Now he laments a look so falsely fair, And almost damns, what yet resembles her; Now he devours it, with his longing eyes; Now sated, from the lovely phantom flies, Yet burns to look again, yet looks again, and dies. Her ivory neck his lips presume to kiss, And his bold hands the swelling bosom press; The swain drinks in deep draughts of vain desire, Melts without heat, and burns in fancy'd fire. Strange power of paint! thou nice creator art! What love inspires, may life itself impart. Struck with like wounds, of old, Pygmalion pray'd, And hugg'd to life his artificial maid; Clasp, new Pygmalion, clasp the seeming charms, Perhaps ev'n now th' enlivening image warms, Destin'd to crown thy joys, and revel in thy arms: Thy arins, which shall with fire so fierce invade, That she at once shall be, and cease to be a maid. PART OF THE FOURTH BOOK OF LUCAN. Casar, having resolved to give battle to Petreius and Afranius, Pompey's lieutenants in Spain, encamped near the enemy in the same field. The behaviour of their soldiers, at their seeing and knowing one another, is the subject of the following verses. THEIR ancient friends, as now they nearer drew, Prepar'd for fight the wondering soldiers knew; Brother with brother, in unnatural strife, And the son arm'd against the father's life: Curst civil war! then conscience first was felt, And the tough veteran's heart began to melt. Fix'd in dumb sorrow all at once they stand, Then wave, a pledge of peace, the guiltless hand; To vent ten thousand struggling passions move, The stings of nature, and the pangs of love. All order broken, wide their arms they throw, And run, with transport, to the longing foe: Here the long-lost acquaintance neighbours claim, There an old friend recalls his comrade's name, Youths, who in arts beneath one tutor grew, Rone rent in twain, and kindred hosts they view. Tears wet their impious arms, a fond relief, And kisses, broke by sobs, the words of grief; Though yet no blood was spilt, each anxious mind With horrour thinks on what his rage design'd. Ah generous youths, why thus, with fruitless pain, 'Twas peace. From either camp, now void of fear The soldiers mingling chearful feasts prepare: On the green sod the friendly bowls were crown'd, And hasty banquets pil'd upon the ground: Around the fire they talk; one shows his scars, One tells what chance first led him to the wars I Their stories o'er the tedious night prevail, And the mute circle listens to the tale; They own they fought, but swear they ne'er could Deny their guilt, and lay the blame on Fate; Their love revives, to make them guiltier grow, A short-liv'd blessing, but to heighten woe. [hate, When to Petreius first the news was told, The jealous general thought his legions sold. Swift with the guards, his head-strong fury drew, From out his camp he drives the hostile crew; Cuts clasping friends asunder with his sword, And stains with blood each hospitable board. Then thus his wrath breaks out, "O! lost to fame! Oh! false to Pompey, and the Roman name! Can ye not conquer, ye degenerate bands? Oh! die at least; 'tis all that Rome demands. What! will ye own, while ye can wield the sword, A rebel standard, and usurping lord? Shall he be sued to take you into place Amongst his slaves, and grant you equal grace? What? shall my life be begg'd? inglorious thought! And life abhorr'd, on such conditions bought! The toils we bear, my friends, are not for life, Too mean a prize in such a dreadful strife; But peace would lead to servitude and shame, A fair amusement, and a specious name. Never had man explor'd the iron ore, Mark d out the trench, or rais'd the lofty tower, Ne'er had the steed in harness sought the plain, Or fleets encounter'd on th' unstable main; Were life, were breath, with fame to be compar'd Or peace to glorious liberty preferr`d. By guilty oaths the hostile army bound, Holds fast its impious faith, and stands its ground; Are you perfidious, who espouse the laws, And traitors only in a righteous cause? Oh shame! in vain through nations fir and wide, Thou call'st the crowding monarchs to thy side, Fall'n Pompey! while thy legions here betray Thy cheap-bought life, and treat thy fame away." He ended fierce. The soldier's rage returns, His blood flies upward, and his bosom burns. So, haply tam d, the tiger bears his bands, Less grimly growls, and licks his keeper's hands; But if by chance he tastes forbidden gore, He yells amain, and makes his dungeon roar. He glares, he foams, he aims a desperate bound, And his pale master flies the dangerous ground. faright Now deeds are done, which man might charge On stubborn Fate, or undiscerning Night, Had not their guilt the lawless soldiers known, And made the whole malignity their own. The beds, the plenteous tables, float with gore, And breasts are stabb'd, that were embrac'd before: Pity awhile their hands from slaughter kept; Inward they groan'd, and, as they drew, they wept: But every blow their wavering rage a 'sures, In murder hardens, and to blood inures. [descry, Crowds charge on crowds, nor friends their friends But sires by sons, and sons by fathers die. Black, monstrous rage! each, with victorious cries, Drags his slain frien i before the gencral's eyes, Fxults in guilt, that throws the only shame On Pompey's cause, and blots the Roman name. THE FIRST BOOK OF HOMER'S ILIAD. THE DEDICATION. WHEN I first entered upon this translation, I was ambitious of dedicating it to the earl of Halifax; but being prevented from doing myself that honour, by the unspeakable loss which our country hath sustained in the death of that extraordinary person, I hope I shall not be blamed for presuming to make a dedication of it to his memory. The greatness of his name will justify a practice altogether uncommon, and may gain favour towards a work, which (if it had deserved his patronage) is perhaps the only one inscribed to his lordship, that will escape being rewarded by him. I might have one advantage from such a dedication, that nothing, I could say in it, would be suspected of flattery. Besides that the world would take a pleasure in hearing those things said of this great man, now he is dead, which he himself would have been offended at when living. But though I am sensible, so amiable and exalted a character would be very acceptable to the public, were I able to draw it in its full extent; I should be censured very deservedly, should I venture upon an undertaking, to which I am by no means equal. ship's character, will know more justly how to account for it. The cause of liberty will receive no small advantage in future times, when it shall be observed that the earl of Halifax was one of the patriots who were at the head of it; and that most of those, who were eminent in the several parts of polite or useful learning, were by his influence and example engaged in the same interest. I hope therefore the public will excuse my ambition for thus intruding into the number of those applauded men, who have paid him this kind of homage: especially since I am also prompted to it by gratitude, for the protection with which he had begun to honour me; and do it at a time, when he cannot suffer by the importunity of my acknowledg ments. TO THE READER. I MUST inform the reader, that when I began this first book, I had some thoughts of translating the whole Iliad: but had the pleasure of being diverted from that design, by finding the work was fallen into a much abler hand. I would not therefore be thought to have any other view in publishing this small specimen of ilomer's Iliad, than to bespeak, if busi-possible, the favour of the public to a translation of Homer's Odysseis, wherein I have already made some progress. His consummate knowledge in all kinds of ness, his winning eloquence in public assemblies, his active zeal for the good of his country, and the share he had in conveying the supreme power to an illustrious family famous for being friends to mankind, are subjects easy to be enlarged upon, but incapable of being exhausted. The nature of the following performance more directly leads me to Jament the misfortune, which hath befallen the learned world, by the death of so generous and universal a patron. THE FIRST BOOK OF THE ILIAD. What god in strife the princes did engage? He rested not in a barren admiration of the polite arts, wherein he himself was so great a master; but was acted by that humanity they naturally inspire which gave rise to many excellent writers, who have cast a light upon the age in which he lived, and will distinguish it to posterity. It is well known, that very few celebrated pieces have been published for several years, but what were either promoted by his encouragement, or supported by his approbation, or recompensed by his bounty. For, wealth immense the holy Chryses bore, And if the succession of men, who excel in most of (His daughter's ransom) to the tented shore: the refined arts, should not continue; though some His sceptre stretching forth, the golden rod, Hung round with hallow'd garlands of his god, may impute it to a decay of genius in our country-Of all the host, of every princely chief, men; those, who are unacquainted with his lord- But first of Atreus' son he begg'd relief: Swept thro' the camp, and thinn'd the Grecian bands. "Great Atreus' sons and warlike Greeks attend. Thoughout the host consenting murmurs rise, Far from the camp he pass'd: then suppliant stood; "Dread warrior with the silver bow, give car. Apollo heard his injur'd suppliant's cry. Nine days entire he vex'd th' embattled host, "What now, O Atreus' son, remains in view, Such wisdom Phoebus gave. He thus began, "Me then command'st thou, lov'd of Jove, to show That, while these eyes behold the light, no hand Then boldly he. "Nor does the god complain The gifts rejected, and the priest abus'd, Augur of ills, (for never good to me A sweeter temper, or a lovelier face, In works of female skill hath more command, Nor is it meet, while each enjoys his share, To whom the swift pursuer quick reply'd: When Jove's decree shall throw proud Ilion dowa. "Think not," Atrides answer'd, "though thou Or thou, O mighty man, the chief shalt be. "Shameless, and poor of soul," the prince replies, "Hence!" cry'd the monarch, "hence! without Think not, vain man! my voice shall urge thy stay. That thou and each audacious man may see, Then thus with hasty words: "O! heavenly-born, Com'st thou to see proud Agamemnon's scorn? But thou shalt see (my sword shall make it good) This glutted sand smoke with the tyrant s blood.” 66 "To sooth thy soul" the blue-ey'd maid replies, (If thou obey my voice) I left the skies. [mand! Heaven's queen, who favours both, gave this comSuppress thy wrath, and stay thy vengeful hand. Be all thy rage in tauntful words exprest; But guiltless let the thirsty falchion rest. Mark what I speak. An hour is on its way, When gifts tenfold for this affront shall pay. Suppress thy wrath; and Heaven and me obey. Then he : Iyield; though with reluctant mind. Who yields to Heaven shall Heaven propitious find.” The silver hilt close-grasping, at the word, Deep in the sheath he plung'd his mighty sword. The god less, turning, darted from his sight, And reach'd Olympus in a moment's flight. But fierce Achilles, in a thundering tone, Throws out his wrath, and goes impetuous on: Valiant with wine, and furious from the bowl! Thou fierce-look'd talker with a coward soul! War's glorious peril ever slow to share: Aloof thou view'st the field; for Death is there, Tis greater far this peaceful camp to sway, And peel the Greeks, at will, who disobey: A tyrant lord o'er slaves to earth debas'd; For, had they souls, tais outrage were thy last. But, thon, my fix'd, my final purpose hear. by this dread sceptre solendy I swear: By this (which, once from out the forest torn, No leaf nor shade shall ever more adorn; Which never more its verlure must renew, Lopu'd from the vital stem, whence first it grew: But given by Jove the sons of men to awe, Now sways the nations, and confirms the law) A day shall come, when for this hour's disdain The Greeks shall wish for me, and wish in vain; Nor thou, though griev'd, the wanted aid afford, When heaps on heaps shall fall by Hector's sword: Too late with anguish shall thy heart be torn, That the first Greek was made the public scorn." He said. And, mounting with a furious bound, He dash'd his studded sceptre on the ground; Then sat. Atrides, eager to reply, On the fierce champion glanc'd a vengeful eye. 'Twas then, the madding monarchs to compose The Pylian prince, the smooth-speech'd Nestor rose. His tongue dropp'd honey. Full of days was he; Two ages past, he liv'd the third to see: And, his first race of subjects long decay'd, O'er their sons' sons a peaceful sceptre sway'd. "Alas for Greece!" he cries, "and with what joy | Obsequious at his call two heralds stand: Shall Priam hear, and every son of Troy! you, That the first in wisdom as in wars, Waste your great souls in poor ignoble jars! Go to you both are young. Yet oft rever'd Greater than you have the wise Nestor heard. Their equals never shall these eyes behold: Caneus the just, Pirithous the bold, Exadius, Dryas, born to high command, Shepherds of men, and rulers of the land, Theseus unrival`d in his sire's abodes, And mighty Polypheme, a match for gods. They, greatest names that ancient story knows, In mortal conflict met as dreadful foes: Fearless thro' rocks and wilds their prey pursued, And the huge double Centaur race subdued. With them my early youth was pleas'd to roam Through regions, far from my sweet native home; They call'd me to the wars. No living hand Could match their valour, or their strength withstand; Yet wont they oft my sage advice to hear. Then listen both, with an attentive ear. Seize not thou, king of men, the beauteous slave, Th' allotted prize the Grecian voices gave. Nor thou, Pelides, in a threatening tone Urge him to wrath, who fills that sacred throue, The king of forty kings, and honour'd more By mighty Jove, than e'er was king before. Brave though thou art, and of a race divine, Thou must obey a power more great than thine. And thou, O king, forbear. Myself will sue Great Thetis' son his vengeance to subdue : Great Thetis' valiant son, our country's boast, The shield and bulwark of the Grecian host." "Wise are thy words, O sire," the king began, "But what can satiate this aspiring man? Unbounded power he claims o'er human-kind, And hopes for slaves, I trust he ne'er shall find. Shall we, because the gods have form'd him strong, Bear the lewd language of his lawless tongue!" "If aw'd by thee, the Greeks might well despise My name," the prince, precipitate, replies, "In vain thou nodd'st from thy imperial throne. Thy vassals seek elsewhere: for I am none. But break we here. The fair, though justly mine, With sword undrawn I purpose to resign. On aught beside, I once for all command, Lay not, I charge thee, thy presumptuous hand. Come not within my reach, nor dare advance, Or thy heart's blood shall reek upon my lance." Thus both in foul debate prolong'd the day. The council broke, each takes his separate way. Achilles seeks his tent with restless mind; Patroclus and his train move slow behind. Mean time, a bark was haul'd along the san 1, Twice ten selected Greeks, a brawny band, Tug the tough oars, at the great king's command. The gifts, the hecatomb, the captive fair, Are all intrusted to Ulysses' care. They mount the deck. The vessel takes its flight, Bounds o'er the surge, aud lessens to the sight. Next he ordains along the winding coast By hallow'd rites to purify the host. A herd of chosen victims they provide, The Greeks to Heaven their solemn vows addrest; But dire revenge roll'd in the monarch's breast. To them in frowns he gives this harsh command. He ceas'd. Patroclus his dear friend obey'd, With out-stretch'd arins to his fond inother pray'd: Near her old sire enthron'd, she heard him weep cries, "Oh! goddess!" cry'd he, with an inward groan, Thou know'st it all: to thee are all things known. Fetian Thebes we sack'd, their ransack'd towers, The plunder of a people, all was ours. We stood agreed the booty to divide. Chrysers rosy-check'd, and glossy-ey'd, Fell to the king; but holy Chryses bore Vast gifts of ransom, to the tented shore: His sceptre stretching forth (the golden rod Hung round with hallow'd garlands of his god)' Of all the host, of every princely chief, But first of Atreus' sous, he begg'd relief. Throughout the host consenting murmurs ran, To yield her to the venerable man; But the harsh king deny'd to do him right, And drove the trembling prophet from his sight. Apollo heard his injar'd suppliant's cry, And dealt his arrows through th' infected sky; |