Homer
The Iliad
Translated by John Stuart Blackie
Edinburgh 1866
[Sample from the Opening of the
Poem]
Book I.
The baneful wrath, O goddess,
sing, of Peleus’ son, the source
Of sorrows dire, and countless woes to all the Grecian
force;
That wrath which many a stout heroic soul from joyful
day
To gloomy Hades hurled, and left their mangled limbs a
prey
To dogs and vultures: thus the will of mightiest Jove
was done;
Since first contention keen arose, and sundering
strife begun
Between Atrides, king of men, and Peleus’ godlike son.
Which of the gods between them twain the rancorous
feud inspired?
Latona’s son; for he against the king, with anger
fired,
Shot through the camp a sore disease; the people
drooped and died;
For that Atrides to his priest the righteous suit
denied,
When to the swift sea-ploughing ships came Chryses
with a prayer,
And for his daughter’s freedom brought the precious
ransom rare.
He on a gold sacred staff, with outstretched arm,
displayed
The wreath of the far-darting god, and thus to all he
prayed,
But chiefly to the kingly pair, whose word the host
obeyed:
Ye sons of Atreus, and ye Greeks with burnished
greaves, give ear:
You may the gods with conquest crown, and grant with
mastering spear
To sack old Troy, and sail with joy to friends and
country dear;
But me—my daughter dear restore, and let rich ransom
follow,
Fearing the dread, far-darting god, the son of Jove,
Apollo.
Whereto the Achæan host replied with loud-consenting
cheer,
And bade him grant the old man’s prayer, and his
wreathèd staff revere;
But ill was Agamemnon pleased, and forth his anger
brake;
Away he sent the priest, and thus with fell reproof he
spake:
Old man, if near the hollow ships I find thee here
again,
Or lingering now with laggard foot if thou shalt dare
remain,
Thy hand shall show the sacred wreath, and bear the
staff in vain.
The main I’ll not restore; no, not till hoary age
shall come
To her at Argos in my house far from her father’s
home:
There shall she tend the loom, and share my royal bed;
but thou
Begone! fret me no more! thy speed shall be thy safety
now!
He spake; the old man feared; no word of sharp reply
gave he,
But silent went to the billowy beach of the vast and
voiceful sea.
There from the ships apart he stood, and poured the
pleading prayer
To the son of Jove whom Leto bore of the
lovely-flowing hair:
Hear me, O god of the silver bow, who rightly claim’st
for thine
Tenedos’ isle, and Chrysè’s walls, and Cilla’s towers
divine:
Smintheus, if ere the well-roofed pile to worship thee
I raised,
If with fat thighs of bulls and goats they sacred
altar blazed
From me, fulfil, O archer strong, the hope that now I
cherish,
And may the Greeks who worked my wrong by thy sharp
arrows perish!
He spake, and Phœbus heard the priest, who called upon
his name,
And from Olympus’ summit down with wrath-stirred heart
he came;
His lidded quiver and his bow he on his shoulder bare,
And fearfully his rattling shafts sounded, as through
the air
With rapid swoop he travelled; and he came like
glooming night.|
Then, planted close behind the fleet, he shot the
arrowy might,
And terribly through the tainted air far twanged his
silver bow.
First fell the mules, eftsoons the nimble dogs lie
gasping low
And then the men with the bitter barb of his immortal
ire
He smote; and baleful blazed around the frequent
funeral pyre.
REVIEW COMMENT
Blackie translation is notable for his use of the fourteen syllable line (Chapman’s basic line, as well) combined with fairly strong rhymes throughout. The result, however, is not particularly remarkable. The lines, though for the most part clear and accurate enough, are heavy and the rhymes predictable—there’s nothing of Chapman’s Elizabethan rhetorical flair to inject some imaginative energy into the verse. And the occasional lapse into Medieval idiom doesn’t really help matters (“eftsoons,” “twain,” and so on).
Readers who would like a longer preview of Blackie’s
translation (which has been recently reissued by Elibron Classics) should
consult the following link: Blackie
Iliad.