The Iliad of Homer Translated into English Blank Verse by...

A part of Mt. Ida. This place was celebrated, in subsequent times, for the worship of Jupiter. Several years ago, Dr. E.D. Clarke deposited, in the vestibule of the public library in Cambridge, England, a marble bust of Juno, taken from the ruins of this temple of Jupiter, at the base of Mt. Ida.—Felton

Jupiter’s declaring against the Greeks by thunder and lightning, is drawn (says Dacier) from truth itself. 1 Sam. ch. vii.: “And as Samuel was offering up the burnt-offering, the Philistines drew near to battle against Israel; but the Lord thundered on that day upon the Philistines and discomfited them.”

Nothing can be more spirited than the enthusiasm of Hector, who, in the transport of his joy, breaks out in the following apostrophe to his horses. He has, in imagination, already forced the Grecian entrenchments, set the fleet in flames, and destroyed the whole army.

From this speech, it may be gathered that women were accustomed to loosen the horses from the chariot, on their return from battle, and feed them; and from line 214, unless it is spurious, it seems that the provender was sometimes mixed with wine. It is most probable, however, that the line is not genuine.—Felton.

Homer describes a princess so tender in her love to her husband, that she meets him on his return from every battle, and, in the joy of seeing him again, feeds his horses with bread and wine, as an acknowledgment to them for bringing him back.—Dacier.

Jupiter, in answer to the prayer of Agamemnon, sends an omen to encourage the Greeks. The application of it is obvious: The eagle signified Hector, the fawn denoted the fear and flight of the Greeks, and being dropped at the altar of Jupiter, indicated that they would be saved by the protection of that god.

The simile is the most magnificent that can be conceived. The stars come forth brightly, the whole heaven is cloudless and serene, the moon is in the sky, the heights, and promontories, and forests stand forth distinctly in the light, and the shepherd rejoices in his heart. This last simple and natural circumstance is inexpressibly beautiful, and heightens the effect of the visible scene, by associating it, in the most direct and poetical manner, with the inward emotion that such a scene must produce.—Felton.

[In the original the word is—μελανυδρος—dark-watered; and it is rendered—deep—by the best interpreters, because deep waters have a blackish appearance. Δνοφερον υδωρ is properly water that runs with rapidity; water—μετα δονησεως φερομενον—See Villoisson.]—Tr.

This speech of Nestor is happily conceived. It belonged to him as the aged counsellor to begin the debate, by laying the subject before the assembly, especially as it was necessary to impale the blame of the present unfortunate condition of the army to Agamemnon. It would have been presumptuous in any other, and it was a matter of difficulty and delicacy even for Nestor.—Felton.

In the heroic age, the bridegroom, before marriage, was obliged to make two presents, one to his betrothed wife, and one to his father-in-law. This was also an ancient custom of the Hebrews. Abraham’s servant gave presents to Rebekah: Gen. xxiv. 22. Shechem promised a dowry and gift to Jacob for his daughter: Gen. xxiv. 12. And in after times, Saul said he desired no dowry for Michal: 1 Sam. xviii. 25.

Achilles having retired from action in displeasure to Agamemnon, quieted himself by singing to his lyre the achievements of demi-gods and heroes. Nothing was better suited to the martial disposition of this hero, than these heroic songs. Celebrating the actions of the valiant prepared him for his own great exploits. Such was the music of the ancients, and to such purposes was it applied. When the lyre of Paris was offered to Alexander, he replied that he had little value for it, but much desired that of Achilles, on which he sung the actions of heroes in former times.—Plutarch.

The manners of the Iliad are the manners of the patriarchal and early ages of the East. The chief differences arise from a different religion and a more maritime situation. Very far removed from the savage state on the one hand, and equally distant from the artificial state of an extended commerce and a manufacturing population on the other, the spirit and habitudes of the two modes of society are almost identical. The hero and the Patriarch are substantially coëval; but the first wanders in twilight, the last stands in the eye of Heaven. When three men appeared to Abraham in the plains of Mamre, he ran to meet them from the tent door, brought them in, directed Sarah to make bread, fetched from the herd himself a calf tender and good, dressed it, and set it before them. When Ajax, Ulysses, and Phœnix stand before Achilles, he rushes forth to greet them, brings them into the tent, directs Patroclus to mix the wine, cuts up the meat, dresses it, and sets it before the ambassadors. * * * *

Instances of this sort might be multiplied to any extent, but the student will find it a pleasing and useful task to discover them for himself; and these will amply suffice to demonstrate the existence of that correspondence of spirit and manners between the Homeric and the early ages of the Bible history, to which I have adverted. It is real and important; it affords a standard of the feelings with which we ought to read the Iliad, if we mean to read it as it deserves; and it explains and sets in the true point of view numberless passages, which the ignorance or frivolity of after-times has charged with obscurity, meanness or error. The Old Testament and the Iliad reflect light mutually on each other; and both in respect of poetry and morals (for the whole of Homer’s poetry is a praise of virtue, and every thing in him tends to this point, except that which is merely superfluous and for ornament) it may with great truth be said, that he who has the longest studied, and the most deeply imbibed, the spirit of the Hebrew Bible, will the best understand and the most lastingly appreciate the tale of Troy divine.—H.N. Coleridge.

[I have given this sense to the word Ζωροτερον—on the authority of the Venetian Scholium, though some contend that it should be translated—quickly. Achilles, who had reproached Agamemnon with intemperate drinking, was, himself, more addicted to music than to wine.]—Tr.

[It is not without authority that I have thus rendered κρειον μεγα. Homer’s banquets are never stewed or boiled; it cannot therefore signify a kettle. It was probably a kitchen-table, dresser, or tray, on which the meat was prepared for the spit. Accordingly we find that this very meat was spitted afterward.—See Schaufelbergerus.]—Tr.

There are no speeches in the Iliad better placed, better timed, or that give a greater idea of Homer’s genius than these of the ambassadors to Achilles. They are not only demanded by the occasion, but skilfully arranged, and in a manner that gives pleasure to the reader.

According to some ancient writers, Achilles was but twelve years of age when he went to the wars of Troy. And from what is here related of his education under Phœnix, it may be inferred, that the fable of his having been taught by Chiron is an invention of a later age and unknown to Homer.

The ancients gave the name of Jupiter not only to the God of heaven, but also to the God of hell, as is seen here; and to the God of the sea, as appears from Æschylus. They meant thereby to show that one sole deity governed the world. To teach this truth, statues were made of Jupiter which had three eyes. Priam had one in the court of his palace, which, in sharing the booty of the war of Troy, fell to the lot of Sthenelus, who carried it to Greece.—Dacier.

[Wrinkled—because the countenance of a man driven to prayer by a consciousness of guilt is sorrowful and dejected. Lame—because it is a remedy to which men recur late, and with reluctance. And slant-eyed—either because, in that state of humiliation they fear to lift their eyes to heaven, or are employed in taking a retrospect of their past misconduct.