"So shone forth in front of Troy, by the bed of Xanthus,
Between that and the ships the Trojans' numerous fires.
In the plain there were kindled a thousand fires: by each one
There sate fifty men, in the ruddy light of the fire :
By their chariots stood the steeds, and champ'd the white barley,
While their masters sate by the fire, and waited for Morning."
Mr. Arnold is here his own commentator. "I want to show you that it is possible, in a plain passage of this sort, to keep Homer's simplicity without being heavy and dull... I omit the epithet of Morning, 'fair-throned;' and whereas Homer says that the steeds 'waited for Morning,' I prefer to attribute this expectation of Morning to the master, and not to the horse." Such are the liberties taken with Homer by a Professor of Poetry, and recommended by him to other translators: "By the English translator, Homer's double epithets must be, in many places renounced altogether." (p. 90.) On the above lines Mr. Newman. remarks, "I sincerely thought this was meant for prose at length the two last lines opened my eyes. He does mean them for Hexameters !" ("Homeric Translation," p. 7.)
(As quoted by Mr. Arnold.)
"So many flames before proud Ilion blaze,
And brighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays:
The long reflections of the distant fires
Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires,
A thousand piles the dusky horrors gild,
And shoot a shady lustre o'er the field,
Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend,
Whose umbered arms, by fits, thick flashes send :
Loud neigh the coursers o'er their heaps of corn,
And ardent warriors wait the rising morn."
("School of the Heart."-Lesson vi.)
"As when the stars in heaven around the moon
Show brightly, and the under air is calm,
And headland tops, and beacon-towers and steeps
Are clothed with visible light, and from above
The glory of the boundless firmament
Bursts downward, and the heavenly host is seen,
The heart of him that watches by the fold
Swells in his breast for joy."
"As when around the clear bright moon, the stars Shine in full splendour, and the winds are hushed, The groves, the mountain-tops, the headland-heights Stand all apparent, not a vapour streaks
The boundless blue, but ether opened wide
All glitters, and the shepherd's heart is cheered
So numerous seemed those fires, between the stream
Of Xanthus blazing and the fleet of Greece,
In prospect all of Troy; a thousand fires,
Each watched by fifty warriors seated near.
The steeds beside the chariots stood, their corn
Chewing, and waited till the golden-throned
Aurora should restore the light of day."
"As when in heaven around the silver moon
Bright shine the stars, and every wind is hushedWhen pointed rock, high crag, and distant wood Stand out revealed, and, opening from beneath, The immeasurable ether bursts to view,
And all the stars are seen; and gladness fills
The shepherd's heart; so numerous were the fires
That shone in front of Ilium, 'twixt the stream
Of Xanthus and the ships. There on the plain
A thousand watch-fires blazed; and in the light
Of every burning pile sate fifty men;
While at their chariots' side, champing white grain,
The horses stood, awaiting fair-throned Morn."
(Cornhill Magazine, December, 1863.)
"As when in heaven the stars about the moon
Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid,
And every height comes out, and jutting peak
And valley, and the immeasurable heavens
Break open to their highest, and all the stars
Shine, and the hind rejoices in his heart:
So many a fire between the ships and stream
Of Xanthus blazed before the towers of Troy,
A thousand on the plain; and close by each
Sat fifty in the blaze of burning fire;
And champing golden grain their horses stood,
Hard by the chariots, waiting for the dawn."
The third specimen given by the Professor is the celebrated speech of Hector to Andromache (Book vi. 441):
"Woman, I too take thought for this; but then I bethink me What the Trojan men and Trojan women might murmur,
If like a coward I skulk'd behind, apart from the battle.
The first half of this version, viz. as far as "shepherd's heart," is the same as originally published in 1861.
Nor would my own heart let me; my heart, which has bid me be valiant
Always, and always fighting among the first of the Trojans,
Busy for Priam's fame and my own, in spite of the future.
For that day will come, my soul is assured of its coming,
It will come, when sacred Troy shall go to destruction,
Troy, and warlike Priam too, and the people of Priam.
And yet not that grief, which then will be, of the Trojans,
Moves me so much-not Hecuba's grief, nor Priam my father's,
Nor my brethren's, many and brave, who then will be lying
In the bloody dust, beneath the feet of their foemen-
As thy grief, when, in tears, some brazen-coated Achaian
Shall transport thee away, and the day of thy freedom be ended.
Then, perhaps, thou shalt work at the loom of another, in Argos,
Or bear pails to the well of Messeïs, or Hypereia,
Sorely against thy will, by strong Necessity's order.
And some man may say, as he looks and sees thy tears falling:
See, the wife of Hector, that great pre-eminent captain
Of the horsemen of Troy, in the day they fought for their city.
So some man will say; and then thy grief will redouble
At the want of a man like me, to save thee from bondage.
But let me be dead, and the earth be mounded above me,
Ere I hear thy cries, and thy captivity told of."
'Thy cares are all mine also. But I dread
The matron's scorn, the brave man's just disdain,
Should fear seduce me to desert the field.
No, my Andromache, my fearless heart
Me rather urges into foremost fight,
Studious of Priam's glory and my own.
For my prophetic soul foresees a day
When Ilium, Ilium's people, and himself,
Her warlike king, shall perish. But no grief
For Ilium; for her people; for the king,
My warlike sire; nor even for the queen ;
Nor for the num'rous and the valiant band,
My brothers, destin'd all, to bite the ground,
So moves me, as my grief for thee alone,
Doom'd then to follow some imperious Greek,
A weeping captive, to the distant shores
Of Argos; there to labour at the loom
For a task-mistress, and with many a sigh,
But heaved in vain, to bear the pondrous urn
From Hypereia's, or Messeis' fount.
Fast flow thy tears the while, and as he eyes
That silent shower, some passing Greek shall say—
'This was the wife of Hector, who excell'd
All Troy in fight, when Ilium was besieged.'
While thus he speaks, the tears shall flow afresh,
The guardian of thy freedom while he lived
For ever lost; but be my bones inhumed,
A senseless store, or e'er thy parting cries
Shall pierce mine ear, and thou be dragg'd away."
"Answered the crested Hector: All thy cares,
Dear wife, are also mine; but greatly I fear
The scorn of Trojans and their long-robed dames,
If, like a coward, I should shrink from war;
Nor doth my soul so prompt me. I have learnt
To fight amid the foremost, and to guard
My father's deathless glory, and my own.
For well doth my presaging mind foresee
A coming day, when sacred Troy shall fall,
Priam, and battle-loving Priam's race.
Yet all these threatened evils-all that Troy
Shall suffer, and e'en Hecuba herself,
And Priam, and my kinsmen many and brave,
Destined to fall beneath their foemen's steel,
Rack not my heart so deeply as the thought
Of thee a captive-thee amid thy tears
Carried to Argos by some mail-clad Greek,
And there in labour of the loom employed,
Or bearing water at a stranger's beck
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