The Iliad of Homer
with notes
W. G. T. Barter
London 1854
[Sample from the Opening of the Poem]
THE ILIAD
BOOK I.
I.
THE wrath of Peleus’ son Achilles sing,
O Goddess, wrath destructive, that did on
Th’ Achaeans woes innumerable bring,
And many mighty souls of heroes down
To Hades hurl untimely, themselves thrown
to gods a prey and all the birds obscene.
But so in sooth the will of Zeus was done,
Since parted first in strife those chieftains
twain,
Divine Achilles, and Atrides king of men.
II.
What god them set in strife
contending high?
’Twas Zeus’ and Leto’s son. Wroth with the king,
A plague through th’ host he stirr’d. The people
die.
For on priest Chryses did Atrides fling
Contempt. To th’ Achive ships he ransoming
His daughter came, and boundless ransom brought.
In’s hands did far-dart Phœbus’ wreath enring
The golden staff. He th’ Achives all besought,
But did th’ Atrides chief, the folk’s two rulers,
court:—
III.
“Ye Atreus’ sons, Achæans
buskin’d well
“That else be here! Vouchsafe it may to you
“The gods that in Olympian houses dwell,
“Take Priam’s town, and home then safe! But do
“My child release me, ransom take, and due
“Respect to Zeus’ son, far-dart Phœbus give.”
With shouts all Achives else assent thereto,
The priest to rev’rence, ransom bright receive,
But not t’ Atrides Agamemnon’s mind ’twas lieve,
IV.
But rough dismiss’ him,
adding speech severe:—
“By th’ ships, old man, that I not catch thee see!
“Or ling’ring now, or back returning here,
“Lest not the staff nor god’s wreath profit thee.
“Her loose not I till age upon her be
“In Argos’ palace our’s, far from her land,
“Tending the loom, my counch partaking she.
“But go, provoke me not: so safer wend,”
He said. The sire in fear obey’d the harsh command,
V.
And silent pac’d of mickle
sounding sea the shore.
Much as he went the sire apart did pray.
To King Apollo, fair tress’d Leto bore:—
“Hear, Silver-Bow, that Chrysa guardest aye,
“And sacred Cilla, Tenedos dost sway,
“Smintheus! If ever temple lovely one
“I’ve roof’d to thee, or fat thighs burnt have I
“Of bulls or goats, this wish of mine then crown,
“That with thy darts the Danai my tears atone.”
VI.
’Twas thus he
pray’d. Phœbus Apollo heard,
And down Olympus’ summits wroth at heart,
And should’ring bow and cover’d quiver skirr’d.
Rattled the shafts on’s shoulders at each start
As wroth he pac’d. He went like night. Apart
From ships then sat, an arrow shot, and high
Out-clang’d the silver bow to freeze the heart.
Mules first and swift dogs smote, and then let fly
Fell shaft on them. Thick burnt the pyres funereal
aye.
REVIEW COMMENT
If it hasn’t been done already,
some scholar should write a study of the deleterious influence of Spenser on the
tradition of translating Homer into English. Such a work might well begin by
taking a close look at Barter’s rendition of Homer. Barter pays direct homage to
Spenser in his choice of verse form and diction, and he offers an interesting
and sincere, if unconvincing, defence of the practice in his introduction
(“Another advantage of this form of verse is its compass of vocabulary, giving
one the whole range of the language, receiving the oldest gray-worn words side
by side with those of the newest mint with equal grace. An unspeakable advantage
this to a literal translation and in rhyme, by giving a choice of sound and of
syllables to a degree that is denied to the more fastidious and modernising
requirements of the couplet . . . . and never, I trust, will the poetic feeling
in this country sink so low as to deem a word absolutely inadmissible which has
the sanction of Spenser, or the ancient but regal stamp of the father of English
poets, the noble Chaucer himself”)—to which the best reply is probably Dr.
Johnson’s famous remark about Milton: “Of him, at last, may be said what Jonson
says of Spenser, that ‘he wrote no language,’ but has formed what Butler calls
‘a Babylonish Dialect,’ in itself harsh and barbarous, but made by exalted
genius and extensive learning the vehicle of so much instruction and so much
pleasure that, like other lovers, we find grace in its deformity.” Lacking the
“exalted genius” Johnson refers to, Barter’s style, for all its energy and
occasional felicitous phrase, presents too many deformities. And then, of
course, there’s the stanza form . . . .
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