for an uninterrupted duration is much more necessary in an action which one sees and is present at, than in one which we only read or hear repeated. Besides, tragedy is fuller of passion, and consequently of such a violence as cannot admit of so long a duration.

The Iliad containing an action of anger and violence, the poet allows it but a short time, about forty days. The design of the Odyssey required another conduct; the character of the hero is prudence and long-suffering; therefore the time of its duration is much longer, above eight years.

THE PASSIONS of the epic poem.

THE passions of tragedy are different from those of the epic poem. In the former, terrour and pity have the chief place; the passion that seems most peruliar to epic poetry, is admiration.

Besides this admiration, which in general distinguishes the epic poem from the dramatic; each epic poem has likewise some peculiar passion, which distinguishes it in particular from other epic poems, and constitutes a kind of singular and individual difference between these poems of the same species. These singular passions correspond

to the character of the hero. Anger and terrour

reign throughout the Iliad, because Achilles is angry, and the most terrible of all men. The Eneid has all soft and tender passions, because that is the character of Æneas. The prudence, wisdom, and constancy of Ulysses do not allow him either of these extremes; therefore the poet does not permit one of them to be predominant in the Odyssey. He confines himself to admiration enly, which he carries to an higher pitch than in the Iliad and it is upon this account that he introduces a great many more machines, in the Odyssey, into the body of the action, than are to be seen in the actions of the other two poems.

THE MANNERS.

THE manners of the epic poem ought to be poetically good, but it is not necessary they be always morally so. They are poetically good, when one may discover the virtue or vice, the good or ill inclinations of every one who speaks or acts: they are poetically bad, when persons are made to speak or act out of character, or inconsistently, or unequally. The manners of Æneas and of Mezentius are equally good, considered poetically, because they equally demonstrate the piety of the one, and the impiety of the other.

CHARACTER OF THE HERO.

It is requisite to make the same distinction between a hero in morality, and a hero in poetry, as between moral and poetical goodness. Achilles had as much right to the latter, as Æneas. Aristotle says, that the hero of a poem should be neither good nor bad; neither advanced above the rest of mankind by his virtues, or sunk beneath them by his vices; that he may be the proper and fuller example to others, both what to imitate and what to decline.

The other qualifications of the manners are, that they be suitable to the causes which either

raise or discover them in the persons; that they have an exact resemblance to what history, or fable, have delivered of those persons, to whom they are ascribed; and that there be an equality in them, so that no man is made to act, or speak, out of his character.

UNITY OF THE CHARACTER,

BUT this equality is not sufficient for the unity of the character: it is further necessary, that the same spirit appear in all sorts of encounters. Thus Eneas acting with great piety and mildness in the first part of the Eneid, which requires no other character; and afterwards appearing illustrious in heroic valour, in the wars of the second part; but there, without any appearance either of a hard or a soft disposition, would doubtless, be far from offending against the equality of the manners: but yet there would be no simplicity or unity in the their particular place upon different occasions, character. So that, besides the qualities that claim there must be one appearing throughout, which commands over all the rest; and without this, we may affirm, it is no character.

Achilles, as pious as Æneas, and as prudent as One may indeed make a hero as valiant as Ulysses. But it is a mere chiniera, to imagine a hero that has the valour of Achilles, the piety and the same time. This vision might happen to of Æneas, and the prudence of Ulysses, at one an author, who would suit the character of a hero to whatever each part of the action might naturally require, without regarding the essence of the fable, or the unity of the character in the same person upon all sorts of occasions: this hero would be the mildest, best-natured prince in the world, and also the most choleric, hard-hearted, and im

placable creature imaginable; he would be extremely tender like Æneas, extremely violent like Achilles, and yet have the indifference of Ulysses, that is incapable of the two extremes. Would it not be in vain for the poet to call this person by the same name throughout?

Let us reflect on the effects it would produce in several poems, whose authors were of opinion,

that the chief character of a hero is that of an accomplished man. They would be all alike; all valiant in battle, prudent in council, pious in the acts of religion, courteous, civil, magnificent; and, lastly, endued with all the prodigious virtues any poet could invent. All this would be independent from the action and the subject of the poem; and upon seeing each hero separated from the rest of the work we should not easily guess, to what action, and to what poem, the hero belonged. that we should see, that none of those would have a character; since the character is that which makes a person discernable, and which distingnishes him from all others.

So

This commanding quality in Achilles is his anger; in Ulysses, the art of dissimulation; in Eneas, meekness. Each of these may be styled, by way of eminence, the character in these heroes.

But these characters cannot be alone. It is absolutely necessary that some other should give them a lustre, and embellish them as far as they are capable; either by hiding the defects that are in each, by some noble and shining qualities; as

the poet has done the anger of Achilles, by shading it with extraordinary valour: or by making them entirely of the nature of a true and solid virtue, as is to be observed in the two others. The dissimulation of Ulysses is a part of his prudence, and the meekness of Eneas is wholly employed in submitting his will to the gods. For the making up of this union, our poets have joined together such qualities as are by nature the most compatible; valour with anger, meekness with piety, and prudence with dissimulation. This last union was necessary for the goodness of Ulysses; for, without that, his dissimulation might have degenerated into wickedness and double-dealing.

SECT. VII.

OF THE MACHINERY.

We now come to the machines of the epic poem. The chief passion which it aims to excite being admiration, nothing is so conducive to that as the marvellous; and the importance and dignity of the action is by nothing so greatly elevated as by the care and interposition of Heaven.

These machines are of three sorts. Some are theological, and were invented to explain the nature of the gods. Others are physical, and represent the things of nature. The last are moral, and are images of virtues and vices.

Homer and the ancients have given to their deities the manners, passions, and vices of men. The poems are wholly allegorical; and in this view it is easier to defend Homer than to blame him. We cannot accuse him for making mention of many gods, for his bestowing passions upon them, or even introducing them fighting against men. The Scripture uses the like figures and expressions.

་

If it be allowable to speak thus of the gods in theology, much more in the fictions of natural philosophy; where, if a poet describes the deities, he must give them such manners, speeches, and actions, as are conformable to the nature of the things they represent under those divinities. The case is the same in the morals of the deities: Minerva is wise, because she represents prudence ; Venus is both good or bad, because the passion of Jove is capable of these contrary qualities,

Since among the gods of a poem some are good, some had, and some indifferently either; and since of our passions we make so many allegorical deities; we may attribute to the gods all that is done in the poem, whether good or evil. But these deities do not act constantly in one and the

same manner,

Sometimes they act invisibly, and by mere inspiration, which has nothing in it extraordinary or miraculous; being no more than what we say every day," that some god has assisted us, or some demon has instigated us."

At other times they appear visibly, and manifest themselves to men, in a manner altogether miraculous and preternatural.

The third way has something of both the others; It is in truth a miracle, but is not commonly so acounted this includes dreams, oracles, &c.

All these ways must be probable; for however necessary the marvellous is to the epic action, as nothing is so conducive to admiration; yet we can, on the other hand, admire nothing, that we think impossible. Though the probability of these machines be of a very large extent, (since it is founded upon divine power) it is not without limitations. There are numerous instances of allowable and probable machines in the epic poem, where the gods are no less actors than the men. But the less credible sort, such as metamorphoses, &c. are far

more rare.

This suggests a reflection on the method of rendering those machines probable, which in their own nature are hardly so. Those, which require only divine probability, should be so disengaged from the action, that one might subtract them from it, without destroying the action. But those, which are essential and necessary, should be grounded upon human probability, and not on the sole power of God. Thus the episodes of Circe, the Syrens, Polyphemus, &c. are necessary to the action of the Odyssey, and yet not humanly probable: yet Homer has artificially reduced them to human probability, by the simplicity and ignorance of the Phæacians, before whom he causes those recitals to be made.

The next question is, where, and on what occasions, machines may be used? It is certain Homer and Virgil make use of them every where, and scarce suffer any action to be performed without them. Petronius makes this a precept: Per ambages, deorumque ministeria, &c. The gods are mentioned in the very proposition of their works, the invocation is addrest to them, and the whole narration is full of them, The gods are the causes of the action, they form the intrigue, and bring about the solution. The precept of Aristotle and Horace, that the unravelling of the plot should not proceed from a miracle, or the appearance of a god, has place only in dramatic poetry, not in the epic. For it is plain, that both in the solution of the Iliad and Odyssey, the gods are concerned: in the former, the deities meet to appease the anger of Achilles: Iris and Mercury are sent to that purpose, and Minerva eminently assists Achilles in the decisive combat with Hector. In the Odyssey, the same goddess fights close by Ulysses against the suitors, and concludes that peace betwixt him and the Ithacensians, which completes the poem.

We may therefore determine, that a machine is not an invention to extricate the poet out of any difficulty which embarrasses him: but that the presence of a divinity, and some action surprising and extraordinary, are inserted into almost all the parts of the work, in order to render it more majestic and more admirable. But this mixture ought to be so made, that the machines might be retrenched, without taking any thing from the action: at the same time that it gives the readers a lesson of piety and virtue; and teaches them, that the most brave and the most wise can do nothing, and attain nothing great and glorious, without the assistance of Heaven. Thus the machinery crowns the whole work, and renders it at once marvellous, probable, and moral

THE ODYSSEY.

BOOK I.

ARGUMENT.

MINERVA'S DESCENT TO ITHACA.

THE poem opens within forty-eight days of the arrival of Ulysses in his dominions. He had now remained seven years in the island of Calypso, when the gods, assembled in council, proposed the method of his departure from thence, and his return to his native country. For this purpose it is concluded to send Mercury to Calypso, and Pallas immediately descends to Ithaca. She holds a conference with Telemachus, in the shape of Mentes, king of the Taphians; in which she advises him to take a journey in quest of his father Ulysses, to Pylos and Sparta, where Nestor and Menelaus yet reigned: then, after having visibly displayed her divinity, disappears. The suitors of Penelope make great entertainments, and riot in her palace till night. Phemius sings to them the return of the Grecians, till Penelope puts a stop to the song. Some words arise between the suitors and Telemachus, who summons the council to meet the day following.

THE man, for wisdom's various arts renown'd,
Long exercis'd in woes, oh Muse! resound.
Who, when his arms had wrought the destin'd fall
Of sacred Troy, and raz'd her heaven-built wall,
Wandering from clime to clime, observant stray'd,
Their manners noted, and their states survey'd.
On stormy seas unnumber'd toils he bore,
Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore:
Vain toils! their impious folly dar'd to prey
On herds devoted to the god of day;
The gods vindictive doom'd them never more
(Ah, men unbless'd!) to touch that natal shore,
Oh, snatch some portion of these acts from fate,
Celestial Muse! and to our world relate.

Now at their native realms the Greeks arriv'd;
All who the war of ten long years surviv'd,
And 'scap'd the perils of the gulphy main.
Ulysses, sole of all the victor train,
An exile from his dear paternal coast,
Deplor'd his absent queen, and empire lost.
Calypso in her caves constrain'd his stay,
With sweet, reluctant, amorous delay:
In vain for now the circling years disclose
The day predestin'd to reward his woes.
At length his Ithaca is given by fate,
Where yet new labours his arrival wait;
At length their rage the hostile powers restrain,
All but the ruthless monarch of the main.
But now the god, remote, a heavenly guest,
In Ethiopia grac'd the genial feast
(A race divided, whom with sloping rays
The rising and descending Sun surveys);
There on the world's extremest verge, rever'd
With hecatombs and prayer in pomp preferr'd,
Distant be lay: while in the bright abodes
Of high Olympus, Jove conven'd the gods:
Th' assembly thus the sire supreme addrest,
Agysthus' fate revolving in his breast,

Whom young Orestes to the dreary coast Of Pluto sent, a blood-polluted ghost.

"Perverse mankind! whose wills, created free, Charge all their woes on absolute decree; All to the dooming gods their guilt translate, And follies are miscall'd the crimes of fate. When to his lust Ægysthus gave the rein, Did fate, or we, th' adulterous act constrain? Did fate, or we, when great Atrides dy'd, Urge the bold traitor to the regicide? Hermes I sent, while yet his soul remain'd Sincere from royal blood, and faith profan'd; To warn the wretch, that young Orestes, grown To manly years, should re-assert the throne. Yet, impotent of mind, and uncontroll'd, He plung'd into the gulf which Heaven foretold." Here paus'd the god; and pensive thus replies Minerva, graceful with her azure eyes: "O thou! from whom the whole creation springs, The source of power on Earth deriv'd to kings! His death was equal to the direful deed;

So

may the man of blood be doom'd to bleed!
But grief and rage alternate wound my breast,
For brave Ulysses, still by fate opprest.
Amidst an isle, around whose rocky shore
The forests murmur, and the surges roar,
The blameless hero from his wish'd-for home
A goddess guards in her enchanted dome:
(Atlas her sire, to whose far-piercing eye
The wonders of the deep expanded lie;
Th' eternal columns which on Earth he rears
End in the starry vault, and prop the spheres.)
By his fair daughter is the chief confin'd,
Who soothes to dear delight his anxious mind :
Successless all her soft caresses proye,
To banish from his breast his country's love;
To see the smoke from his loy'd palace rise,
While the dear isle in distant prospect lies,
With what contentment would he close his eyes?
And will Omnipotence neglect to save
The suffering virtue of the wise and brave?
Must he, whose altars on the Phrygian shore
With frequent rites, and pure, avow'd thy power,
Be doom'd the worst of human ills to prove,
Unbless'd, abandon'd to the wrath of Jove?"
"Daughter! what words have pass'd thy lips
unweigh'd?"

(Reply'd the thunderer to the martial maid)
"Deem not unjustly by my doom opprest
Of human race the wisest and the best.
Neptune, by prayer repentant rarely won,
Afflicts the ohief, t' avenge his giant-son,
Whose visual orb Ulysses robb'd of light!
Great Polypheme, of more than mortal might!
Him young Thoösa bore (the bright increase
Of Phorcys, dreaded in the sounds and seas):
Whom Neptune ey'd with bloom of beauty blest,
And in his cave the yielding nymph comprest.
For this, the god constrains the Greek to roam,
A hopeless exile, from his native home,
From death alone exempt-but cease to mourn!
Let all combine t' achieve his wish'd return:
Neptune aton'd, his wrath shall now refrain,
Or thwart the synod of the gods in vain."

"Father and king ador'd!" Minerva cry'd, "Since all who in th' Olympian bower reside Now make the wandering Greek their public care Let Hermes to th' Atlantic isle1 repair;

! Ogygia.

Bid him, arriv'd in bright Calypso's court,
The sanction of th' assembled powers report:
That wise Ulysses to his native land
Must speed, obedient to their high command.
Meantime Telemachus, the blooming heir
Of sca-girt Ithaca, demands my care:
'Tis mine to form his green unpractis'd years,
In sage debates; surrounded with his peers,
To save the state; and timely to restrain
The bold intrusion of the suitor-train :
Who crowd his palace, and with lawless power
His herds and flocks in feastful rites devour.
To distant Sparta, and the spacious waste
Of sandy Pyle, the royal youth shall haste.
There, warm with filial love, the cause inquire
That from his realm retards his godlike sire:
Delivering early to the voice of fame
The promise of a great, immortal name."

She said: the sandals of celestial mould,
Fledg'd with ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold,
Surround her feet; with these sublime she sails
Th' aerial space, and mounts the winged gales:
O'er earth and ocean wide prepar'd to soar,
Her dreaded arin a beamy javelin bore,
Ponderous and vast; which, when her fury burns,
Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'er-

turns.

From high Olympus prone her flight she bends,
And in the realm of Ithaca descends.
Her lineaments divine, the grave disguise
Of Mentes' form conceal'd from human eyes
(Mentes, the monarch of the Taphian land):
A glittering spear wav'd awful in her hand.
There in the portal piac'd, the heaven-born maid
Enormous riot and misrule survey'd.
On hides of beeves, before the palace gate,
(Sad spoils of luxury!) the suitors sate.
With rival art, and ardour in their mien,
At chess they vie, to captivate the queen;
Divining of their loves. Attending nigh
A menial train the flowing bowl supply:
Others, apart, the spacious hall prepare,
And form the costly feast with busy care.
There young Telemachus, his bloomy face
Glowing celestial sweet, with godlike grace
Amid the circle shines: but hope and fear
(Painful vicissitude!) his bosom tear.
Now, imag'd in his mind, he sees restor'd,
In peace and joy, the people's rightful lord;
The proud oppressors fly the vengeful sword.
While his fond soul these fancied triumphs swell'd,
The stranger guest the royal youth beheld:
Griev'd that a visitant so long should wait
Unmark'd, unhonour'd, at a monarch's gate;
Instant he flew with hospitable haste,

And the new friend with courteous air embrac'd.
"Stranger! whoe'er thou art, securely rest,
Affianc'd in my faith, a friendly guest:
Approach the dome, the social banquet share,
And then the purpose of thy soul declare."

Thus, affable and mild, the prince precedes,
And to the dome th' unknown celestial leads.
The spear receiving from her hand, he plac'd
Against a column, fair with sculpture grac'd;
Where seemly rang'd in peaceful order stood
Ulysses' arms, now long disus'd to blood.
He led the goddess to the sovereign seat,
Her feet supported with a stool of state
(A purple carpet spread the pavement wide);
Then drew his seat, familiar to her side;

Indulge my rising grief, whilst these (my friend) With song and dance the pompous revel end. Light is the dance, and doubly sweet the lays, When for the dear delight another pays, His treasur'd stores these cormorants consume, Whose bones, defrauded of a regal tomb And common turf, lie naked on the plain, Or doom'd to welter in the whelming main. Should he return, that troop so blithe and bold, With purple robes inwrought, and stiff with gold, Precipitant in.fear would wing their flight, And curse their cumbrous pride's unweildy weight. But, ah, I dream!-th' appointed hour is fled! And hope, too long with vain delusion fed, Deaf to the rumour of fallacious fame, Gives to the roll of death his glorious name! With venial freedom let me now demand Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land: Sincere, from whence began thy course, recite, And to what ship I owe the friendly freight? Now first to me this visit dost thou deign, Or number'd in my father's social train? All who deserv'd his choice he made his own, And, curious much to know, he far was known."

My birth I boast" (the blue-ey'd virgin cries) "From great Anchialus, renown'd and wise: Mentes my name: I rule the Taphian race, Whose bounds the deep circumfluent waves embrace: A duteous people, and industrious isle, To naval arts inur'd, and stormy toil. Freighted with iron from my native land, I steer my voyage to the Brutian strand; To gain by commerce for the labour'd mass, A just proportion of refulgent brass. Far from your capital my ship resides At Reithrus, and secure at anchor rides ; Where waving groves on airy Neion grow, Supremely tall, and shade the deeps below. Thence to revisit your imperial dome, And old hereditary guest I come : Your father's friend. Laertes can relate Our faith unspotted, and its early date;

Who, prest with heart-corroding grief and years,
To the gay court a rural shade prefers,
Where, sole of all his train, a matron sage
Supports with homely food his drooping age,
With feeble steps from marshalling his vines
Returning sad, when toilsome day declines.
"With friendly speed, induc'd by erring fame,
To hail Ulysses' safe return, I came;
But still the frown of some celestial power
With envious joy retards the blissful hour.
Let not your soul be sunk in sad despair;
He lives, he breathes this heavenly vital air,
Among a savage race, whose shelfy bounds
With ceaseless roar the foaming deep surrounds.
The thoughts which roll within my ravish'd breast,
To me, no seer, th' inspiring gods suggest;
Nor skill'd, nor studious, with prophetic eye
To judge the winged omens of the sky.
Yet hear this certain speech, nor deem it vain ;
Though adamantine bonds the chief restrain,
The dire restraint his wisdom will defeat,
And soon restore him to his regal seat.
But, generous youth! sincere and free declare,
Are you, of manly growth, his royal heir?
For sure Ulysses in your look appears,

The same his features, if the same his years.
Such was that face, on which I dwelt with joy
Ere Greece assembled stemm'd the tides to Troy;
But, parting then for that detested shore,
Our eyes, unhappy! never greeted more."

"To prove a genuine birth" (the prince replies) "On female truth assenting faith relies; Thus manifest of right, I build my clain Sure-founded on a fair maternal fame, Ulysses son: but happier he, whom fate

Hath plac'd beneath the storms which toss the great!
Happier the son, whose hoary sire is blest
With humble affluence, and domestic rest!
Happier than I, to future empire born,

But doom'd a father's wretched fate to mourn!"
To whom, with aspect mild, the guest divine;
"Oh true descendant of a scepter'd line!
The gods a glorious fate from anguish free
To chaste Penelope's increase decree.
But say, yon joyful troop so gaily drest,
Is this a bridal or a friendly feast!

Or from their deed I rightlier may divine,
Unseemly flown with insolence and wine;
Unwelcome revellers, whose lawless joy
Pains the sage ear, and hurts the sober eye?"
Magnificence of old" (the prince replied)
"Beneath our roof with virtue could reside;
Enblam'd abundance crown'd the royal board,
What time this dome rever'd her prudent lord;
Who now (so Heaven decrees) is doom'd to mourn
Bitter constraint; erroneous and forlorn.
Better the chief, on Ilion's hostile plain,
Had fall'n surrounded with his warlike train;
Or safe return'd, the race of glory past,

[raise

New to his friends' embrace, had breath'd his last!
Then grateful Greece with streaming eyes would
Historic marbles, to record his praise;
His praise, eternal on the faithful stone,
Had with transmissive honour grac'd his son.
Now suatch'd by harpies to the dreary coast,
Sunk is the hero, and his glory lost:
Vanish'd at once! unheard-of, and unknown!
And I his heir in misery alone.
Nor for a dear, lost father only flow
The filial tears, but woe succeeds to woe:

To tempt the spouselesss queen with amorous wiles,

Resort the nobles from the neighbouring isles;
From Samos, circled with th' lönian main,
Dulichium, and Zacynthus' sylvan reign:
Ev'n with presumptuous hope her bed t' ascend,
The lords of Ithaca their right pretend.
She seems attentive to their pleaded vows,'
Her heart detesting what her ear allows.
They, vain expectants of the bridal hour,
My stores in riotous expense devour,
In feast and dance the mirthful months employ,
And meditate my doom, to crown their joy."

With tender pity touch'd, the goddess cried?
"Soon may kind Heaven a sure relief provide!
Soon may your sire discharge the vengeance duc,
And all your wrongs the proud oppressors rue L
Oh! in that portal should the chief appear,
Each hand tremendous with a brazen spear,
In radiant panoply his limbs incas'd

[vain.

(For so of old my father's court he grac'd,
When social mirth unbent his serious soul,
O'er the fall banquet, and the sprightly bowl):
He then from Epyrè, the fair domain
Of Ilus, sprung from Jason's royal strain,
Measur'd a length of seas, a toilsome length, in
For voyaging to learn the direful art
To taint with deadly drugs the barbed dart;
Observant of the gods, and sternly just,
Ilus refus'd t' impart the baneful trust:
With friendlier zeal my father's soul was fir'd,
The drugs he knew, and gave the boon desir'd.
Appear'd he now with such heroic port,
As then conspicuous at the Taphian court;
Soon should yon boasters cease their haughty strife,
Or each atone his guilty love with life.
But of his wish'd return the care resign;
Be future vengeance to the powers divine.
My sentence hear: with stern distaste avow'd,
To their own districts drive the suitor-crowd:
When next the morning warms the purple east,
Convoke the peerage, and the gods attest;
The sorrows of your inmost soul relate;
And form sure plans to save the sinking state.
Should second love a pleasing flame inspire,
And the chaste queen connubial rites require;
Dismiss'd with honour, let her hence repair
To great Icarius, whose paternal care
Will guide her passion, and reward the choice
With wealthy dower, and bridal gifts of price.
Then let this dictate of my love prevail :
Instant, to foreign realms prepare to sail,
To learn your father's fortunes: Fame may prove,
Or omen'd voice, (the messenger of Jove)
Propitious to the search. Direct your toil
Through the wide ocean first to sandy Pyle;
Of Nestor, hoary sage, bis doom demand :
Thence speed your voyage to the Spartan strand;
For young Atrides to th' Achaian coast
Arriv'd the last of all the victor host.

If yet Ulysses views the light; forbear,
Till the fleet hours restore the circling year.
But if his soul hath wing'd the destin'd flight,
Inhabitant of deep disastrous night:
Homeward with pious speed repass the main,
To the pale shade funereal rites ordain,
Plant the fair column o'er the vacant grave,
A hero's honours let the hero have.
With decent grief the royal dead deplor'd,
For the chaste queen select an equal lord.