ployment, but never proposed a pension. While the translation of " Homer" was in its progress, Mr. Craggs, then secretary of state, offered to procure him a pension, which, at least during his ministry, might be enjoyed with secrecy. This was not accepted by Pope, who told him, however, that if he should be pressed with want of money, he would send to him for occasional supplies. Craggs was not long in power, and was never solicited for money by Pope, who disdained to beg what he did not want.

With the product of this subscription, which he had too much discretion to squander, he secured his future life from want, by considerable annuities. The estate of the Duke of Buckingham was found to have been charged with five hundred pounds a year, payable to Pope, which doubtless his translation enabled him to purchase.

It cannot be unwelcome to fiterary curiosity, that I deduce thus minutely the history of the English "Iliad." It is certainly the noblest version of poetry which the world has ever seen; and its publication must therefore be considered as one of the great events in the annals of Learning.

To those who have skill to estimate the excellence and difficulty of this great work, it must be very desirable to know how it was performed, and by what gradations it advanced to correctness. Of such an intellectual process the knowledge has very rarely been attainable; but happily there remains the original copy of the "Iliad," which, being obtained by Bolingbroke as a curiosity, descended from him to Mallet, and is now by the solicitation of the late Dr. Mary reposited in the Museum.

Between this manuscript, which is written upon accidental fragments of paper, and the printed edition, there must have been an intermediate copy, that was perhaps destroyed as it returned from the press.

From the first copy I have procured a few transcripts, and shall exhibit first the printed lines; then, in a small print, those of the manuscripts, with all their variations. Those words in the small print which are given in Italicks, are cancelled in the copy, and the words placed under them adopted in their stead.

The beginning of the first book stands thus ;

The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring

Of all the Grecian woes, O Goddess, sing,
That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign

The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain.

The stern Pelides' rage, O Goddess, sing.

Whose limbs unburied on the naked shore,
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore,
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove;

Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.

Whose limbs, unburied on the hostile shore,

Devouring dogs and greedy vultures tore,
Since first Atrides and Achilles strove;

Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.

Declare, O Muse, in what ill-fated hour

Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power?
Latona's son a dire contagion spread,

And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead;
The King of men his reverend priest defy'd,

And for the king's offence the people dy❜d.

Declare, O Goddess, what offended Power Enfam'd their rage, in that ill'omen'd hour fatal, hapless

anger

Phoebus himself the dire debate procur'd ;

fierce

T' avenge the wrongs his injur'd priest endured
For this the God a dire infection spread,

And heap'd the camp with millions of the dead :
The King of Men the Sacred Sire defy'd,
And for the king's offence the people dy'd.

For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain
His captive daughter from the Victor's chain;
Suppliant the venerable Father stands,
Apollo's awful ensigns grace his hands,
By these he begs, and lowly bending down,
Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown.
For Chryses sought by presents to regain

If

mercy fail, yet let my present move,
And dread avenging Phœbus, son of Jove.

But, oh relieve a hapless parent's pain,
And give my daughter to these arms again :
Receive my gifts; if mercy fails, yet let my present move,
And fear the God that deals his darts ground,

avenging Phoebus, son of Jové.

The Greeks, in shouts, their joint assent declare
The priest to reverence, and release the fair.
Not so Atrides; he with kingly pride,
Repuls'd the sacred Sire, and thus reply'd.
He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare,
The father said, the gen'rous Greeks relent,
T'accept the ransom, and release the fair:
Revere the priest, and speak their joint assent :
Not so the tyrant, he, with kingly pride,

Atrides,

Repuls'd the sacred Sire, and thus reply'd

[Not so the tyrant. DRYDEN]

Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that there was yet. a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with interlineations.

The beginning of the second book varies very little from the printed page, and is therefore set down without any parallel; the few differences do not require to be elaborately displayed.

Now pleasing sleep had seal'd each mortal eye;
Stretch'd in their tents the Grecian leaders lie;
Th' Immortals slumber'd on their thrones above,
All but the ever watchful eye of Jove.

To honour Theti ' son he bends his care,
And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war.

Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,
And thus commands the vision of the night:

directs

Fly hence, delusive dream, and, light as air,
To Agamemnon's royal tent repair;

Bid him in arms draw forth th' embattled train,
March all his legions to the dusty plain.
Now tell the King 'tis given him to destroy
Declare ev'n now

The lofty walls of wide extended Troy;

tow'rs

For now no more the Gods with Fate contend;
At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction bovers o'er yon devoted wall,

hangs

And nodding Ilium waits th' impending fall.

Invocation to the Catalogue of Ships.

Say, Virgins, seated round the throne divine,
All knowing Goddesses! immortal Nine!
Since earth's wide regions, heaven's unmeasured height.
And hell's abyss, hide nothing from your sight,
(We wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,
But guess by rumour, and but boast we know)
Oh say what heroes, fir'd by thirst of fame,
Or urg'd by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came!
To count them all demands a thousand tongues,
A throat of brass and adamantine lungs.

Now, Virgin Goddesses, immortal Nine!
That round Olympus' heavenly summit shine,
Who see through heaven and earth, and hell profound,
And all things know, and all things can resound;
Relate what armies sought the Trojan land,

What nations follow'd, and what chiefs command;
(For doubtful Fame distracts mankind below,
And nothing can we tell, and nothing know)
Without your aid, to count th' unnumbered train,
A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues were vain,

Book V.

2. I.

But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,

Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires:

Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,
And crown her hero with distinguish'd praise,
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;

Th

High on

helm

From his broad buckler flash'd the living ray,
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray.

The Goddess with her breath the flame supplies,
Bright as the stars whose fires in Autumn rise;
Her breath divine thick streaming flames supplies,
Bright as the stars that fires the autumnal skies;
Th' unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires th' autumnal skies.

When first he rears his radiant orb to sight,
And bath'd in ocean shoots a keener light.
Such glories Pallas on the chief bestow'd,
Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flow'd;
Onward she drives him furious to engage,

Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage.

When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight,
And gilds old Ocean with a blaze of light,
Bright as the star that fires th' autumnal skies,
Fresh from the deep, and gilds the seas and skies.
Such glories Pallas on her chief bestow'd,
Such sparkling rays from his bright armour flow'd,
Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flow'd,
Onward she drives him headlong to engage,

furious

Where the quar bleeds, and where the fiercest rage.

fight burns,

thickest

The sons of Dares first the combat sought. ·
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault;
In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led,
The sons to toils of glorious battle bred;

There lived a Trojan-Dares was his name,
The priest of Vulcan, rich, yet void of blame;
The sons of Dares first the combat sought,
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault.

Conclusion