The Story of Achilles
A Translation of Homer’s “Iliad” into Plain English
W. H. D. Rouse
London 1938

[Sample from the Opening of the Poem]

THE STORY OF ACHILLÊS

Book I

How Achillês and Agamemnon quarrelled over Briseïs, and how Thetis persuaded Zeus to support her son.

AN angry man—there is my story: the bitter rancour of Achillês, prince of the house of Peleus, which brought a thousand troubles upon the Achaian host. Many a strong soul it sent down to Hadês, and left the heroes themselves a prey to dogs and carrion birds, while the will of God moved on to fulfilment.

It began first of all with a quarrel between my Lord King Agamemnon of Atreus’ line and the Prince Achillês.

What god, then, made the match between them? Apollo, son of Leto and Zeus. The King had offended him: so he sent a dire pestilence on the camp and the people perished. Agamemnon had affronted his priest Chrysês, when the priest came to the Achaian fleet, bringing a rich treasure to ransom his daughter. He held in his hand a golden staff, twined about with the sacred wreaths of Apollo Farshooter, and made his petition to the Achaian people in general but chiefly to the two royal princes of Atreus’ line:

“My lords, and you their subjects, for you I pray that the gods who dwell in Olympos may grant you to sack Priam’s city, and to have a happy return home! but my dear daughter—set her free, I beseech you, and accept the ransom, and respect Apollo Farshooter the son of Zeus!”

Then all the people said good words, and bade them respect the priest and accept the ransom; but my lord King Agamemnon was not well pleased. He told the priest to be off, and in harsh words too:

“Don’t let me find you here any more, you; don’t stay now and don’t come back again, or else your staff and sacred wreaths may not protect you. The woman I will not release! She shall live to old age in our house, far away in Argos, working the loom and lying in my bed. Begone now! don’t provoke me, or it will be the worse for you.”

The old man was afraid, and did as he was told. Silent he passed along the shore of the murmuring sea; and when he came home, he prayed earnestly to Apollo:

“Hear me, Silverbow! Thou who dost bestride Chrysê and holy Cilla, thou who art the mighty lord of Tenedos, O Smintheus! If I have ever built a temple to thy pleasure, if I have ever burnt for thee fat slices of bulls or of goats, bestow on me this boon: may the Danaäns pay for my tears under thy shafts!”

Phoibos Apollo heard his prayer. Down from Olympos he strode, angry at heart, carrying bow and quiver: the arrows rattled upon his shoulders as the angry god moved on, looking black as night. He sank upon his heel not far from the ships, and let fly a shaft; terrible was the twang of the silver bow. First he attacked the mules and dogs, then he shot his keen arrows at the men, and each hit the mark: pyres of the dead began to burn up everywhere and never ceased.


REVIEW COMMENT

This book . . . is a translation into plain English of the plain story of Homer, omitting the embellishments that were meant only to please the ear: stock epithets and recurring phrases where the meaning is of no account. . . . For Homer is full of merriment, full of open fun and delicate comedy, even farce. . . . And the divine family! What a delightful natural party—human beings raised a degree or two, but all the funnier for that. (Preface)

Rouse attacks the poem with considerable zest, casting aside any concern with scrupulous fidelity to Homer’s words (or, some might add, his vision of human life), and keeps the story moving quickly (the speed and directness of the Rouse’s treatment of the story has led at least one eminent reviewer, Gilbert Highet, to recommend the translation as a good choice for those reading Homer for the first time). Rouse’s translation is a prime candidate for the “most colloquial English translation of the Iliad” award (especially if one welcomes interesting new words like “mob-gobbled,” “all finery and shinery,” “jabberwinding,” and “Rattle-chatterbox”).

While there’s a certain point to reminding readers (including scholars) that “plain” English is the language of most readers and that such language has a place in translations of Homer, alongside all the different poetical and often very quaint alternatives, there is (of course) a price to be paid, a certain lack of gravitas and what Matthew Arnold calls “nobility.”

Readers who would like a generous preview of Rouse’s translation (in Amazon) should use the following link: Rouse Iliad.

List of Published English Translations of Homer's Iliad and Odyssey