The Iliad
By Homer
Translated by Samuel Butler
London 1888
[Sample from the Opening of the Poem]
Book One
Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus,
that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send
hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and
vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the
son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another.
And which of the gods was it that set them on to
quarrel? It was the son of Jove and Leto; for he was angry with the king and
sent a pestilence upon the host to plague the people, because the son of Atreus
had dishonoured Chryses his priest. Now Chryses had come to the ships of the
Achaeans to free his daughter, and had brought with him a great ransom: moreover
he bore in his hand the sceptre of Apollo wreathed with a suppliant’s wreath and
he besought the Achaeans, but most of all the two sons of Atreus, who were their
chiefs.
“Sons of Atreus,” he cried, “and all other Achaeans,
may the gods who dwell in Olympus grant you to sack the city of Priam, and to
reach your homes in safety; but free my daughter, and accept a ransom for
her, in reverence to Apollo, son of Jove.”
On this the rest of the Achaeans with one voice were
for respecting the priest and taking the ransom that he offered; but not so
Agamemnon, who spoke fiercely to him and sent him roughly away. “Old man,” said
he,” let me not find you tarrying about our ships, nor yet coming
hereafter. Your sceptre of the god and your wreath shall profit you nothing. I
will not free her. She shall grow old in my house at Argos far from her
own home, busying herself with her loom and visiting my couch; so go, and do not
provoke me or it shall be the worse for you.”
The old man feared him and obeyed. Not a word he
spoke, but went by the shore of the sounding sea and prayed apart to King Apollo
whom lovely Leto had borne. “Hear me,” he cried, “O god of the silver bow, that
protectest Chryse and holy Cilla and rulest Tenedos with thy might, hear me oh
thou of Sminthe. If I have ever decked your temple with garlands, or burnedyour
thigh-bones in fat of bulls or goats, grant my prayer, and let your arrows
avenge these my tears upon the Danaans.”
Thus did he pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. He came
down furious from the summits of Olympus, with his bow and his quiver upon his
shoulder, and the arrows rattled on his back with the rage that trembled within
him. He sat himself down away from the ships with a face as dark as night,
and his silver bow rang death as he shot his arrow in the midst of them.
First he smote their mules and their hounds, but presently he aimed his
shafts at the people themselves, and all day long the pyres of the dead
were burning.
REVIEW COMMENT
Butler’s translation is among the best known and most
popular prose translations of the Iliad—and deservedly so. It is
accurate, unpretentious, and fluent. It is also very accessible on the
internet. Butler was committed to rendering the Iliad in contemporary
English, but there’s still a strong sense of artificial antiquarianism in some
of the syntax and diction, a sense of Medieval chivalry (in all fairness to
Butler, many people do like that). Dover Thrift Books used Butler’s translation
for their edition of the Iliad.
Naturally enough, there are eminent critics who have
little use for Butler’s style: “Samuel Butler, a rebel against Victorian
primness, made a prose version that he claimed was plain English but that ended
up with the worst of both alternatives. Not only is his prose still mottled with
fancy archaisms and inversions, his tone can range from indecorous to downright
vulgar” (Bernard Knox, qu. Young 132).
For a contemporary review
(1899) of Butler’s Iliad, use the following link:
Butler Iliad Review.
Readers who would like to see the entire Butler
translation should use the following link: Butler
Iliad.