Frantic with desperate rage, Achilles roar’d—
I beg ten thousand pardons, my dear Lord.
Another by Eighteen Bishops, quite cool.
Now’t came to pass the Lord Achilles saith,
Hecate and Furies, Tartarus and Death.
Another by Lord Howe.
Hawling his wind abaft Atrides’ wake,
The copper-bottom’d son of Peleus spake.
Another by Sir Joseph Mawbey.
Had great Achilles stood but half as quiet,
He had been by Xanthus drench’d as I by Wyatt.
[1] It is impossible for the reader to comprehend the full force of this expression, unless he recollect the wonderful effects it produced in the House of Commons from Mr. Dundas’s peculiar dialect, upon that memorable occasion, when that great diuretic orator, expatiating on Oriental tranquillity, assured the House, that “at that moment all India was peece—Bengal was at peece—Tippo sultan was at peece—The Mahrattas were at peece—Every creature in Indostan, he knew it for a fawct, was comfortably at peece!!!”
[2] However sympathetic in politics, it is evident that the two last of these translators are at variance in philosophy—the former relying on the hydraulic system—-the latter on the pneumatic.