Homer
The Iliad
translated by Anthony Verity
(Oxford University Press, 2010)
SING,
goddess, the anger* of Achilles, Peleus’ son,
the
accursed anger which brought the Achaeans countless
agonies
and hurled many mighty shades of heroes into Hades,*
causing
them to become the prey of dogs and
all
kinds of birds; and the plan of Zeus was fulfilled.
Sing
from the time the two men were first divided in strife—
Atreus’
son,* lord of men, and glorious Achilles.
Which
of the gods was it who set them to quarrel and fight?
The
son of Zeus and Leto,* for he was bitter against the king, and
roused
an evil plague through the camp, and the people went on
dying, 10
because the son of Atreus had dishonoured his priest Chryses.
This
man had come to the swift ships the Achaeans to
redeem
his daughter, bringing a boundless ransom and holding
in
his hands the woollen bands of Apollo who shoots from afar,*
fixed
to a golden staff. He entreated all the Achaeans, but 15
especially
the two sons of Atreus, marshals of the people:
‘You
sons of Atreus, and you other well-greaved Achaeans,
may
the gods who have their homes on Olympus grant
that
you sack the city of Priam and return safely home.
Only
release my dear child, and accept his ransom, and 20
show
reverence to Zeus’ son Apollo who shoots from afar.’
Then
all the rest of the Achaeans shouted their approval, that
they
should be in awe of the priest and accept the splendid ransom,
but
this found no favour in the heart of Atreus’ son Agamemnon;
he
sent Chryses roughly away, and added a harsh command: 25
‘Let
me not discover you, old man, beside our hollow ships,
either
dawdling here now or returning again later,
in
case your staff and the god’s bands prove no help to you.
I
will not let the girl go; before I do, old age will find her
in
my house in Argos, far from her fatherland, going 30
back
and forth at the loom and serving me in my bed.
Go,
do not provoke me; this way you will return unharmed.’
REVIEW COMMENT
Anthony Verity organizes
the text of his translation of the Iliad
on as close an approximation to the Greek lineation as possible and strives “to
use a straightforward English register and to adhere closely to the Greek,
allowing Homer to speak for himself.” He further states that his text “does not
claim to be poetry.” It’s just as well he makes that clear, because, although
the text is divided up so that it looks like poetry, most of the time it reads
like fairly standard prose arbitrarily (and often awkwardly) carved up to match
the Greek line numbers, without any regard for a more or less regular rhythm or
line length.
In his introduction, Verity talks a good deal about Homer as a
poet and offers us the following advice: ““Rather than looking for the poet of the Iliad, then, it seems more fruitful to look for the poet in the Iliad.” That being his recommendation, it does seem curious that
his text is constantly reminding us that, while Homer’s original text is a
poem, this Iliad is an extremely
prosaic offering—not much sense of a poet lurking in these lines. His
scrupulous fidelity to Homer is not, by itself, sufficient to deliver “the poem’s
directness and power,” at least not consistently, especially in the speeches. I
really don’t know why Verity didn’t simply offer us a prose translation (with
appropriate line references to the Greek text, if necessary). After all, producing
a text that looks like a poem but simply ignores some of the basic requirements
of a poetic style runs the risk of constantly disappointing the reader’s legitimate
expectations.
For some lengthier reviews
of Verity’s Iliad, consult the
following: Economist,
Open Letters
Monthly.
For a more extensive preview
of Book One of Verity’s translation, please consult the following link: Verity Iliad.