THE ILIAD OF HOMER
TRANSLATED INTO BLANK VERSE
BY
ICHABOD CHARLES WRIGHT

[Sample from the Opening of the Poem]

BOOK I.

THE wrath of Peleus’ son, O goddess, sing—
Achilles’ baneful wrath—which to the Greeks
Brought woes unnumbered, and to Hades’ depths
Hurrying the souls of many valiant chiefs,
Their bodies left a prey to dgs and birds:—
Yet was Jove’s will advancing to its end—
From the first hour when, after fierce debate,
Discord arose between the godlike prince
Achilles, and Atrides, king of men.

   Which of the gods provoked the deadly feud?
Jove and Latona’s son. He, with the king
Indignant, sent a plague that scattered death
Throughout the host, in vengeance for his priest,
The aged Chryses, whom Atrides scorned,
When to redeem his child he sought the ships
With boundless ransom, bearing in his hands
The sacred chaplet of the archer god,
Far-darting Phoebus, twined on golden staff.
Much he entreated all the Greeks, but most
The two Atridae, leaders of the war.
“Ye sons of Atreus,” he began, “and ye
Warriors in greaves accountred, may the gods
Who in the mansions of Olympus dwell,
Grant you to overthrow king Priam’s city,
And safely reach your homes, as ye restore
My much-loved daughter, and accept these gifts,
Revering Phoebus, Jove’s far-darting son.”

   Then with a shout the Greeks all gave consent
The priest to honour, and accept the gifts.
But pleased not Agamemnon such resolve:
Stern he dismissed the suppliant with harsh speech:
“Let me not find thee near the ships, old man,
Or lingering now, or venturing here again;
Lest nought the staff and chaplet of thy god
Henceforth avail thee. I release her not,
Until old age o’ertake her in my halls
In Argos, far from her dear native land,
Plying the loom, and busied at my couch.
Begone; nor vex me, if thy life be dear.”

   This heard, the old man trembled and obeyed.
Silent he took his way along the shore
Lashed by the ceaseless loud-resounding waves:
Withdrawing then, he to Apollo prayed,
Son of Latona of the radiant hair.
“God of the silver bow, who dost protect
Chrysa, and holy Cilla, and with might
Rulest in Tenedos, O hear me now,
Smintheus; if e’er I decked thy beauteous fane
Or burnt to thee fat thighs of bulls and goats,
Accomplish this my prayer.—Let they dread shafts
Avenge my tears upon the Argive host.”

REVIEW COMMENT

Wright, like many translators before and after him, explains his purpose by setting up a straw-person argument: those who have translated the Iliad up to now, no matter how fine their English verses, have not been fair to Homer: “Fully concerring in the opinion recently given by Mr. Gladstone in his ‘Homeric Studies,’ that Homer is not honoured as he deserves to be in this country, and that every exertion ought to be made to place him ‘on his lawful throne’ the writer offers the labour of many years as his mite in furtherance of this object . . .” So he has translated the Iliad (one assumes) for England. This is a silly argument meant (I suppose) to adorn the real reason, which is much the same as the reason some people want to climb Mount Everest: because it’s there.

 Wright’s translation appears reasonably accurate, but his verse is, for the most part, uninspired, unnecessarily Latinate, and dull; as one contemptorary observed (in the Edinburgh Review, Vol. 87, No. 121): “words and sentences which have nothing but metre to distinguish them from flat and insipid prose . . . in Mr. Wright’s Iliad constantly break the flow of passages in which everything depends on perfect smoothness as well as sustained vigour.”

To access Volume I of Wright's translation, use the following link: Wright Iliad

[List of Published English Translations of Homer]