That a statesman should have succeeded in a task of this sort, where Pope and Cowper failed, is strange indeed. But let our readers judge for themselves: we give first a somewhat celebrated passage from Pope—the bivouac of the Trojans, at the end of the eighth book—premising that Pope prefixes to it four lines which have no equivalent in the Greek, and which are not only an interpolation but a positive injury to the sense:
"The troops exulting sat in order round,
And beaming fires illumined all the ground.
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,
O'er heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light,
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene;
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumbered gild the glowing pole,
O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain's head;
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.
So many flames before proud Ilion blaze,
And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays:
The long reflections of the distant fires
Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires;
A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild,
And shoot a shady lustre o'er the field,
Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend,
Whose umbered arms, by fits, thick flashes send,
Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn,
And ardent warriors wait the rising morn."
This is not a faultless passage, but no one can help admiring the felicitous imagery, the vivid word-painting, the wonderful harmony of the versification. Yet what reader of Homer will hesitate to prefer Lord Derby's simpler and almost strictly literal rendering?
"Full of proud hopes, upon the pass of war,
All night they camped; and frequent blazed their fires.
As when in heaven, around the glittering moon
The stars shine bright amid the breathless air;
And every crag, and every jutting peak
Stands boldly forth, and every forest glade;
Ev'n to the gates of heaven is opened wide
The boundless sky; shines each particular star
Distinct; joy fills the gazing shepherd's heart.
So bright, so thickly scattered o'er the plain,
Before the walls of Troy, between the ships
And Xanthus' stream, the Trojan watchfires blazed.
A thousand fires burnt brightly; and round each
Sat fifty warriors in the ruddy glare;
With store of provender before them laid,
Barley and rye, the tethered horses stood
Beside the cars, and waited for the morn."
Take now the description of Vulcan serving the gods at a banquet, from the conclusion of the first book. Cowper gives it as follows:
"So he; then Juno smiled, goddess white-armed,
And smiling still, from his unwonted hand
Received the goblet. He from right to left [Footnote 112]
Rich nectar from the beaker drawn, alert
Distributed to all the powers divine.
Heaven rang with laughter inextinguishable,
Peal after peal, such pleasure all conceived
At sight of Vulcan in his new employ.
So spent they in festivity the day,
And all were cheered; nor was Apollo's harp
Silent, nor did the muses spare to add
Responsive melody of vocal sweets.
But when the sun's bright orb had now declined,
Each to his mansion, wheresoever built
By the same matchless architect, withdrew.
Jove also, kindler of the fires of heaven,
His couch ascending as at other times
When gentle sleep approached him, slept serene,
With golden-sceptred Juno by his side."
[Footnote 112: Just the reverse,—from left to right,
Cowper's blunder is serious, because to proceed from right to left was looked upon by the Greeks as unlucky.]