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Onward she drives him, furious to engage,
Where the fight burns, and where the thickest

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

hangs And nodding Ilium waits the impending fall.”


Invocation to the catalogue of ships.

When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight,
Aud gilds old Ocean with a blaze of light.
Bright as the star that fires the 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 flowy; Onward she drives him headlong to engage,

furious Where the war bleeds, and where the fiercest rage. fight burns


“ 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;

of Dares first the combat sought, A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault.

“ Say, Virgins, seated round the throne divine,
All-knowing Goddesses ! immortal Nine!
Since Earth's wide regions, Heaven's unmeasured

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, fired by thirst of fame,
Or urged 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 throngh Heaven and Earth, aud Hell

And all things know, and all things can resound !
Relate what armies sought the Trojan land,
What nations follow'd, and what chiefs com-

mand ;
(For doubtful fame distracts mankind below,
And nothing can we tell and nothing know)
Without your aid, to count the unnumber'd train,
A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were


Conclusion of Book viii. v. 637.

Book v. v.1.

“ 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;
The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies."

“ As when the moon, refulgeut lamp of night,
O'er Heaven's clear azure spreads her sacred light,
When not a breath disturbs the deep serene,
And not a cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene;
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole ;
O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed,
And tip with silver every mountain's head;
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise,
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies;
The conscious swains, rejoicing in the sight,
Eye the blue vault, and bless the useful light.
So many flames before proud Ilion blaze,
Aud lighten 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 usky horrors gild,
And shoot a shady lustre o'er the field.
Full fifty guards each flaming pile attend,
Whose umber'd arms by fits thick flashes send;
Loud neigh the coursers o'er the heaps of corn,
And ardent warriors wait the rising morn."

But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,
Fills with her rage, and warms with all her fires ;

O'er all the Greeks decrees his fame to raise,
Above the Greeks her warrior's fame to raise,

his deathless And crown her hero with immortal praise :

Bright from his beamy crest the lightnings play,
High on

From his broad buckler flash'd the living ray;
High on his helin celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;
The Goddess with her breath the flames supplies,
Bright as the star whose fires in Autumn rise ;
Her breath divine thick streaming flames sup.

Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies :
The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires the autumual skies :

As when in stillness of the silent night,
As when the moon in all her lustre bright;
As when the moon, refulgent lamp of night,
O'er Heaven's clear azure sheds her silver light;

pure spreads sacred
As still in air the trembling lustre stood,
And o'er its golden border shoots a flood;
When no loose gale disturbs the deep serene,

not a breath
And no dim cloud o'ercasts the solemn scene;

not a
Around her silver throne the planets glow
And stars unnumber'd trembling beams bestow:
Around her throne the vivid planets roll,
And stars unnumber'd gild the glowing pole.

" 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 ;

Clear gleams of light o'er the dark trees are seen, place, and consider it a little at your leisure.

o'er the dark trees a yellow sheds, I am sure you can give it a little turn.' I reO'er the dark trees a yellower green they shed,

turned from Lord Halifax's with Dr. Garth, gleam verdure

in his chariot ; and, as we were going along, And tip with silver all the mountain heads.

was saying to the doctor, that my lord bad laid forest

me under a great deal of difficulty by such loose And tip with silver every mountain's head. and general observations; that I had been thinkThe valleys open, and the forests rise,

ing over the passages almost ever since, and The vales appear, the rocks in prospect rise,

could not guess at what it was that offended his Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise.

lordship in either of them.

Garth laughed All nature stands reveal'd before our eyes ; A flood of glory bursts from all the skies.

heartily at my embarrassment; said, I had not The conscious shepherd, joyful at the sight,

been long enough acquainted with Lord Halifax Eyes the blue vault, and numbers every light. to know his way yet; that I need not puzzle The conscious swains, rejoicing at the sight, : myself about looking those places over and over

shepherds, gazing with delight when I got home. • All you need do (says Eye the blue vault, and bless the vivid light,

he) is to leave them just as they are; call on glorious

Lord Halifax two or three months hence, useful

thank him for his kind observations on those So many flames before the navy blaze, proud Ilion

passages, and then read them to him as altered. And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays;

I have known him much longer than you have, Wide o'er the fields to Troy extend the gleams, and will be answerable for the event.' I folAnd tip the distant spires with fainter beams; lowed his advice; waited on Lord Halifax The long reflections of the distant fires

some time after ; said, I hoped he would find Gild the high walls, and tremble un the spires ;

his objections to those passages removed; read Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires; A thousand fires, at distant stations, bright,

them to him exactly as they were at first; and Gild the dark prospect, and dispel the night.

his lordship was extremely pleased with them,

and cried out, “ Ay, now they are perfectly Of these specimens every man who has culti- right; nothing can be better.'” vated poetry, or who delights to trace the mind It is seldom that the great or the wise suspect from the rudeness of its first conceptions to the that they are despised or cheated. Halifax, elegance of its last, will naturally desire a thinking this a lucky opportunity of securing greater number; but most other readers are immortality, made some advances of favour already tired, and I am not writing only to and some overtures of advantage to Pope, which poets and philosophers.

he seems to have received with sullen coldness. The “ Iliad” was published volume by vo- All our knowledge of this transaction is delume, as the translation proceeded : the four rived from a single letter (Dec. 1, 1714), in first books appeared in 1715. The expectation which Pope says, “ I am obliged to you, both of this work was undoubtedly high, and every for the favours you have done me, and those man who had connected his name with criti- you intend me. I distrust neither your will cism or poetry was desirous of such intelligence nor your memory, when it is to do good; and as might enable him to talk upon the popular if I ever become troublesome or solicitous, it topic. Halifax, who, by having been first a must not be out of expectation, but out of gratipoet and then a patron of poetry, had acquired tude. Your lordship may cause me to live the right of being a judge, was willing to hear agreeably in the town, or contentedly in the some books while they were yet unpublished. country, which is really all the difference I set Of this rehearsal Pope afterwards gave the fol- between an easy fortune and a small one. It is lowing account:*

indeed a high strain of generosity in you to 6. The famous Lord Halifax was rather a think of making me easy all my life, only bepretender to taste than really possessed of it. cause I have been so happy as to divert you When I had finished the two or three first some few hours; but, if I may have leave to books of my translation of the “Iliad,' that add, it is because you think me no enemy to my lord desired to have the pleasure of hearing native country, there will appear a better reathem read at his house-Addison, Congreve, son; for I must of consequence be very much and Garth, were there at the reading. In four (as I sincerely am) yours, &c." or five places, Lord Halifax stopped me very These voluntary offers, and this faint acceptcivilly, and with a speech each time of much ance, ended without effect. The patron was the same kind, • I beg your pardon, Mr. Pope: not accustomed to such frigid gratitude; and but there is something in that passage that does the poet fed his own pride with the dignity of not quite please me. Be so good as to mark the independence. They probably were suspicious

of each other. Pope would not dedicate till he

saw at what rate his praise was valued ; he • Spence.

would be " troublesome out of gratitude, not

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expectation.” Halifax thought himself entitled | Ing that he had re-established their friendship; to confidence; and would give nothing unless and wrote to Pope that Addison once suspected he knew what he should receive. Their com- him of too close a confederacy with Swift, but merce had its beginning in hope of praise on was now satisfied with his conduct. To this one side, and of money on the other, and ended Pope answered, a week after, that his engagebecause Pope was less eager of money than Ha- ments to Swift were such as his services in relifax of praise. It is not likely that Halifax gard to the subscription demanded, and that the had any personal benevolence to Pope; it is tories never put him under the necessity of askevident that Pope looked on Halifax with scorn ing leave to be grateful. “ But,” says he, “as and hatred.

Mr. Addison must be the judge in what reThe reputation of this great work failed in gards himself, and seems to have no very just gaining him a patron, but it deprived him of a one in regard to me, so I must own to you I friend. Addison and he were now at the head expect nothing but civility from him.” In the of poetry and criticism; and both in such a same letter he mentions Philips, as having been state of elevation, that, like the two rivals in busy to kindle animosity between them ; but the Roman state, one could no longer bear an in a letter to Addison he expresses some conequal, nor the other a superior. Of the gradual sciousness of behaviour inattentively deficient abatement of kindness between friends, the be- in respect. ginning is often scarcely discernible to them- Of Swift's industry in promoting the subselves, and the process is continued by petty scription, there remains the testimony of Kenprovocations and incivilities, sometimes peev- net, no friend to either him or Pope. ishly returned and sometimes contemptuously “ Nov. 2, 1713, Dr. Swift came into the cof. neglected, which would escape all attention but fee-house, and had a bow from every body but that of pride, and drop from any memory but me, who, I confess, could not but despise him. that of resentment. That the quarrel of these When I came to the anti-chamber to wait, betwo wits should be minutely deduced, is not to fore prayers, Dr. Swift was the principal man be expected from a writer, to whom, as Homer of talk and business, and acted as master of says, “nothing but rumour has reached, and has requests.-Then he instructed a young nobleno personal knowledge.”

man that the best poet in England was Mr. Pope doubtless approached Addison when the Pope (a papist), who had begun a translation of reputation of their wit first brought them to- Homer into English verse, for which he must gether, with the respect due to a man whose have them all subscribe ; for, says he, the author abilities were acknowledged, and who, having shall not begin to print till I have a thousand attained that eminence to which he was himself guineas for him.” aspiring, had in his hands the distribution of li- About this time it is likely that Steele, who terary fame. He paid court with sufficient was, with all his political fury, good natured diligence by his prologue to “ Cato,” by his and officious, procured an interview between abuse of Dennis, and with praise yet more di- these angry rivals, which ended in aggravated rect, by his poem on the “ Dialogues on Me- malevolence. On this occasion, if the reports dals,” of which the immediate publication was be true, Pope made his complaint with frankthen intended. In all this there was no hy-ness and spirit, as a man undeservedly negpocrisy; for he confessed that he found in Ad-lected or opposed; and Addison affected a condison somethir more pleasing than in any temptuous unconcern, and, in a calm even voice, other man

reproached Pope with his vanity, and telling him It may be supposed, that as Pope saw himself of the improvements which his early works had favoured by the world, and more frequently received from his own remarks and those of compared his own powers with those of others, Steele, said, that he, being now engaged in his confidence increased and his submission les- public business, had no longer any care for his sened; and that Addison felt no delight from poetical reputation, nor had any other desire, the advances of a young wit, who might soon with regard to Pope, than that he should not, contend with him for the highest place. Every by too much arrogance, alienate the public. great man, of whatever kind be his greatness, To this Pope is said to have replied with has among his friends those who officiously or great keenness and severity, upbraiding Adidiinsiduously quicken his attention to offences, son with perpetual dependence, and with the heighten his disgust, and stimulate his resent- abuse of those qualifications which he had obqent. Of such adherents Addison doubtless tained at the public cost, and charging him Ad many; and Pope was now too high to be with mean endeavours to obstruct the progress without them.

of rising merit. The contest rose so high that From the emission and reception of the pro- they parted at last without any interchange of posals for the “ Iliad,” the kindness of Addison civility. seems to have abated. Jervas the painter once The first volume of Homer was (1715) in picased himself (Aug. 20, 1711) with imagin- time published ; and a rival version of the first


Iliad,” for rivals the time of their appear- | couraged Gildon to publish those scandals, and ance inevitably made them, was immediately had given him ten guineas after they were pubprinted, with the name of Tickell. It was lished. The next day while I was heated with soon perceived that among the followers of Ado what I had heard, I wrote a letter to Mr. Addison, Tickell had the preference, and the cri- dison, to let him know that I was not unactics and poets divided into factions. I,” says quainted with this behaviour of his; that, if I Pope, “ have the town, that is, the mob, on my was to speak severely of him in return for it, it side; but it is not uncommon for the smaller should be not in such a dirty way; that I party to supply by industry what it wants in should rather tell him, himself, fairly of his numbers. I appeal to the people as my right-faults, and allow his good qualities; and that it ful judges, and, while they are not inclined to should be something in the following manner; condemn me, shall not fear the high-flyers at I then adjoined the first sketch of what has Button's.” This opposition he immediately since been called my satire on Addison. Mr. imputed to Addison, and complained of it in Addison used me very civilly ever after." terms sufficiently resentful to Craggs, their com- The verses on Addison, when they were sent mon friend.

to Atterbury, were considered by him as the When Addison's opinion was asked, he de- most excellent of Pope's performances; and clared the versions to be both good, but Tickell's the writer was advised, since he knew where the best that had ever been written; and some- his strength lay, not to suffer it to remain times said that they were both good, but that unemployed. Tickell had more of Homer.

This year (1715) being, by the subscription, Pope was now sufficiently irritated; his re- enabled to live more by choice, having persuaded putation and his interest were at hazard. He his father to sell their estate at Binfield, he puronce intended to print together the four ver- chased, I think only for his life, that house at sions of Dryden, Maynwaring, Pope, and Tick-Twickenham, to which his residence afterwards ell, that they might be readily compared, and procured so much celebration, and removed fairly estimated. This design seems to have thither with his father and mother. been defeated by the refusal of Tonson, who Here he planted the vines and the quincunx was the proprietor of the other three versions. which his verses mention; and being under the

Pope intended, at another time, a rigorous necessity of making a subterraneous passage to criticism of Tickell's translation, and had a garden on the other side of the road, he adornmarked a copy, which I have seen, in all places ed it with fossile bodies, and dignified it with that appeared defective. But, while he was the title of a grotto, a place of silence and rethus meditating defence or revenge, his adver-treat, from which he endeavoured to persuade sary sunk before him without a blow; the his friends and himself that cares and passions voice of the public was not long divided, and could be excluded. the preference was universally given to Pope's A grotto is not often the wish or pleasure of performance.

an Englishman, who has more frequent need to He was convinced, by adding one circum- solicit than exclude the sun; but Pope's excastance to another, that the other translation vation was requisite as an entrance to his garwas the work of Addison himself; but if he den, and as some men try to be proud of their knew it in Addison's life-time, it does not ap- defects, he extracted an ornament from an inpear that he told it. He left his illustrious an- convenience, and vanity produced a grotto tagonist to be punished by what has been con- where necessity enforced a passage. It may be sidered as the most painful of all reflections, frequently remarked of the studious and specuthe remembrance of a crime perpetrated in lative, that they are proud of trifles, and that vain.

their amusements seem frivolous and childish; The other circumstances of their quarrel were whether it be that men conscious of great rethus related by Pope, *

putation think themselves above the reach of “ Philips seemed to have been encouraged to censure, and safe in the admission of negligent abuse me in coffee-houses and conversations; indulgences, or that mankind expect from eleand Gildon wrote a thing about Wycherly, in vated genius a uniformity of greatness, and which he had abused both me and my relations watch its degradation with malicious wonder; very grossly. Lord Warwick himself told me like him who, having followed with his eye an one day, that it was in vain for me to endeavour eagle into the clouds, should lament that she to be well with Mr. Addison; that his jealous ever descended to a perch. temper would never admit of a settled friend- While the volumes of his Homer were anship between us; and, to convince me of what nually published, he collected his former works he had said, assured me that Addison had en

. See however the Life of Addison in the “ Bio graphia Britaunica,' last edition.-R.

* Spence.

his poems.

(1717) into one quarto volume, to which he dred and forty copies were sold at sixteen shilprefixed a preface, written with great sprightli- ings each. ness and elegance, which was afterwards re- On this undertaking, to which Pope was in. printed, with some passages subjoined that he duced by a reward of two hundred and sevenat first omitted; other marginal additions of teen pounds twelve shillings, he seems never to the same kind he made in the later editions of have reflected afterwards without vexation; for

Waller remarks, that poets lose Theobald, a man of heavy diligence, with very half their praise, because the reader knows not slender powers, first, in a book called “ Shakwhat they have blotted. Pope's voracity of speare Restored,” and then in a formal edition, fame taught him the art of obtaining the accu- detected his deficiences with all the insolence of mulated honour, both of what he had published victory; and, as he was now high enough to be and of what he had suppressed.

feared and hated, Theobald had from others al In this year his father died suddenly, in his the help that could be supplied by the desire of seventy-fifth year, baving passed twenty-nine humbling a haughty character. years in privacy. He is not known but by the From this time Pope became an enemy to character which his son has given him. If the editors, collators, commentators, and verbal crimoney with which he retired was all gotten tics; and hoped to persuade the world, that he by himself, he had traded very successfully miscarried in this undertaking only by having in times when sudden riches were rarely at- a mind too great for such minute employment. tainable.

Pope in his edition undoubtedly did many The publication of the “ Iliad” was at last things wrong, and left many things undone; completed in 1720. The splendour and success but let bim not be defrauded of his due praise. of this work raised Pope many enemies, that He was the first that knew, at least the first endeavoured to depreciate his abilities. Burnet, that told, by what helps the text might be im. who was afterwards a judge of no mean repu- proved. If he inspected the early editions nego tation, censured him in a piece called “ Ho-ligently, he taught others to be more accurate. meridts,” before it was published. Ducket | In his preface he expanded with great skill and likewise endeavoured to make him ridiculous. elegance the character which had been given Dennis was the perpetual persecutor of all his of Shakspeare by Dryden; and he drew thó studies. But, whoever his critics were, their public attention upon his works, which, though writings are lost; and the names which are often mentioned, had been little read. preserved are preserved in the “ Dunciad.” Soon after the appearance of the “ Iliad,"

In this disastrous year (1720) of national in- l'esolving not to let the general kindness cool, fatuation, when more riches than Peru can he published proposals for a translation of the boast were expected from the South Sea, when “ Odyssey,” in five volumes, for five gaineas. the contagion of avarice tainted every mind, He was willing, however, now to have assoand even poets panted after wealth, Pope was ciates in his labour, being either weary with seized with the universal passion, and ventured toiling upon another's thoughts, or having some of his money. The stock rose in its heard, as Ruff head relates, that Fenton and price; and for awhile he thought himself the Broome had already begun the work, and lord of thousands. But this dream of happi- liking better to have them confederates than ness did not last long; and he seems to have rivals. waked soon enough to get clear with the loss of In the patent, instead of saying that he had what he once thought himself to have won, and “ translated” the “ Odyssey," as he had said of perhaps not wholly of that.

the “Iliad,” he says, that he had “undertaken" Next year he published some select poems of a translation ; and in the proposals the subscriphis friend Dr. Parnell, with a very elegant de- tion is said to be not solely for his own use, but dication to the Earl of Oxford; who, after all for that of “two of his friends who have ashis struggles and dangers, then lived in retire- sisted him in this work." ment, still under the frown of a victorious fac- In 1723, while he was engaged in this new tion, who could take no pleasure in hearing his version, he appeared before the Lords at the praise.

memorable trial of Bishop Atterbury, with He gave the same year (1721) an edition of whom he had lived in great familiarity and freShakspeare. His name was now of so much quent correspondence. Atterbury had honestly authority, that Tonson thought himself entitled, recommended to him the study of the popish by annexing it, to demand a subscription of six controversy, in hope of his conversion; to guineas for Shakspeare's plays in six quarto vo- which Pope answered in a manner that cannot lumes : nor did his expectation much deceive murh recommend his principles or his judga him; for, of seven hundred and fifty which he ment. In questions and projects of learning printed, he dispersed a great number at the they agreed better. He was called at the trial price proposed. The reputation of that edition to give an account of Atterbury's domestic life indeed sunk afterwards so low, that one hun- and private employment, that it might appear

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