And volumed wave on wave comes shoreward rolled,
And the white flying foam is scattered high
Before the loud blast of far-wandering wind.”
Let me now give one instance of Homer’s feeling for the aspect of the nightly heavens. It shall be taken from the place of the Iliad where the Trojans, after a day of successful battle, having driven back the Greeks, rest for the night. And here I shall quote, not, as in the above passage, from Lord Derby’s translation, but from a rendering of the passage by the Poet-Laureate. It is the only passage of Homer in which we have the Laureate’s handiwork:—
“So Hector said, and sea-like roared his host,
Then loosed their sweating horses from the yoke,
And each beside his chariot bound his own,
And oxen from the city, and goodly sheep
In haste they drove, and honey-hearted wine
And bread from out their houses brought, and heaped