Homer's language, and the kind of treatment it requires at the hand of an English translator.

It will be seen that one of the most difficult tasks will prove, according to the above reasoning, to be one of the least necessary ; for if words like πουλυβοτείραν, καλλιγύναικα, ἰχθυοέντα and the like are so purely accidental as we have described them, it will not be necessary for a translator to torture the English language into combinations for which no reader will thank him, or, in avoiding such combinations, to turn the epithet into a description, and so bring into relief that which in the original remains in the deepest possible shade. For the same reason, namely, that the accidental is not worth translating when the essential presents quite difficulties enough of its own, we think it a waste of time and labour to search for antiquated or provincial terms in order to represent that element of quaintness which was certainly one of the characteristics of Homer as viewed by a reader of the age of Pericles, and by those amongst us who are familiar with Attic literature. For the real question is, did Homer affect a quaintness for the men of his own time? Did he use antiquated language with the same intention as the author of the Faerie Queene,' or as Milton in his 'Ode on the Nativity,' because he thought them appropriate to his subject? Or did he merely employ them as helps to his versification? It is of course utterly hopeless for anyone to answer these questions out of the nature of the language itself, for we have no other monument of the same time to serve as a standard of comparison. But it is impossible to believe there ever could have been a period in which all the varieties of inflection which we see in him were used indifferently by the same people; nor do we agree with Müller's hypothesis that the poet, as a native of Smyrna, at a time when that town underwent a change from Æolian to Ionian inhabitants, was accustomed to a language in which the two dialects were blended, as we see them throughout his work. Such a mixture of inflections both of cases and tenses, and such an indifference of dialect, presents something factitious on the very face of it. Whence then could it have arisen? We answer, from the tradition of older bards, whose rich stores he would be only too glad to turn to account when contending with that divine metre which it is probable he also received from his predecessors.

If the essential beauties of the Iliad are the beauties of a welltold story, force in each particular enough to make each distinct, but not to suspend the flow of the narration, natural and characteristic touches in the speakers, but not so elaborated as to excite a dramatic in place of an epic curiosity, if, in short,

we

we are to look for that lively and refreshing effect analogous to what is produced by riding an easy-paced thorough-bred through a pure and bracing air over a diversified country, it will be easy for us to ascertain to what extent the perusal of Lord Derby's translation is fitted to produce a like pleasurable sensation in the reader. We therefore propose to lay before him a few passages by which he will be able to judge whether we are warranted in saying that his diction is forcible, his composition easy and flowing, and that we are carried along through 'the tale of Troy divine' with much of that cheerful vigour with which his great original has inspired so many generations of readers.

'As by the west wind driv'n, the ocean waves
Dash forward on the far-resounding shore,
Wave upon wave; first curls the ruffled sea
With whit'ning crests; anon with thund'ring roar
It breaks upon the beach, and from the crags
Recoiling flings in giant curves its head
Aloft, and tosses high the wild sea-spray :
Column on column, so the hosts of Greece
Pour'd, ceaseless, to the war; to each the chiefs
Their orders gave; the rest in silence mov'd:
Nor would ye deem that such a mighty mass,
So passing, could restrain their tongues, in awe
Of their great captains: far around them flash'd
The glitt'ring armour they were girt withal.

On th' other hand, the Trojans, as the flocks
That in the court-yard of some wealthy Lord.
In countless numbers stand, at milking-time,
Incessant bleating, as their lambs they hear;
So rose their mingled clamours through the camp;
For not one language nor one speech was there,
But many nations call'd from distant lands:
These Mars inspir'd and those the blue-ey'd Maid;
And Fear, and Flight, and Discord unappeas'd,
Of blood-stain'd Mars the sister and the friend:
With humble crest at first, anon her head,
While yet she treads the earth, affronts the skies.
The gage of battle in the midst she threw,

Strode through the crowd, and woe to mortals wrought.
When to the midst they came, together rush'd
Bucklers and lances, and the furious might
Of mail-clad warriors; bossy shield on shield
Clatter'd in conflict; loud the clamour rose.
Then rose too mingled shouts and groans of men
Slaying and slain; the earth ran red with blood.
As when, descending from the mountain's brow,
Two wintry torrents, from their copious source

Pour downward to the narrow pass, where meet
Their mingled waters in some deep ravine,
Their weight of flood; on the far mountain's side
The shepherd hears the roar; so loud arose

The shouts and yells of those commingling hosts.'

The next specimen that we shall offer is upon a gentler theme, and will afford an example of the manner in which the translator handles the Homeric dialogue :

'Thus as he spoke, great Hector stretch'd his arms
To take his child; but back the infant shrank,
Crying, and sought his nurse's shelt'ring breast,
Scar'd by the brazen helm and horse-hair plume,
That nodded, fearful, on the warrior's crest.
Laugh'd the fond parents both, and from his brow
Hector the casque remov'd, and set it down,
All glitt'ring, on the ground; then kiss'd his child,
And danc'd him in his arms; then thus to Jove
And to th' Immortals all address'd his pray'r:

66

Grant, Jove, and all ye Gods, that this my son
May be, as I, the foremost man of Troy,

For valour fam'd, his country's guardian King;
That men may say, 'This youth surpasses far
His father,' when they see him from the fight,
From slaughter'd foes, with bloody spoils of war
Returning, to rejoice his mother's heart!"

Thus saying, in his mother's arms he plac'd
His child; she to her fragrant bosom clasp'd,
Smiling through tears; with eyes of pitying love
Hector beheld, and press'd her hand, and thus
Address'd her "Dearest, wring not thus my heart!
For till my day of destiny is come,

No man may take my life; and when it comes,
Nor brave nor coward can escape that day.
But go thou home, and ply thy household cares,
The loom and distaff, and appoint thy maids
Their sev'ral tasks; and leave to men of Troy
And, chief of all to me, the toils of war."

The Greek scholar will recognise the almost exact faithfulness of the translation in these specimens, and we think that any reader will admit that they possess spirit and vitality. No one will pretend that they are as spirited as Homer, or that they can boast of the same rich and sonorous harmonies; and there may be some persons who will say that this deficiency of our language and metres should at least have been compensated for by rhyme; but it must be remembered that the first condition of the possibility of rhyme is, that you should be allowed to deal more freely with your original both in the way of

omission

omission and of supplement. Now with more artificial poets such a compromise would be legitimate. If in rendering an author full of conceits you suppress some of his, and endue him with some of your own, and are by such means enabled to present the reader with a richer versification, few persons would demur to such a degree of license; but if there is any author who ought not to be subjected to such treatment, it is Homer. But if rhyme is too expensive a mode of enriching a translation, is there any other more cheap and sober condiment? Yes, there is the British dactyl, which, like many other British substitutes for foreign delicacies, has been pronounced quite equal to the genuine article.

The controversy about English hexameters is wearisome and unprofitable; wearisome, because those who are thoroughly acquainted with the metre have no new facts to learn, while those who are merely familiar with the jingle cannot fail to resent the introduction of the technical terms of an art to which they have served no apprenticeship; it is also profitless, because the champions of this new system are continually shifting their ground, and, if driven from every other, are ready to plead the satisfaction of their individual ears as an answer to all objections. Our remarks, therefore, on this subject, shall be as brief as untechnical, and, let us add, as impersonal, as we can make them.

We will begin with admitting that we cannot conceive any distinction whatsoever between the Greek and the Latin hexameter. All the arguments derived from the fact that the Latin accentuation is different from the Greek either prove too much, or are nothing to the purpose; for they either show that short and long syllables had no practical difference for the ear, in which case how shall we account for the difference between short and long having served as the basis of versification from Homer down to Tzetzes? Or if all that is intended be to show that in the pronunciation of a Greek verse the grammatical accent upon one syllable may have modified the metrical stress upon another, this is no more than what we meet with in the recitation of any

In

If anything could shake our convictions on this point, it would be Mr. Worsley's excellent translation of the Odyssey into the Spenserian stanza. this work we see at once a scholar-like appreciation of the original, and a pure, elegant, and forcible English diction. And we must admit that he has met the exigencies of his rhyme with a skill which leaves no trace of effort behind it, and that his little supplements are so well-toned and so unobtrusive, ut per laeve severos Effundat junctura ungues.

We may notice here the recent appearance-at the same moment with Lord Derby's work-of a spirited and faithful translation of the 'Jerusalem Delivered,' by Sir J. Kingston James; and of the very remarkable prose translation of Lucretius, by Mr. Munro, in his able and scholar-like edition of that great poet.

modern

modern language where the logical emphasis often throws the rhyme into comparative shade; but yet we feel that the rhyme is there, and the ear is prepared to insist upon having it.

A great deal of misconception has arisen from not understanding the nature of the pause or cæsura, the true object of which was to divide the verse into two unequal parts; and the object again of this unequal division was to prevent monotony. The two unequal parts combine into a whole; whereas, if they were equal, or if there were no division, the sense of the unity of each line would entirely disappear, since the parts might belong just as well, the first to the preceding line, and the second to that which followed. It is the variety which produces the unity. Nothing shows this so plainly as that which at first sight would seem an exception; the tetrameter iambic and trochaic lines are divided in the middle. What is the consequence? In order to re-establish the inequality these lines are curtailed of one syllable; while in the anapastic measure, which, according to the old metrical doctrine, was not divided into lines at all, this sense of equality is maintained until the ear is relieved by a similar truncated verse at the end of each system. Perfectly distinct from this division, though in perfect rhythmical lines it coincides with it, is the ictus, or stress upon every alternate foot; and distinct again from that is the length or shortness of the syllables. It is perfectly easy to make any number of English lines in which the division or cæsura is observed, and so to arrange the words as to preserve the proper number and place of accentuated syllables; but how are we to comply with the requirements touching long and short syllables? We have no such,' says one maker of English heroics, they are long or short according to the presence or absence of stress.' 'We have plenty of natural longs and shorts,' says another. To the first we answer that it is one thing to huddle over a syllable because it is in the shade, and another to feel and know that it is short. When Dr. Watts sings in a Sapphic Ode upon the day of judgment, which he doubtless composed judicium expectans,

'How the poor sailors stand amazed and tremble!'

he intended us to pronounce poor, as long, the second syllable in sailor, as long, stand, as short, and and, as short. We can make an equally good hexameter line, and reverse the quantities.

How the poor sailors amazed stand pale and gaze at the tempest!' It is surely obvious that when syllables are neither so long but that you can make them short, nor so short but that you can make them long, just so much of the rhythm as depends upon

length