Homer
The Iliad
translated by Edward Stanley, Earl of Derby
London 1864

[Sample from the Opening of the Poem]

BOOK I.

Of Peleus’ son, Achilles, sing, O Muse,

The vengeance, deep and deadly; whence to Greece

Unnumbered ills arose; which many a soul

Of mighty warriors to the viewless shades

Untimely sent; they on the battle plain

Unburied lay, a prey to rav’ning dogs,

And carrion birds; but so had Jove decreed,

From that sad day when first in wordy war,

The mighty Agamemnon, King of men,

Confronted stood by Peleus’ godlike son.

Say then, what God the fatal strife provok’d?

Jove’s and Latona’s son; he, filled with wrath

Against the King, with deadly pestilence

The camp afflicted,—and the people died,—-

For Chryses’ sake, his priest, whom Atreus’ son

With scorn dismiss’d, when to the Grecian ships

He came, his captive daughter to redeem,

With costly ransom charg’d; and in his hand

The sacred fillet of his God he bore,

And golden staff; to all he sued, but chief

To Atreus’ sons, twin captains of the host:

“Ye sons of Atreus, and ye well-greav’d Greeks,

May the great Gods, who on Olympus dwell,

Grant you yon hostile city to destroy,

And home return in safety; but my child

Restore, I pray; her proffer’d ransom take,

And in his priest, the Lord of Light revere.”

Then through the ranks assenting murmurs ran,

The priest to rev’rence, and the ransom take:

Not so Atrides; he, with haughty mien,

And bitter speech, the trembling sire address’d:

“Old man, I warn thee, that beside our ships

I find thee not, or ling’ring now, or back

Returning; lest thou prove of small avail

Thy golden staff, and fillet of thy God.

Her I release not, till her youth be fled;

Within my walls, in Argos, far from home,

Her lot is cast, domestic cares to ply,

And share a master’s bed. For thee, begone!

Incense me not, lest ill betide thee now.”

He said: the old man trembled, and obeyed;

Beside the many-dashing Ocean’s shore

Silent he pass’d; and all apart, he pray’d

To great Apollo, fair Latona’s son:

“Hear me, God of the silver bow! whose care

Chrysa surrounds, and Cilia’s lovely vale;

Whose sov’reign sway o’er Tenedos extends;

O Smintheus, hear! if e’er my offered gifts

Found favour in thy sight; if e’er to thee

I burn’d the fat of bulls and choicest goats,

Grant me this boon—upon the Grecian host

Let thine unerring darts avenge my tears.”

Thus as he pray’d, his pray’r Apollo heard:

Along Olympus’ heights he pass’d, his heart

Burning with wrath; behind his shoulders hung

His bow, and ample quiver; at his back

Rattled the fateful arrows as he mov’d;

Like the night-cloud he pass’d, and from afar

He bent against the ships, and sped the bolt;

And fierce and deadly twang’d the silver bow.

First on the mules and dogs, on man the last,

Was pour’d the arrowy storm; and through the camp,

Constant and num’rous, blaz’d the fun’ral fires.

REVIEW COMMENT

In his Preface Derby stresses that the proper metre for English versions of Homer is blank verse:

Numerous as have been the translators of the Iliad, or parts of it, the metres which have been selected have been almost as various: the ordinary couplet in rhyme, the Spenserian stanza, the Trochaic or Ballad metre, all have ad their partisans, even to that “pestilent heresy” of the so-called English hexameter; a metre wholly repugnant to the genius of our language; which can only be pressed into the service by a violation of every rule of prosody . . . But in the progress of this work I have been more and more confirmed in the opinion which I expressed at its commencement, that (whatever may be the extent of my own individual failure) “if justice is ever to be done to the easy flow and majestic simplicity of the grand old Poet, it can only be in the Heroic blank verse.” . . . blank verse appears to me the only metre capable of adapting itself to all the gradations, if I may use the term, of the Homeric style; from the finished poetry of the numerous similes, in which every touch is nature, and nothing is overcoloured or exaggerated, down to the simple, almost homely, style of some portions of the narrative. Least of all can any other metre do full justice to the spirit and freedom of the various speeches, in which the old warriors give utterance, without disguise or restraint, to all their strong and genuine emotions.”

Derby’s translation was generally well received by his contemporaries and has been reprinted many times. Of all the Victorian blank verse translations, it remains the most readable today and is still worth experiencing if one wants traditional blank verse with an ancient flavour: it is accurate, clear, and fast (too fast for the taste of those who demand a weightier hexameter line).  His style has not been infected by the often deleterious influence of Spenser or Milton which afflicted so many of his fellow Victorian translators. Derby, who was Prime Minister of Great Britain three times and leader of the Conservative Party for twenty-two years, easily qualifies as the most politically eminent English translator of Homer, even if his political achievements are often disparaged.

For samples of contemporary reviews of Derby’s Iliad, use the following links: North American Review (1865); The British Quarterly Review (1865); Edinburgh Review (1865); Saturday Review (1868).

To access the complete text of Derby’s translation, please use the following link: Derby’s Iliad (Gutenberg).

[List of Published English Translations of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey]