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Where round the bed whence Acheloüs springs,
The watery fairies dance in mazy rings,
There high on Sipylus's shaggy brow
She stands, her own sad monument of woe;
The rock for ever lasts, the tears for ever flow.

"Such griefs, O king! have other parents known;
Remember theirs, and mitigate thy own.
The care of Heaven thy Hector has appear'd,
Nor 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."

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 separate morsels lays,
And, hasty, snatches from the rising blaze.
With bread the glittering canisters they load,
Which round the board Automedon bestow'd:
The chief himself to each his portion plac'd,
And each indulging shar'd in sweet repast.
When now the rage of hunger was represt,
The wondering 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;
And there, the mild benevolence of age.
Thas 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:
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,
I share thy banquet, and consent to live."
With that, Achilles bade prepare the bed,
With purple soft, and shaggy carpets spread ;
Forth, by the flaming lights, they bend their
way,

And place the couches, and the coverings lay.
Then he: "Now, father, sleep, but sleep not here;
Consult thy safety, and forgive my fear;
Lest any Argive (at this hour awake,
To ask our counsel, or our orders take)
Approaching sudden to our open'd tent,
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
To inter thy Hector? For, so long we stay
Our slaughtering 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
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 funeral and the feast;
The next, to raise his monument be given;
The twelfth we war, if war be doom'd by Heaven!"
"This thy request," reply'd the chief, "enjoy;
Till then, our arms suspend the fall of Troy,"

Then gave his hand at parting, to prevent
The old man's fears, and turn'd within the tent;
Where fair Briseïs, bright in blooming charms,
Expects her hero with desiring arms.

But in the porch, the king and herald rest;
Sad dreams of care yet wandering in their breast.
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 power descending hover'd o'er his head :
"And sleep'st thou, father!" (thus the vision said)
"Now dost thou sleep, when Hector is restor'd?
Nor fear the Grecian foes, or Grecian lord?
Thy presence here should stern Atrides see,
Thy still-surviving sons may sue for thee,
May 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, And moves in silence through 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.
Now shed Aurora round her saffron ray,

Sprung thro' the gate of light, and gave the day:
Charg'd with their mournful load, to Ilion go
The sage and king, majestically slow.
Cassandra first beholds, from Ilion's spire,
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 shower of tears o'erflows her beauteous eyes,
Alarming thus all Ilion with her cries: [employ,
"Turn here your steps, and here your eyes
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!
Your common triumph, and your common woe."
In thronging crowds they issue to the plains;
Nor man, nor woman, in the walls remains:
In every face the self-same grief is shown;
And Troy sends forth one universal groan.
At Scæan'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;
And there had sigh'd and sorrow'd out the day:
But godlike Priam from the chariot rose;
"Forbear," he cry'd, "this violence of woes!
First to the palace let the car proceed,
Then pour your boundless sorrows o'er the dead."
The waves of people at his word divide,
Slow rolls the chariot through 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,

With 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 every pause of art.

First to the corpse the weeping consort flew ;
Around his neck her milk-white arms she threw,
And, "Oh, my Hector! oh, my lord!" she cries,
"Snatch'd in thy bloom from these desiring eyes!
Thou to the dismal realms for ever gone!
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;
For Ilion now (her great defender slain)
Shall sink a smoking ruin on the plain.
Who now protects her wives with guardian care?
Who saves her infants from the rage of war?
Now hostile fleets must waft those infants o'er
(Those wives must wait them) to a foreign shore!
Thou too, my son! to barbarous climes shalt go,
The sad companions of thy mother's woe:
Driven hence a slave before the victor's sword;
Condemn'd to toil for some inhuman lord:
Or else some Greek, whose father prest the plain,
Or son, or brother, by great Hector slain;
In Hector's blood his vengeance shall enjoy,
And hurl thee headlong from the towers of Troy.
For thy stern father never spar'd a foe:
Thence all these tears, and ail 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?
Some word thou would'st have spoke, which, sadly
My soul might keep, or utter with a tear; [dear,
Which never, never could be lost in air,
Fix'd in my heart, and oft repeated there!"
Thus to her weeping maids she makes her moan:
Her weeping handmaids echo groan for groan.

The mournful mother next sustains her part:
"Oh thou, the best, the dearest to my heart!
Of all my race thou most by Heaven approv'd,
And by th' immortals ev'n in death belov'd!
While all my other sons in barbarous bands
Achilles bound, and sold to foreign lands,
This felt no chains, but went, a glorious ghost,
Free and a hero, to the Stygian coast.
Sentenc'd, 'tis true, by his inhuman doom,
Thy noble corpse was dragg'd around the tomb
(The tomb of him thy warlike arm had slain);
Ungenerous insult, impotent and vain!

Yet glow'st thou fresh with every living grace;
No mark of pain, or violence of face;
Rosy and fair, as Phoebus' 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

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 mind;
Now twice ten years (unhappy years!) are o'er
Since Paris brought me to the Trojan shore;
(O had I perish'd ere that form divine
Seduc'd this soft, this easy heart of mine!)
Yet was it ne'er my fate, from thee to find
A deed ungentle, or a word unkind :
When others curst the authoress of their woe,
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,
The wretched source of all this misery!
The fate 1 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!"

So spoke the fair, with sorrow-streaming eye:
Distressful beauty melts each stander-by;

On all around th' infectious sorrow grows}
But Priam check'd the torrent as it rose :—
"Perform, ye Trojans! what the rites require,
And fell the forests for a funeral pyre;
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,
Pour thro' the gates, and, fell'd from Ida's crown,
Roll back the gather'd forests to the town.
These toils continue nine succeeding days,
And high in air a sylvan structure raise;
But when the tenth fair morn began to shine,
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.
Soon as Aurora, daughter of the dawn,
With rosy lustre streak'd the dewy lawn,
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,
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 don
Watch'd from the rising to the setting Sun).
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,

And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade.

HOMER'S ODYSSEY.

IN TWENTY-FOUR BOOKS.

A GENERAL VIEW OF THE
EPIC POEM,

AND OF

THE ILIAD AND ODYSSEY.

EXTRACTED FROM BOSSU.

SECT. I.

OF THE NATURE OF EPIC POETRY.

THE fables of poets were originally employed i representing the divine nature, according to th notion then conceived of it. This sublime subjec occasioned the first poets to be called divines, an poetry the language of the gods. They divide the divine attributes into so many persons; be cause the infirmity of a human mind cannot suff ciently conceive, or explain, so much power an action in a simplicity so great and indivisible a that of God. And, perhaps, they were also jealo of the advantages they reaped from such excellen and exalted learning, and of which they though the vulgar part of mankind was not worthy.

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OF THE ILIAD They could not describe the operations of this almighty cause, without speaking at the same time of its effects: so that to divinity, they added physiology; and treated of both, without quitting the umbrages of their allegorical expressions. But man being the chief and the most noble of all that God produced, and nothing being so proper, or more useful to poets, than this subject; they added it to the former, and treated of the doctrine of morality after the same manner as they did that of divinity and philosophy; and fron morality, thus treated, is formed that kind of and fable which we call Epic. poem

AND ODYSSEY.

159

work, and all its parts: thus, since the end of the
epic poem is to regulate the manners, it is with this
first view the poet ought to begin.

But there is a great difference between the phi-
losophical and the poetical doctrine of manners.
The schoolmen content themselves with treating
of virtues and vices in general; the instructions
But the poet has a nearer regard to
they give are proper for all states of people, and
his own country, and the necessities of his own
for all ages.
With this design he makes choice of some
nation.
can imagine; and in order to press this home, he
piece of morality, the most proper and just he
makes less use of the force of reasoning, than of
to the particular customs and inclinations of those
the power of insinuation; accommodating himself
who are to be the subject, or the readers, of his
work.

The poets did the same in morality, that the divines had done in divinity. But that infinite variety of the actions and operations of the divine nature (to which our understanding bears so small a proportion) did, as it were, force them upon dividing the single idea of the Only One God into several persons, under the different names of Ju-self in these respects. piter, Juno, Neptune, and the rest.

And on the other hand, the nature of moral philosophy being such, as never to treat of things in particular, but in general; the epic poets were obliged to unite in one single idea, in one and the same person, aud in an action which appeared singular, all that looked like it in different persons and in various actions; which might be thus contained as so many species under their genus.

The presence of the Deity, and the care such an august cause is to be supposed to take about any action, obliges the poet to represent this action as great, important, and managed by kings and princes. It obliges him likewise to think and speak in an elevated way above the vulgar, and in a style that may in some sort keep up the character of the divine persons he introduces. To this end serve the poetical and figurative expression, and the majesty of the heroic verse.

But all this, being divine and surprising, may quite rain all probability; therefore the poet should take a particular care as to that point, since his chief aim is to instruct, and without probability any action is less likely to persuade.

Lastly, since precepts ought to be concise, to be the more easily conceived, and less oppress the memory; and since nothing can be more effectual to this end than proposing one single idea, and collecting all things so well together, as to be present to our minds all at once; therefore the poets have reduced all to one single action, under one and the same design, and in a body whose members and parts should be homogeneous.

Let us now see how Homer has acquitted him

He saw the Grecians, for whom he designed his
Each was a body politic apart,
poem, were divided into as many states as they
and had its form of government independent from
had capital cities.
all the rest. And yet these distinct states were very
their common enemies. These were two very diffe-
often obliged to unite together in one body against
comprehended in one maxim of morality, and in
rent sorts of government, such as could not be
one single poem.

The poet, therefore, has made two distinct fables of them. The one is for Greece in general, united into one body, but composed of parts independent on each other; and the other for each particular out the former circumstances and the necessity of state, considered as they were in time of peace, withbeing united.

As for the first sort of government, in the union, or rather in the confederacy of many independent "That nothing so much causes success as a due states; experience has always made it appear, the chief commanders. And on the other hand, subordination, and a right understanding among the inevitable ruin of such confederacies proceeds from the heats, jealousies, and ambition of the to a single general." All sorts of states, and in different leaders, and the discontents of submitting So that the most useful and necessary particular the Grecians, had dearly experienced this truth. instruction that could be given them, was, to lay before their eyes the loss which both the people ambition, discord, and obstinacy of the latter. and the princes must of necessity suffer, by the

Homer then has taken for the foundation of his

What we have observed of the nature of the epic poem, gives us a just idea of it, and we may de-fable this great truth: That a misunderstanding fine it thus:

between princes is the ruin of their own states. "I sing," says he, "the anger of Achilles, so pernicious to the Grecians, and the cause of so many

"The epic poem is a discourse invented by art, to form the manners, by such instructions as are ration of Agamemnon and that prince." disguised under the allegories of some one im-heroes' deaths, occasioned by the discord and sepa portant action, which is related in verse, after a probable, diverting, and surprising manner."

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But that this truth may be completely and fully known, there is need of a second to support it. It is necessary, in such a design, not only to represent the confederate states at first disagreeing among themselves, and from thence unfortunate; but to show the same states afterwards reconciled and united, and of consequence victorious.

Let us now see how he has joined all these in one general action.

"Several princes independent on one another

were united against the common enemy. The person whom they had elected their general, offers an affront to the most valiant of all the confederates. This offended prince is so far provoked, as to relinquish the union, and obstinately refuse to fight for the common cause. This misunderstanding gives the enemy such an advantage, that the allies are very near quitting their design with dishonour. He himself who made the separation, is not exempt from sharing the misfortune which he brought upon his party. For having permitted his intimate friend to succour them in a great necessity, this friend is killed by the enemy's general. Thus the contending princes, being both made wiser at their own cost, are reconciled, and unite again: then this valiant prince not only obtains the victory in the public cause, but revenges his private wrongs, by killing with his own hands the author of the death of his friend."

This is the first platform of the poem, and the fiction which reduces into one important and universal action all the particulars upon which it turns.

In the next place it must be rendered probable by the circumstances of times, places, and persons: some persons must be found out, already known by history or otherwise, whom we may with probability make the actors and personages of this fable. Homer has made choice of the siege of Troy, and feigned that this action happened there. To a phantom of his brain, whom he would paint valiant and choleric, he has given the name of Achilles; that of Agamemnon to his general; that of Hector to the enemy's commander, and so to the rest.

Besides, he was obliged to accommodate himself to the manners, customs, and genius of the Greeks his auditors, the better to make them attend to the instruction of his poem: and to gain their approbation by praising them; so that they might the better forgive him the representation of their own faults in some of his chief personages. admirably discharges all these duties, by making these brave princes and those victorious people all Grecians, and the fathers of those he had a mind to commend.

He

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There are two virtues necessary to one in authority; prudence to order, and care to see his orders put in execution. The prudence of a politician is not acquired but by a long experience in all sorts of business, and by an acquaintance with all the different forms of governments and states. The care of the administration suffers not him that has the government to rely upon others, but requires his own presence: and kings, who are absent from their states, are in danger of losing them, and give occasion to great disorders and confusion.

These two points may be easily united in one and the same man. dom to visit the courts of several princes, where "A king forsakes his kinghe learns the manners and customs of different nations. From hence there naturally arises a vast number of incidents, of dangers, and of adventures, very useful for a political institution. On the other side, this absence gives way to the disorders which happen in his own kingdom, and which end not till his return, whose presence only can re-establish all things." Thus the absence of a king has the same effects in this fable, as the division of the princes had in the former.

But not being content, in a work of such a length, to propose only the principal point of the The subjects have scarce any need but of one moral, and to fill up the rest with useless orna- general maxim, which is, to suffer themselves to ments and foreign incidents, he extends this moral be governed, and to obey faithfully; whatever reaby all its necessary consequences. As for instance, son they may imagine against the orders they rein the subject before us, it is not enough to know ceive. It is easy to join this instruction with the that a good understanding ought always to be other, by bestowing on this wise and industrious maintained among confederates: it is likewise of prince such subjects as, in his absence, would equal importance that, if there happens any di- rather follow their own judgment than his comvision, care must be taken to keep it secret from mands; and by demonstrating the misfortunes the enemy, that their ignorance of this advantage which this disobedience draws upon them, the evil may prevent their making use of it. And in the consequences which almost infallibly attend these second place, when their concord is but counter-particular notions, which are entirely different. feit and only in appearance, one should never from the general idea of him who ought to gopress the enemy too closely; for this would discover the weakness which we ought to conceal from them.

The episode of Patroclus most admirably furnishes us with these two instructions. For when he appeared in the arms of Achilles, the Trojans, who took him for that prince now reconciled and united to the confederates, immediately gave ground, and quitted the advantages they had before over the Greeks. But Patroclus, who should

vern.

But as it was necessary that the princes in the Iliad should be choleric and quarrelsome, so it is necessary in the fable of the Odyssey that the chief person should be sage and prudent. This raises a difficulty in the fiction; because this person ought to be absent for the two reasons above mentioned, which are essential to the fable, and which constitute the principal aim of it: but he cannot absent himself, without offending against

another maxim of equal importance, viz. That a king should upon no accounts leave his country. It is true, there are sometimes such necessities as sufficiently excuse the prudence of a politician in this point. But such a necessity is a thing important enough of itself to supply matter for another poem, and this multiplication of the action would be vicious. To prevent which, in the first place, this necessity, and the departure of the hero, must be disjoined from the poem; and in the second place, the hero having been obliged to absent himself, for a reason antecedent to the action, and placed distinct from the fable, he ought not so far to embrace this opportunity of instructing himself, as to absent himself voluntarily from his own government. For, at this rate, his absence would be merely voluntary, and one might with reason lay to his charge all the disorders which might arise.

Thus, in the constitution of the fable, he ought not to take for his action, and for the foundation of his poem, the departure of a prince from his own country, nor his voluntary stay in any other place; but his return, and this return retarded against his will. This is the first idea Homer gives us of it. His hero appears at first in a desolate island, sitting upon the side of the sea, which, with tears in his eyes, he looks upon as the obstacle which had so long opposed his return, and detained him from revisiting his own dear country.

And lastly, since this forced delay might more naturally and usually happen to such as make voyages by sea; Homer has judiciously made choice of a prince, whose kingdom was in an island.

Let us see then how he has feigned all this action, making his hero a person in years, because years are requisite to instruct a man in prudence and policy.

"A prince had been obliged to forsake his native country, and to head an army of his subjects in a foreign expedition. Having gloriously performed this enterprise, he was marching home again, and conducting his subjects to his own state. But spite of all the attempts, with which the eagerness to return had inspired him, he was stopt by the way by tempests for several years, and cast upon several countries, differing from each other in manners and government. In these dangers, his companions, not always following his orders, perished through their own fault. The grandees of his country strangely abuse his absence, and raise no small disorders at home. They consume his estate, conspire to destroy his son, would constrain his queen to accept of one of them for her husband; and indulge themselves in all violence, so much the more, because they were persuaded he would never return. But at last he returns, and discovering himself only to his son and some others, who had continued firm to him, he is an eye-witness of the insolence of his enemies, punishes them according to their deserts, and restores to his island that tranquility and repose to which they had been strangers during his ab

sence."

As the truth, which serves for foundation to this fiction, is, that the absence of a person from his own home, or his neglect of his own affairs, is the ! Odyssey V.

VOL XIX.

cause of great disorders: so the principal point of the action, and the most essential one, is the absence of the hero. This fills almost all the poem: for not only this real absence lasted several years, but even when the hero returned, he does not discover himself; and this prudent disguise, from whence he reaped so much advantage, has the same effect upon the authors of the disorders, and all others who knew him not, as his real absence had before, so that he is absent as to them, till the very moment of their punishment.

After the poet had thus composed his fable, and joined the fiction to the truth, he then makes choice of Ulysses, the king of the isle of Ithaca, to maintain the character of his chief personage, and bestowed the rest upon Telemachus, Penelope, Antinous, and others, whom he calls by what names he pleases.

I shall not here insist upon the many excellent advices, which are so many parts and natural consequences of the fundamental truth; and which the poet very dexterously lays down in those fictions which are the episodes and members of the entire action. Such for instance are these advices: not to intrude one's self into the mysteries of government, which the prince keeps secret; this is represented to us by the winds shut up in a bullhide, which the miserable companions of Ulysses would needs be so foolish as to pry into: not to suffer one's self to be led away by the seeming charms of an idle and inactive life, to which the Syrens' song invited2: not to suffer one's self to be sensualised by pleasures, like those who were changed into brutes, by Circe: and a great many other points of morality necessary for all sorts of people.

This poem is more useful to the people than the Iliad, where the subjects suffer rather by the ill conduct of their princes, than through their own miscarriages. But in the Odyssey, it is not the fault of Ulysses that is the ruin of his subjects. This wise prince leaves untried no method to make them partakers of the benefit of his return. Thus the poet in the Iliad says, "he sings the anger of Achilles, which had caused the death of so many Grecians ;" and, on the contrary, in the Odyssey he tells his readers, "that the subjects perished through their own fault."

SECT. IV.

OF THE UNITY OF THE FABLE.

ARISTOTLE bestows great encomiums upon Homer for the simplicity of his design, because he has included in one single part all that happened at the siege of Troy. And to this he opposes the ignorance of some poets, who imagined that the unity of the fable or action was sufficiently preserved by the unity of the hero; and who composed their Theseids, Heraclids, and the like, wherein they only heaped up in one poem every thing that happened to one personage.

He finds fault with those poets who were for reducing the unity of the fable into the unity of the hero, because one man may have performed several adventures, which it is impossible to reduce

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