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.
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).
Readers who would like to see the entire Butler
translation should use the following link: Butler Iliad.
[List of
Printed English Translations of Homer’s Iliad
and Odyssey]