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


And nodding Ilium waits the 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

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 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 the unnumber'd train, A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain.

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."

But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,

Fills with her rage, and warms with all her fires; force

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 helm 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 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 the autumnal skies,
Fresh from the deep, and gilds the seas and

Such glories Pallas on her chief bestow'd,
Such sparkling rays from his bright armour

Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flow'; Onward she drives him headlong to engage,


Where the war 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 of Book viii. v. 687.

"As when the moon, refulgent 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,
And 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 dusky 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.”

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 a'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⚫

Clear gleams of light o'er the dark trees are seen, o'er the dark trees a yellow sheds, O'er the dark trees a yellower green they shed,

gleam verdure

And tip with silver all the mountain heads.

And tip with silver every mountain's head.
The valleys open, and the forests rise,
The vales appear, the rocks in prospect rise,
Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise.
All nature stands reveal'd before our eyes;
A flood of glory bursts from all the skies.
The conscious shepherd, joyful at the sight,
Eyes the blue vault, and numbers every light.
The conscious swains, rejoicing at the sight,
shepherds, gazing with delight
Eye the blue vault, and bless the vivid light,


So many flames before the navy blaze,
proud Ilion

And lighten glimmering Xanthus with their rays;
Wide o'er the fields to Troy extend the gleams,
And tip the distant spires with fainter beams;
The long reflections of the distant fires

Gild the high walls, and tremble on the spires;
Gleam on the walls, and tremble on the spires;
A thousand fires, at distant stations, bright,
Gild the dark prospect, and dispel the night.

place, and consider it a little at your leisure. I am sure you can give it a little turn.' I returned from Lord Halifax's with Dr. Garth, in his chariot; and, as we were going along, was saying to the doctor, that my lord had laid me under a great deal of difficulty by such loose and general observations; that I had been thinking over the passages almost ever since, and could not guess at what it was that offended his lordship in either of them. Garth laughed heartily at my embarrassment; said, I had not been long enough acquainted with Lord Halifax to know his way yet; that I need not puzzle myself about looking those places over and over when I got home. All you need do (says he) is to leave them just as they are; call on Lord Halifax two or three months hence, thank him for his kind observations on those passages, and then read them to him as altered. I have known him much longer than you have, and will be answerable for the event.' I followed his advice; waited on Lord Halifax some time after; said, I hoped he would find his objections to those passages removed; read them to him exactly as they were at first; and 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 from the rudeness of its first conceptions to the elegance of its last, will naturally desire a greater number; but, most other readers are already tired, and I am not writing only to poets and philosophers.

The "Iliad" was published volume by volume, as the translation proceeded: the four first books appeared in 1715. The expectation of this work was undoubtedly high, and every man who had connected his name with criti- | cism or poetry was desirous of such intelligence as might enable him to talk upon the popular topic. Halifax, who, by having been first a poet and then a patron of poetry, had acquired the right of being a judge, was willing to hear some books while they were yet unpublished. Of this rehearsal Pope afterwards gave the following account:*

"The famous Lord Halifax was rather a pretender to taste than really possessed of it. When I had finished the two or three first books of my translation of the Iliad,' that lord desired to have the pleasure of hearing them read at his house-Addison, Congreve, and Garth, were there at the reading. In four or five places, Lord Halifax stopped me very civilly, and with a speech each time of much the same kind, I beg your pardon, Mr. Pope: but there is something in that passage that does not quite please me. Be so good as to mark the

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• Spence.

It is seldom that the great or the wise suspect that they are despised or cheated. Halifax, thinking this a lucky opportunity of securing immortality, made some advances of favour and some overtures of advantage to Pope, which he seems to have received with sullen coldness. All our knowledge of this transaction is derived from a single letter (Dec. 1, 1714), in which Pope says, "I am obliged to you, both for the favours you have done me, and those you intend me. I distrust neither your will nor your memory, when it is to do good; and if I ever become troublesome or solicitous, it must not be out of expectation, but out of gratitude. Your lordship may cause me to live agreeably in the town, or contentedly in the country, which is really all the difference I set between an easy fortune and a small one. It is indeed a high strain of generosity in you to think of making me easy all my life, only because I have been so happy as to divert you some few hours; but, if I may have leave to add, it is because you think me no enemy to my native country, there will appear a better reason; for I must of consequence be very much (as I sincerely am) yours, &c."

These voluntary offers, and this faint acceptance, ended without effect. The patron was not accustomed to such frigid gratitude; and the poet fed his own pride with the dignity of independence. They probably were suspicious of each other. Pope would not dedicate till he saw at what rate his praise was valued; he would be troublesome out of gratitude, not


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 scorning 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 neglected, which would escape all attention but that of pride, and drop from any memory but that of resentment. That the quarrel of these two wits should be minutely deduced, is not to be expected from a writer, to whom, as Homer says, "nothing but rumour has reached, and has no personal knowledge."

"Nov. 2, 1713, Dr. Swift came into the coffee-house, and had a bow from every body but me, who, I confess, could not but despise him. When I came to the anti-chamber to wait, before prayers, Dr. Swift was the principal man of talk and business, and acted as master of requests.-Then he instructed a young nobleman that the best poet in England was Mr. Pope (a papist), who had begun a translation of Homer into English verse, for which he must have them all subscribe; for, says he, the author shall not begin to print till I have a thousand guineas for him."

Pope doubtless approached Addison when the reputation of their wit first brought them together, with the respect due to a man whose abilities were acknowledged, and who, having attained that eminence to which he was himself 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 Addison something more pleasing than in any other man

It may be supposed, that as Pope saw himself favoured by the world, and more frequently compared his own powers with those of others, his confidence increased and his submission lessened; and that Addison felt no delight from the advances of a young wit, who might soon contend with him for the highest place. Every great man, of whatever kind be his greatness, has among his friends those who officiously or insiduously quicken his attention to offences, heighten his disgust, and stimulate his resentent. Of such adherents Addison doubtless ad many; and Pope was now too high to be without them.

lected or opposed; and Addison affected a contemptuous unconcern, and, in a calm even voice, reproached Pope with his vanity, and telling him of the improvements which his early works had received from his own remarks and those of Steele, said, that he, being now engaged in public business, had no longer any care for his poetical reputation, nor had any other desire, with regard to Pope, than that he should not, by too much arrogance, alienate the public.

To this Pope is said to have replied with great keenness and severity, upbraiding Adðison with perpetual dependence, and with the abuse of those qualifications which he had obtained at the public cost, and charging him with mean endeavours to obstruct the progress of rising merit. The contest rose so high that they parted at last without any interchange of civility.

From the emission and reception of the proposals for the " Iliad," the kindness of Addison seems to have abated. Jervas the painter once The first volume of Homer was (1715) in pieased himself (Aug. 20, 1714) 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 what I had heard, I wrote a letter to Mr. Ad

soon perceived that among the followers of 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 Pope," have the town, that is, the mob, on my side; but it is not uncommon for the smaller party to supply by industry what it wants in numbers. I appeal to the people as my rightful judges, and, while they are not inclined to condemn me, shall not fear the high-flyers at Button's." This opposition he immediately imputed to Addison, and complained of it in terms sufficiently resentful to Craggs, their common friend.

When Addison's opinion was asked, he declared the versions to be both good, but Tickell's the best that had ever been written; and sometimes said that they were both good, but that Tickell had more of Homer.

quainted with this behaviour of his; that, if I was to speak severely of him in return for it, it should be not in such a dirty way; that I should rather tell him, himself, fairly of his faults, and allow his good qualities; and that it should be something in the following manner; I then adjoined the first sketch of what has since been called my satire on Addison. Mr. Addison used me very civilly ever after."*

The verses on Addison, when they were sent to Atterbury, were considered by him as the most excellent of Pope's performances; and the writer was advised, since he knew where his strength lay, not to suffer it to remain unemployed.

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 fairly estimated. This design seems to have been defeated by the refusal of Tonson, who was the proprietor of the other three versions.

Pope intended, at another time, a rigorous criticism of Tickell's translation, and had marked a copy, which I have seen, in all places that appeared defective. But, while he was thus meditating defence or revenge, his adversary sunk before him without a blow; the voice of the public was not long divided, and the preference was universally given to Pope's performance.

He was convinced, by adding one circumstance to another, that the other translation was the work of Addison himself; but if he knew it in Addison's life-time, it does not appear that he told it. He left his illustrious antagonist to be punished by what has been considered as the most painful of all reflections, the remembrance of a crime perpetrated in vain.

The other circumstances of their quarrel were thus related by Pope,*

"Philips seemed to have been encouraged to abuse me in coffee-houses and conversations; and Gildon wrote a thing about Wycherly, in which he had abused both me and my relations very grossly. Lord Warwick himself told me one day, that it was in vain for me to endeavour to be well with Mr. Addison; that his jealous temper would never admit of a settled friendship between us; and, to convince me of what he had said, assured me that Addison had en

* Spence.

procured so much celebration, and removed thither with his father and mother.

Here he planted the vines and the quincunx which his verses mention; and being under the necessity of making a subterraneous passage to a garden on the other side of the road, he adorned it with fossile bodies, and dignified it with the title of a grotto, a place of silence and retreat, from which he endeavoured to persuade his friends and himself that cares and passions could be excluded.

A grotto is not often the wish or pleasure of an Englishman, who has more frequent need to solicit than exclude the sun; but Pope's excavation was requisite as an entrance to his garden, and as some men try to be proud of their defects, he extracted an ornament from an inconvenience, and vanity produced a grotto where necessity enforced a passage. It may be frequently remarked of the studious and speculative, that they are proud of trifles, and that their amusements seem frivolous and childish; whether it be that men conscious of great reputation think themselves above the reach of censure, and safe in the admission of negligent indulgences, or that mankind expect from elevated genius a uniformity of greatness, and watch its degradation with malicious wonder; like him who, having followed with his eye an eagle into the clouds, should lament that she ever descended to a perch.

While the volumes of his Homer were annually published, he collected his former works

• See however the Life of Addison in the "Bio graphia Britannica, last edition.-R.

(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 reprinted, with some passages subjoined that he at first omitted; other marginal additions of the same kind he made in the later editions of his poems. Waller remarks, that poets lose half their praise, because the reader knows not what they have blotted. Pope's voracity of fame taught him the art of obtaining the accumulated honour, both of what he had published and of what he had suppressed.

In this year his father died suddenly, in his seventy-fifth year, having passed twenty-nine years in privacy. He is not known but by the character which his son has given him. If the money with which he retired was all gotten by himself, he had traded very successfully in times when sudden riches were rarely attainable.

On this undertaking, to which Pope was induced by a reward of two hundred and seventeen pounds twelve shillings, he seems never to have reflected afterwards without vexation; for Theobald, a man of heavy diligence, with very slender powers, first, in a book called "Shak speare Restored," and then in a formal edition, detected his deficiences with all the insolence of victory; and, as he was now high enough to be feared and hated, Theobald had from others al the help that could be supplied by the desire of humbling a haughty character.

From this time Pope became an enemy to editors, collators, commentators, and verbal critics; and hoped to persuade the world, that he miscarried in this undertaking only by having a mind too great for such minute employment.

Pope in his edition undoubtedly did many things wrong, and left many things undone; but let him not be defrauded of his due praise. He was the first that knew, at least the first that told, by what helps the text might be improved. If he inspected the early editions neg

The publication of the "Iliad" was at last completed in 1720. The splendour and success of this work raised Pope many enemies, that endeavoured to depreciate his abilities. Burnet, who was afterwards a judge of no mean reputation, censured him in a piece called "Ho-ligently, he taught others to be more accurate. merides," before it was published. Ducket likewise endeavoured to make him ridiculous. Dennis was the perpetual persecutor of all his studies. But, whoever his critics were, their writings are lost; and the names which are preserved are preserved in the "Dunciad.”

In this disastrous year (1720) of national infatuation, when more riches than Peru can boast were expected from the South Sea, when the contagion of avarice tainted every mind, and even poets panted after wealth, Pope was seized with the universal passion, and ventured some of his money. The stock rose in its price; and for awhile he thought himself the lord of thousands. But this dream of happiness did not last long; and he seems to have waked soon enough to get clear with the loss of what he once thought himself to have won, and perhaps not wholly of that.

Next year he published some select poems of his friend Dr. Parnell, with a very elegant dedication to the Earl of Oxford; who, after all his struggles and dangers, then lived in retirement, still under the frown of a victorious faction, who could take no pleasure in hearing his praise.

He gave the same year (1721) an edition of Shakspeare. His name was now of so much authority, that Tonson thought himself entitled, by annexing it, to demand a subscription of six guineas for Shakspeare's plays in six quarto volumes: nor did his expectation much deceive him; for, of seven hundred and fifty which he printed, he dispersed a great number at the price proposed. The reputation of that edition indeed sunk afterwards so low, that one hun

In his preface he expanded with great skill and elegance the character which had been given of Shakspeare by Dryden; and he drew the public attention upon his works, which, though often mentioned, had been little read.

Soon after the appearance of the "Iliad," resolving not to let the general kindness cool, he published proposals for a translation of the "Odyssey," in five volumes, for five guineas. He was willing, however, now to have associates in his labour, being either weary with toiling upon another's thoughts, or having heard, as Ruff head relates, that Fenton and Broome had already begun the work, and liking better to have them confederates than rivals.

In the patent, instead of saying that he had "translated" the "Odyssey," as he had said of the "Iliad," he says, that he had "undertaken" a translation; and in the proposals the subscription is said to be not solely for his own use, but for that of "two of his friends who have assisted him in this work.'

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In 1723, while he was engaged in this new version, he appeared before the Lords at the memorable trial of Bishop Atterbury, with whom he had lived in great familiarity and frequent correspondence. Atterbury had honestly recommended to him the study of the popish controversy, in hope of his conversion; to which Pope answered in a manner that cannot much recommend his principles or his judgment. In questions and projects of learning they agreed better. He was called at the tria to give an account of Atterbury's domestic life and private employment, that it might appear

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