The golden vase in purple palls they roll'd, And peaceful slept the mighty Hector's shade. 1010 CONCLUSION. We have now passed through the Iliad, and seen the anger of Achilles, and the terrible effects of it, at an end. As that only was the subject of the poem, and the nature of epic poetry would not permit our author to proceed to the event of the war, it may, perhaps, be acceptable to the common reader to give a short account of what happened to Troy, and the chief actors of this poem, after the conclusion of it. I need not mention that Troy was taken soon after the death of Hector, by the stratagem of the wooden horse, the particulars of which are described by Virgil in the second book of the Æneis. Achilles fell before Troy, by the hand of Paris, by the shot of an arrow in his heel, as Hector had prophesied at his death, Book xxii. The unfortunate Priam was killed by Pyrrhus, the son of Achilles. Ajax, after the death of Achilles, had a contest with Ulysses for the armour of Vulcan; but, being defeated in his aim, he slew himself through indignation. Helen, after the death of Paris, married Deïphobus, his brother, and, at the taking of Troy, betrayed him, in order to reconcile herself to Menelaüs, her first husband, who received her again into favour. Agamemnon at his return was barbarously murdered by Ægysthus, at the instigation of Clytemnestra, his wife, who, in his absence, had dishonoured his bed with gysthus. Diomed, after the fall of Troy, was expelled his own country, and scarce escaped with life from his adulterous wife Ægiale; but at last was received by Daunus in Apulia, and shared his kingdom: it is uncertain how he died. Nestor lived in peace, with his children, in Pylos, his native country. Ulysses also, after innumerable troubles by sea and land, at last returned in safety to Ithaca, which is the subject of Homer's Odyssey. I must end these remarks by discharging my duty to two of my friends, which is the more an indispensable piece of justice, as the one of them is since dead: the merit of their kindness to me will appear infinitely the greater, as the task they undertook was, in its own nature, of much more labour than either pleasure or reputation. The larger part of the extracts from Eustathius, together with several excellent observations, were sent me by Mr. Broome; and the whole essay upon Homer was written, upon such memoirs as I had collected, by the late Dr. Parnelle, Archdeacon of Clogher in Ireland: how very much that gentleman's friendship prevailed over his genius, in detaining a writer of his spirit in the drudgery of removing the rubbish of past pedants, will soon appear to the world, when they shall see those beautiful pieces of poetry, the publication of which he left to my charge, almost with his dying breath. For what remains, I beg to be excused from the ceremonies of taking leave at the end of my work; and from embarrassing myself or others with any defences or apologies about it. But instead of endeavouring to raise a vain monument to myself, of the merits or difficulties of it, (which must be left to the world, to truth, and to posterity,) let me leave behind me a memorial of my friendship with one of the most valuable men, as well as finest writers of my age and country: one who has tried, and knows by his own experience, how hard an undertaking it is to do justice to Homer: and one who, I am sure, sincerely rejoices with me at the period of my labours. To him, therefore, having brought this long work to a conclusion, I desire to dedicate it; and to have the honour and satisfaction of placing together, in this manner, the names of Mr. CONGREVE and of A. POPE. March 25, 1720. WRITTEN BY MR. GAY, Upon Mr. Pope's having finished his Translation of Homer's Iliad. LONG hast thou, friend! been absent from thy soil, What lady's that, to whom he gently bends? Like patient Ithacus, at siege of Troy; I have been witness of thy six years' toil, On the wide sea, oft threatening to destroy: Methinks with thee I've trod Sigaan ground, And heard the shores of Hellespont resound. Did I not see thee when thou first sett'st sail And wish thy bark had never left the strand? Even in mid ocean often didst thou quail, And oft lift up thy holy eye, and hand, Praying the Virgin dear, and saintly choir, Back to the port to bring thy bark entire. Cheer up, my friend, thy dangers now are o'er; Methinks-nay, sure the rising coasts appear; Hark how the guns salute from either shore, Who knows not her? ah! those are Wortley's eyes! 5 The sweet-tongued Murray near her side attends: 10 The fair-hair'd Martha, and Teresa brown; As thy trim vessel cuts the Thames so fair: 20 Shouts answering shouts, from Kent and Essex roar, And bells break loud thro' every gust of air; Bonfires do blaze, and bones and cleavers ring, As at the coming of some mighty king. 30 Now pass we Gravesend with a friendly wind, 25 For I have still some dozens of champaign:" Oh, what a concourse swarms on yonder quay! 35 40 45 Who come in crowds to welcome thee from Troy. Hail to the bard whom long as lost we mourn'd, From siege, from battle, and from storm return'd! Of goodly dames, and courteous knights, I view The silken petticoat, and 'broider'd vest; Yea, peers, and mighty dukes, with ribands blue (True blue, fair emblem of unstained breast). Others, I see, as noble, and more true, 74 80 See next the decent Scudamore advance, 85 50 Harcourt I see, for eloquence renown'd, The mouth of justice, oracle of law! Another Simon is beside him found, Another Simon, like as straw to straw. [cries: Thee Jervas hails, robust and debonair: And wondering Maine, so fat, with laughing eyes, O Wanley, whence com'st thou with shorten'd hair, 140 155 And Titcomb's belly waddles slow along. 165 THERE is something truly interesting in this sketch of Gay's; it sets before us, in a most familiar manner, the friends and companions of the day; and it is, moreover, beautifully touched and finished. Almost all the persons introduced have some striking or humorous characteristic; we seem to see them before us. The old beau, "Cromwell, with red breeches;" Ned Blount, "with busy pace, in haste, but sauntering;" Evans, with "laugh jocose," and "tragic Young;" and lastly, my "Maistre Wanley," the honest, but solemn librarian of Lord Oxford. The following characteristic letter from Pope to him, is one of those in the British Museum, on the back of which he wrote his translation: "To my worthy and special friend, Maistre Wanley, dwelling at my singular good Lord's, my Lord of Oxford, kindly present. "WORTHY SIR: I shall take it as a singular mark of your friendly disposition and kindnesse to me, if you will recommend to my palate, from the experienced taste of yours, a doussaine quartes of good and wholesome wine, such as yee drink at the Genoa Arms, for the which I will in honorable sort be indebted, and well and truly pay the owner thereof, your said merchant of wines at the said Genoa Arms. As witness this myne hand, which also witnesseth its master to be, in sooth and sincerity of heart, "Goode Sir, yours ever bounden, "From Twickenham, this fyrste of Julie, 1725.” "A. POPE. RELIGIOUS, SCIENTIFIC, HISTORICAL, CLASSICAL AND MISCELLANEOUS BOOKS, PUBLISHED AND FOR SALE BY SILAS ANDRUS AND SON; HARTFORD, (CONN.) 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