. The Dardanians (usually of wider designation than 
 Trojan) were led by ^neas. 
 
 257. " The inability to catch and escape is vividly compared 
 to the feeling of being bound to pursue, and yet of being rooted 
 to the ground, which is so common in nightmare." Cowper 
 remarks that ' ' the numbers in the original are so constructed 
 as to express the painful struggle that characterizes such a 
 dream." 
 
 276. hell receives the weight. Hector is doomed to Hades. 
 
 291. Deiphobus. Minerva assumes the form of Hector's 
 brother, son of Priam and Hecuba. 
 
 293. show. Appearance. 
 
 294, Mr. Lang says : " It is remarkable that when the true 
 
156 NOTES 
 
 poet had to pit against each other a courteous and patriotic 
 warrior like Hector and a young hero who, like Achilles, is 
 really fighting only for his own hand and his private passion, he 
 should have made Hector check our sympathy by his flight, and 
 Achilles even more unsympathetic by the treacherous aid of 
 Athene than by his own relentless and savage revenge." To a 
 Greek audience, Mr. Leaf thinks : " The presence of the gods on 
 Achilles' side was not so much a mere extraneous aid as a tan- 
 gible sign that Achilles was, after all, fighting the great fight of 
 Hellenism against barbarism ; it is a reminder that the action 
 on earth is but a reflexion of the will of heaven, and exalts 
 rather than belittles those to whom the help is given." " It is 
 a cardinal rule with Homer," says Mr. Gladstone, "that no 
 considerable Greek chieftain is ever slain in fair fight by a 
 Trojan." 
 
 348. In Book XVIII. , Thetis, Achilles's mother, had told him 
 that straightway after Hector's death was death appointed unto 
 him. In Book XIX., his horse Xanthus, gifted for the moment 
 with human speech and the power of prophecy, had foretold 
 that his master's death-day was nigh at hand. Mr. John Add- 
 ington Symonds thinks that the knowledge of his own approach- 
 ing end IS the key to the terrible ferocity displayed by the Greek 
 chieftain. "Stung as he is," says Mr. Symonds, "by remorse 
 and by the sorrow for Patroclus, which does not unnerve him, 
 but rather kindles his whole spirit to a flame, we are prepared 
 to see him fierce even to cruelty. But when we know that in 
 the midst of the carnage he is himself moving a dying man, 
 when we remember that he is sending his slain foes like mes- 
 
NOTES 157 
 
 sengers before his face to Hades, when we keep the warnmg 
 words of Thetis and Xanthus in our minds, then the grim frenzy 
 of Achilles becomes dignified. The world is in a manner over 
 for him, and he appears the incarnation of disdainful anger and 
 revengeful love, the conscious scourge of God and instrument of 
 destiny." 
 
 391. Jove's bird. The eagle. 
 
 395. fourfold cone. Four-plated helmet. 
 
 397. Vulcanian frame. Forged by Vulcan. 
 
 405-406. Achilles says, lamenting the death of Patroclus 
 (Book XVIIT.) : " Hector that slew him hath stripped from him 
 the armour great and fair, a wonder to behold, that the gods 
 gave to Peleus." 
 
 436. prevalence. Efficacy. 
 
 437. ]\Ir. Leaf interprets the line: "As surely as I cannot 
 eat thee myself so surely the dogs shall eat thee." 
 
 452. The prophecy is fulfilled when Achilles is killed by a 
 poisoned arrow shot by Paris and guided by Apollo. 
 
 466. The admiration expressed for the beauty of the corpse 
 is thoroughly Greek. 
 
 467. The mutilation of the body is palliated by the wide- 
 spread belief that the spirit is deprived of the power to revenge 
 when the body is mutilated. 
 
 494. The full text of this song of triumph is: " Great glory 
 have we won ; we have slain the noble Hector, unto' whom the 
 Trojans prayed throughout their city, as he had been a god." 
 
158 NOTES 
 
 610. This notion of astrology is, of course, Pope's, not 
 Homer's. 
 
 640. The idea seems to be that an orphan is deprived of the 
 favor of the gods and may be insulted with impunity. This 
 idea still lives in Albania, where at the marriage ceremony the 
 marriage loaf must be baked by a maid whose parents are alive 
 or she will bring misfortune to the wedded pair. 
 
 BOOK XXIV 
 
 "The supreme beauty of the last book of the Iliads and the 
 divine pathos of the dying fall, in which the tale of strife and 
 blood passes away, are above all words of praise. The meeting 
 of Priam and Achilles, the kissing of the deadly hands, and the 
 simplicity of infinite sadness over man's fate in Achilles' reply, 
 mark the high tide of a great epoch of poetry. In them we 
 feel that the whole range of suffering has been added to the 
 unsurpassed presentment of action which, without this book, 
 might seem to be the crowaiing glory of the IliacV (Leaf.) 
 
 1. games. The funeral games in honor of Patroclus were 
 described in Book XXIII. 
 
 20. Achilles wanders aimlessly. 
 
 25. monument. A funeral mound. The bones of Patroclus 
 were placed in the tent of Achilles. 
 
 33. golden shield. Literally, golden segis : a perplexing 
 passage, for the segis belongs to Zeus, not to Apollo. 
 
 34. Hermes. This is the first allusion to Mercury as a 
 thieving god. 
 
NOTES 159 
 
 37. Empress Juno (Hera). 
 
 38-41. This is the sole occasion in the Iliad where any allu- 
 sion is made to the story of the contest of beauty and the judg- 
 ment of Paris, which led to the flight of Helen. 
 
 41. Cyprian queen. So called from the island where Yenus 
 was first worshipped. 
 
 56-57. Cowper explains that shame is a man's blessing if he 
 is properly influenced by it, or his curse in its consequences if 
 he is deaf to its dictates. Mr. Leaf says that the Greek word 
 translated shame expresses on the one hand the respect for the 
 opinion of men which we call sense of honor ; on the other, it 
 can stand for the wrong shame or want of proper boldness, 
 such as prevents a man from properly doing his work in the 
 world. 
 
 96. azure queen. Thetis. 
 
 99. Iris. Goddess of the rainbow ; the messenger of Jupiter, 
 as Mercury is of all Olympus. 
 
 103. Samos. Should be Samothrace. 
 
 108. This remarkable simile is badly translated. The origi- 
 nal reads: "And she sped to the bottom like a weight of lead 
 'that, mounted on horn of a field-ox, goeth down, bearing death 
 to the ravenous fishes." It would appear that a little tube or 
 horn was passed over the line just above the hook, to prevent 
 the fish biting it through, and some molten lead was run into 
 the tube to sink it. 
 
 112. blue-hair'd sisters. The Nereids. 
 
160 irof:E& 
 
 146. glory. The glory accorded to Achilles is the receipt of 
 gifts wherein the heroic point of honor lies. 
 
 285. chargers. Large dishes. 
 
 289-290. Homer says more clearly: "Yet not that even did 
 the old man grudge from his halls, for he was exceeding fain at 
 heart to ransom his dear son." 
 
 311. erring. Errare, to wander. 
 
 322. This is the only time when Troilus, a favorite charac- 
 ter in the later tale of Troy, is mentioned in the Iliad. 
 
 336. ringlets. Through which the reins were passed. 
 
 346. The car conveying the presents was drawn by mules ; 
 the other, in which Priam and the herald rode, was drawn by 
 horses. The Mysians of northern Asia Minor were famous for 
 breeding mules. 
 
 359. Zeus. 
 
 361. The eagle. 
 
 375. the mid pavement. That is, in the midst of the court, 
 because the altar of Zeus is there. 
 
 390. Percnos. The black eagle. 
 
 393. dexter. Appearing on the right. 
 
 418. incumbent. Resting upon. 
 
 430. silver spring. Homer says: "At the river," that is, 
 Scamander. 
 
 431. Ilus' ancient marble. The barrow or tomb of Ilus, 
 grandfather of Priam. 
 
KOTES 161 
 
 457. lines. Lineaments, features. 
 
 552. Pelides' lofty tent. The tent of Achilles is described 
 as though it were a palace. It has a hall with fore court, vesti- 
 bule, and colonnades, and is at times spoken of as a house. 
 This indicates a complete difference of view from the rest of the 
 Iliad. 
 
 572. his son. Neoptolemus ; Alexander the Great claimed 
 descent from Achilles through this son. 
 
 586. Of these lines Pope writes : "I fancy this Interview be- 
 tween Priam and Achilles would furnish an admirable subject 
 for a Painter, in the Surprize of Achilles and the other specta- 
 tors, the attitude of Priam and the sorrow in the countenance of 
 this unfortunate king. That circumstance of Priam kissing the 
 Hands of Achilles is inimitably fine ; 'he kissed,' says Homer, 
 ' the Hands of Achilles, those terrible, murderous Hands that 
 had robbed him of so many Sons.' By these two words the 
 Poet recalls to our mind all the noble Actions performed by 
 Achilles in the whole Ilias ; and at the same time strikes us 
 with the utmost Compassion for this unhappy king who is re- 
 duced so low as to be obliged to kiss those Hands that had slain 
 his subjects and ruined his kingdom and family." — Pope's 
 Horner^ 1st edition, 6, 211. 
 
 598-63.3. "The whole scene between Achilles and Priam, 
 when the latter comes to the Greek camp for the purpose of re- 
 deeming the body of Hector, is at once the most profoundly 
 skilful, and yet the simplest and most affecting passage in the 
 Iliad. . . . Observe the exquisite taste of Priam in occupying 
 the mind of Achilles, from the outset, with the image of his 
 
162 NOTES 
 
 father ; in gradually introducing the parallel of his own situa- 
 tion ; and, lastly, mentioning Hector's name when he perceives 
 that the hero is softened, and then only in such a manner as to 
 flatter the pride of the conqueror. . . . The whole passage de- 
 fies translation, for there is that about the Greek which has no 
 name, but which is of so fine and ethereal a subtlety that it can 
 only be felt in the original, and is lost in an attempt to transfuse 
 it into another language." — H. N. Coleridge. 
 
 745. manes. Belongs to Roman mythology and means the 
 spirits of the dead regarded as divinities of the household. Here 
 it is the spirit of Patroclus. 
 
 757-759. As Niobe ate in her extreme grief, and she is the 
 pattern of faithful sorrow, you may well eat without appearing 
 hard of heart. 
 
 762. Cynthia. Diana, so called from Mount Cynthus, in the 
 island of Delos, where she was born. 
 
 769. inhume. Bury. 
 
 773. herself a rock. Pausanias says of the figure of Niobe 
 on Mount Cipylas near Smyrna : " The rock, seen from near at 
 hand, is a precipice, with no resemblance to a woman, mourning 
 or otherwise ; but if you go farther off you can fancy you are 
 looking at a woman, downcast, and bathed in tears." Visitors 
 to Smyrna are still shown this figure rudely carved by human 
 hands. 
 
 775. AcheloUs. A river of Lydia. 
 
 776. wat'ry fairies. Fairies and their rings belong to mod- 
 ern tradition. It is the water nymphs of whom Homer speaks. 
 
NOTES 163 
 
 862. Xanthus. Scamander. 
 
 870. Cassandra. Daughter of Priam, and gifted with pro- 
 phetic powers. 
 
 900. melancholy choir. The professional mourners. 
 
 906. '-The affection of Hector for his wife, no less distin- 
 guished than the passion of Achilles for his friend, has made 
 the Trojan prince rather than his Greek rival the hero of 
 modern romance." (A. J. Symonds.) 
 
 934-935. These two lines are quoted from Congreve, to 
 whom Pope dedicated this translation. 
 
 962. " Helen is throughout the Iliad a genuine lady, grace- 
 ful in motion and speech, noble in her associations, full of 
 remorse for a fault for which higher powers seem responsible, 
 yet grateful and affectionate towards those with whom that 
 fault had connected her. I have always thought the following 
 speech, in which Helen laments Hector and hints at her own 
 invidious and unprotected situation in Troy, as almost the 
 sweetest passage in the poem." (Henry Nelson Coleridge.) 
 
 1015-1016. Literally translated the last line of the Iliad 
 reads: "Thus held they funeral for Hector, tamer of horses," 
 an ending worthy in its majestic simplicity of the praise with 
 which Cowper takes leave of a task to which he had been in- 
 debted for the smooth and easy flight of many thousand hours. 
 " I cannot take my leave of this noble poem," he says, "with- 
 out expressing how much I am struck with this plain conclusion 
 of it. It is like the exit of a great man out of company whom 
 he has entertained magnificently ; neither pompous nor familiar ; 
 
164 NOTES 
 
 not contemptuous, yet without much ceremony. I recollect 
 nothing, among the works of mere man, that exemplifies so 
 strongly the true style of great antiquity." 
 
 THE TIME OF THE ACTION 
 
 I., 71. The action of the Iliad occupies altogether fifty-one 
 days, the distribution of which will show the argument of the 
 poem. The plague rages nine days ; in the tents take place the 
 quarrel between Agamemnon and Achilles, and the appeal of 
 the latter to his mother, Thetis. The return of Zeus is expected 
 on the twelfth day from that date ; on the twenty-first day, 
 therefore, he gives the promise to honor Achilles by the defeat 
 of the Greeks, upon which the further action of the poem 
 hinges. On the morning of the twenty-second, after the agita- 
 tion caused by the dream of Agamemnon, commences the first 
 battle, which, with the single combat between Paris and Mene- 
 laus, and that between Hector and Ajax, carries on the poem 
 as far as Book VII. , 440. On the next morning a truce is made, 
 and the burial of the dead and the construction, on the Greek 
 side, of a fortification in front of their camp, occupy that and 
 the following day. On the twenty-fifth, therefore, Zeus holds 
 the council in which he prohibits divine help from the war 
 altogether, and the second battle is begun and ended at night 
 with the defeat of the Greeks. The night is then taken up by 
 an embassy to Achilles and by a raid on the Trojan camp, in 
 both of which measures Odysseus bears a principal part. The 
 twenty-sixth is the day of the third battle, which commences 
 evenly, but is continued by the storming of the Greek rampart 
 
NOTES 165 
 
 (Book XII.), the attack on the fleet (Books XIII.-XV.), its 
 rescue by Patroclus (Book XVI.), the struggle over that hero's 
 body (Book XYIL), and the final retreat of Troy before the 
 unarmed Achilles (Book XYIII.). On the twenty-seventh day 
 Achilles receives his armor and is reconciled to Agamemnon, 
 and before the evening has completed his revenge with the 
 death of Hector in the fourth battle of the poem. The next 
 two days are occupied in the preparation of the pyre of Patro- 
 clus, in the burning of his body, and in the games held in his 
 honor. For eleven days more Achilles continues his insults to 
 the body of Hector, so that it is not till the evening of the for- 
 tieth day that Priam comes to the camp for its recovery. On 
 the morning of the forty-first he returns with the corpse and 
 with the promise of a twelve days' truce. Nine days are then 
 occupied in laments and preparations. On the tenth the pyre 
 of Hector is built and burned, and on the eleventh, or fifty-first 
 of the whole action, his bones are interred and the mound above 
 them heaped. The night of that day is spent in the funeral 
 feast, and the war is expected to recommence on the next 
 morning. — J. G. Cordery. 
 
INDEX TO NOTES 
 
 Acheloiis, 162. 
 
 Achilles' wrath, 129. 
 
 iEolian, lio. 
 
 Ethiopia's blameless race, 139. 
 
 Aged Ocean, 138. 
 
 Ajax, 135, 142. 
 
 Aleian field, 118. 
 
 Amazons, 117. 
 
 Andromache, 119. 
 
 Antea, 145. 
 
 Architect divine, 141. 
 
 Argos, 131. 
 
 Around, 133. 
 
 Astyanax, 149. 
 
 Aton'd, 134. 
 
 Atrides, 130. 
 
 Axylus, 143. 
 
 Azure queen, 159. 
 
 Beech-tree, 148. 
 Black-ey'd maid, 134. 
 Blameless, 134. 
 Blue-hair'd sisters, 159. 
 Brother-kings, 131. 
 
 Calchas the wise, 134. 
 Cassandra, 163. 
 
 Chargers, 160. 
 Chimsera, 147. 
 Chryse'is, 131. 
 Cilia and Chrysa, 132. 
 Clytffimnestra, 134. 
 Confess'd, 135. 
 Consult, 140. 
 Creta's king, 1-35. 
 Cynthia, 162. 
 Cyprian queen, 159. 
 
 Dardan, 155. 
 Deiphobus, 155. 
 Dexter, 160. 
 Dome, 139. 
 Double bowl, 141. 
 
 Eetion, 138. 
 
 Embrace his knees, 139. 
 
 Empress Juno, 159. 
 
 Ephyre, 145. 
 
 Erring, 160. 
 
 Eury bates, 137. 
 
 Fair, 131. 
 
 Faithful servant, 143. 
 
 Fam'd streams, 142. 
 
 167 
 
168 
 
 INDEX TO NOTES 
 
 Fig-trees, 155. 
 Fure-right, 155. 
 Fourfold cone, 157. 
 
 Games, 158. 
 
 Glaucus and Diomedes, 144. 
 
 Glory, IGO. 
 
 Golden shield, 158. 
 
 Golden studs, 13(3. 
 
 Hecatomb, 133. 
 
 Hector's shield, 144. 
 
 Helen, 163. 
 
 Helenus, 144. 
 
 Hell, 143. 
 
 Hell receives the weight, 155. 
 
 Hermes, 158. 
 
 Herself a rock, 162. 
 
 Hippoplacia, 150. 
 
 Hyperia's spring, 151, 
 
 riad, 129. 
 
 II us' ancient marble, ICO. 
 
 Incumbent, 160. 
 
 Inhume, 162. 
 
 Instructs their hands, 149. 
 
 Instruments, 140. 
 
 Iris, 159. 
 
 Joined, 137. 
 Jove's bird, 157. 
 Juno, 133. 
 
 King of men, 130. 
 
 Laodice, 148. 
 Latona's son, 130. 
 Laws and justice, 136. 
 Lelegia's throne, 152. 
 Lines, 161. 
 
 Manes, 162. 
 Marble cisterns, 155. 
 Mark'd for war, 145. 
 Melancholy choir, 163. 
 Mid pavement, 160. 
 Monarch's right, 135. 
 Monument, 1,58. 
 Mother (Laothoe), 152. 
 Myrmidons, 13;5. 
 
 Naiad, 143. 
 Neoptolemus, 161. 
 Nestor, 136. 
 Nestor's son, 143. 
 Niobe, 162. 
 
 Obtests, 152. 
 Orion's dog, 151. 
 
 Pffians, 140. 
 Palladian dome, 149. 
 Parent goddess, 137. 
 Pedasus, 143. 
 Pelian jav'lin, 153. 
 Pelides' lofty tent, 161. 
 Percnos, 160. 
 Pha'be's dart, 148. 
 Phrebus, 131. 
 Phthia, 135. 
 
INDEX TO NOTES 
 
 169 
 
 Pirithous, 136. 
 Pluto, 130. 
 
 Poison of snakes, 153. 
 Prevalence, 157. 
 Prodigies, li". 
 
 Reign, 130. 
 Rev'rend priest, 130. 
 Ringlets, 149, 160. 
 Roof of shields, 151. 
 
 Sacred sceptre, 136. 
 
 Sacrifices, 139. 
 
 Samos, 159. 
 
 Saturnius, liO. 
 
 Scsean gate, 148. 
 
 Sceptre and the laurel crown, 
 
 130. 
 Sea, 137. 
 Second joy, 149. 
 Show, 1.55. 
 Silver spring, 160. 
 Sinthians, 141. 
 Sminthe\is, 132. 
 Smoke, 155. 
 Solymaeau crew, 147. 
 Soothsaying, 133. 
 Spartan spear, 143. 
 
 Stygian coast, 153. 
 
 Talthybius, 137. 
 Tamarisk, 143. 
 Ten cubits, 149. 
 Terms of peace, 153. 
 Teucer, 143. 
 Theano, 149. 
 Thebe, 138. 
 Told, 143. 
 Tritonia, 155. 
 Troilus, 160. 
 Tyre and Sidon, 149. 
 Tyrian dye, 148. 
 
 Unburied dead, 130. 
 
 Vapour, 155. 
 Vulcanian frame, 1.57. 
 
 Warlike maid, 139. 
 
 Warm limits, 139. 
 
 Wat'ry fairies, 1G2. 
 
 Writing in Homeric times, 146. 
 
 Xanthus, 163. 
 
 Zone unbraced, 153. 
 
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