143697085.23.Pdf
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
'JIMkfi -rr-rrTnT;mpriinBBirMiirniii i i. — ■ mrrnmimmmaiUumu/m 1 '**' i L' i \nmmi \ ***■— ^ -yi^rry-.ar' *??• “*ae «■ ‘ 1 rmvtimriiiimnmihaii:-^ ■ ; ' J J T H g BRITISH POETS. VOL. XXIII. EDINBURGH: Printed for A. KINCAID and W. C R E E C H, and J. BALFOUR. M, DCC, LXXIII. i THE ILIAD O F HOMER, TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK BT ALEXANDER POPE, E% VOLUME r. Te fequor, O Graiae gentis decus! inquc tuis nunc Fixa pedum pono preffis venigia llgnis: Hon ita certandi cupidus, quam propter amorem, Quod te imitari aveo- Luc RET. EDINBURGH: Printed for A. KINCAID and W. CREECH, and J. BALFOUR. M, DCC, LXXIIL THE ILIAD. BOOK I. THE ARGUMENT. The contention of Achilles and Agamemnon. In the war of Troy, the Greeks having facked feme,of the neighbouring towns, and taken from thence two beautiful captures, Chryfeis and Brifeis, allot- ted the firft to Agamemnon, and the laft to Achil- les. Chryfes, the father of Chryfeis, and the priefl: of Apollo, comes to the Grecian camp to ranfom her ; with which the attion of the poem opens, in the tenth year of the liege. The pried being re- fufed, and infolently difmilled by Agamemnon, in- treats for vengeance from his god, who inflhds a pedilence on the Greeks. Achilles calls a council, and encourages Calchas to declare the caufe of it; who attributes it to the refufal of Chryfeis. The king being obliged to fend back his captive, enters into a furious conted with Achilles, which Nedor « ARGUMENT. pacifies: However, as he had the abfolute command of the army, he feizes on Brifeis, in revenge. A- ehilles in difcontent withdraws himfelf and his for- ces from the reft of the Greeks; and complaining to Thetis, fhe fupplicates Jupiter to render them fenfible of the wrong done to her fon, by giving victory to the Trojans. Jupiter granting her fuit, incenfes Juno, between whom the debate runs high, till they are reconciled by the addrefs of Vul- can. The time of two and twenty days is taken up in this book ; nine during the plague, one in the council and quarrel of the princes, and twelve for Jupiter’s flay with the Ethiopians, at whofe return Thetis prefers her petition. The feene lies in the Grecian camp, then changes to Chryfa, and laftly to Olym- pus. BOOK I. A C HILLES’ wrath, to Greece the direful fpring Of woes unnumber’d, heav’nly Goddefs, fing ; That wrath which hurl’d to Pluto’s gloomy reiga The fouls of mighty chiefs untimely flain; Whole limbs unbury’d on the naked fhore, Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore : Since great Achilles and Atrides flrove, Such was thefov’reign doom, andfuch the will of Jove Declare, O Mufe! in what ill-fated hour Sprung the fierce ftrife, from what offended pow’r ! Latona’s fon, a dire contagion Ipread, And heap’d the camp with mountains of the dead; The king of men his rev’rend prieft defy’d; And for the king’s offence the people dy’d. For Chryfes fought with coftly gifts to gain His captive daughter from the viftor’s chain. Suppliant the venerable father (lands, Apollo’s awful enfigns grace his hands : By thefe he begs : And lowly bending down, Extends the fcepter and the laurel crown. He fu’d to all, but chief implor’d for grace The brother-kings, of Atreus’ royal race. Ye kings and warriors! may your vows be crown’d, And Troy’s proud walls lie level with the ground. May Jove reftore you, when your toils are o’er, Safe to the pleafures of your native Ihore. But oil ! relieve a wretched parent’s pain, And give Chryfeis to thefe arms again ; A 4 8 H 0 M E R’s ILIAD. ifj. If mercy fail, yet let my prefents move ; And dread avenging Phoebus, fon of Jove. The Greeks in (bouts their joint afTent declare, The pried to rev’rence, and releat'e the fair : Not fo Atrides : He, with kingly pri de. Repuls’d the facred fire, and thus reply’d. Hence, on thy life, and fly thefe hoflile plains. Nor a(k, prefumptuous, uhat the king detains : Hence with thy laurel crown, and golden rod, Nor trurt too far thofe enfigns of thy God. Mine is thy daughter, pried, and ihall remain ; And pray’rs, and tears, and bribes ihall plead in vain Till time (hall rifle ev’ry youthful grace, And age difmifs her from my cold embrace. In daily labours of the loom employ’d. Or doom’d to deck the bed (he once enjoy’d. Hence, then, to Argos Ihall the maid retire, Far from her native foil, and weeping fire. The trembling pried along the fhore return’d. And in the anguifh of a father mourn’d. Difconfulate, nor daring to complain, Silent he wander’d by the founding main : Till, fate at didance to his God he prays, The God who darts around the world his rays. O Smintheus! fprung from fair Latona’s line. Thou guardian pow’r of Cilia the divine. Thou fource of light! whom Tenedos adores, And whofe bright prefence gilds thy Chryfa’s (bores If e’er with wreaths I hung thy facred fane, Or fed the flames with fat of oxen (lain ; God of the filver bow ! thy (hafts employ. Avenge thy fervant, and the Greeks dedroy. H 0 M E R’s ILIAD. <Ji. Thus Chryfes pray’d ; the fav’ring povv’r attends, And from Olympus’ lofty tops defcends. Lent was his how, the Grecian hearts to wound; Fierce as he mov’d, his filver (hafts refound. Breathing revenge, a Bidden night be fpread. And gloomy darknefs roll’d about his head. The fieet in view, he twang’d his deadly bow, And hiding flv the feather’d fates below. On mules and dogs th’ infedtion drfl began ; And lad, the vengeful arrows fix’d in man. For nine long nights, thro’ all the dulky air The pyres thick-flaming (hot a dilmal glare. But ere the tenth revolving day was run, Infpir’d by Juno, Thetis’ godlike fon Conven’d to council all the Grecian train; For much the goddefs mo»rn’d her hqroes flain. Th’ affembly feated, riling o’er the reft, Achilles thus the king of men addreft. Why leave we not the fatal Trojan thore, And meafdre back the feas weerofs’d before ? The plague deftroying whom the fword would fpare ’Tis time to have the few remains of war. But let fome prophet, or fome facred fage, Explore the caufe of great Apollo’s rage ; Or learn the wafteful vengeance to remove, By royftic dreams, for dreams defeend from Jove. If broken vows this heavy curfc have laid. Let altars fmoke, and hecatombs be paid. Lo heav’n aton’d (hall dying Greece reftore, And Phoebus dart his burning (hafts no more. He faid, and fat: When Calchas thus reply’d ; Caichas the wife, the Grecian prieft and guide, 16 H 0 M E R’s ILIA D. 93. That facred fecr, wbofe comprehenfive view The pall, the prefent, and the future knew : L'prillng flow, the venerable fage. Thus fpoke the prudence and the fears of age. Belov’d of Jove, Achilles 1 would’ft thou know Why angry Phoebus bends his fatal bow ? Firft give thy faith, and plight a prince’s word Of Pure proteftion, by thy power and fword. For I mufl /peak what wifdom would conceal, And truths, invidious to the great, reveal. Bold is the talk, when fubjefts grown too wife, Inltruft a monarch where his error lies; For tho’ we deem the fhort-liv’d fury part, ’Tis Pure the mighty will revenge at laft. To whom Pelides. From thy inmoft foul Speak what thou know’ll, and Ppeak without controul. Ev’n by that God I fwear, who rules the day, To whom thy hands the vows of Greece convey, And whofe blePs’d oracles thy lips declare ; Long as Achilles breathes this vital air, No daring Greek of all the num’rous band, Againft his pried (hall lift an impious hand : Not even the chief, by whom our hods are led. The king of kings, (hall touch that Pacred head. Encourag’d thus, the blamelefs man replies : Norvows unpaid, nor llighted facrifice. But he, our chief, provok’d the raging ped, Apollo’s vengeance for his injur’d pried. Nor will the God’s awaken'd fury ceafe, But plagues (hall fpread, and fun’ral fires incrcafc, Till the great king, without a ranfom paid, To her own ChryPa Pend the black-ey’d maid. tl 0 M E R’s ILIAD. U5* II Perhaps, with adding facrifice and pray’r, The prieft may pardon, and the god may fpare. The prophet fpoke; when with a gloomy frown The monarch darted from his fhining throne : Black choler fill’d his bread that boil’d with ire, And from his eye-balls flalh’d the living fire. Augur accurs’d, denouncing mifchief dill. Prophet of plagues, for ever boding ill! Still mud that tongue fome wounding meflage bring, And dill thy priedly pride provoke thy king ? For this are Phoebus’ oracles explor’d, To teach the Greeks to murmur at their lord ? For this with falfehoods is my honour dain’d. Is heav’n offended, and a pried profan’d; Becaufe my prize, my beauteous maid I hold, And heav’nly charms prefer to proffer’d gold ? A maid, unmatch’d in manners as in face, Skill’d in each art, and crown’d with ev’ry grace.