Book XXIVArgument (part 5 of 5)

“And as a round piece of a rocke, which with a winter’s flood Is from his top torn, when a shoure poured from a bursten cloud, Hath broke the naturall band it had within the roughftey rock, Flies jumping all adourne the woods, resounding everie shocke, And on, uncheckt, it headlong leaps till in a plaine it stay, And then (tho’ never so impelled), it stirs not any way:— So Hector,—”

[231] This book forms a most agreeable interruption to the continuous round of battles, which occupy the latter part of the Iliad. It is as well to observe, that the sameness of these scenes renders many notes unnecessary.

[232] Who to Tydeus owes, i.e. Diomed.

[233] Compare Tasso:—

Teneri sdegni, e placide, e tranquille
Repulse, e cari vezzi, e liete paci,
Sorrisi, parolette, e dolci stille
Di pianto, e sospir tronchi, e molli baci.”

Gier. Lib. xvi. 25

[234] Compare the description of the dwelling of Sleep in Orlando Furioso, bk. vi.

[235]
“Twice seven, the charming daughters of the main—
Around my person wait, and bear my train:
Succeed my wish, and second my design,
The fairest, Deiopeia, shall be thine.”

Dryden’s Virgil, Æn. i. 107, seq.

[236] And Minos. “By Homer, Minos is described as the son of Jupiter, and of the daughter of Phœnix, whom all succeeding authors name Europa; and he is thus carried back into the remotest period of Cretan antiquity known to the poet, apparently as a native hero, Illustrious enough for a divine parentage, and too ancient to allow his descent to be traced to any other source. But in a genealogy recorded by later writers, he is likewise the adopted son of Asterius, as descendant of Dorus, the son of Helen, and is thus connected with a colony said to have been led into Creta by Tentamus, or Tectamus, son of Dorus, who is related either to have crossed over from Thessaly, or to have embarked at Malea after having led his followers by land into Laconia.”—Thirlwall, p. 136, seq.

[237] Milton has emulated this passage, in describing the couch of our first parents:—

“Underneath the violet,
Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay,
’Broider’d the ground.”

—“Paradise Lost,” iv. 700.

[238] He lies protected.

“Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run
By angels many and strong, who interpos’d
Defence, while others bore him on their shields
Back to his chariot, where it stood retir’d
From off the files of war; there they him laid,
Gnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame.”

“Paradise Lost,” vi. 335, seq.

[239] The brazen dome. See the note on Bk. viii. Page 142.

[240] For, by the gods! who flies. Observe the bold ellipsis of “he cries,” and the transition from the direct to the oblique construction. So in Milton:—

“Thus at their shady lodge arriv’d, both stood,
Both turn’d, and under open sky ador’d
The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heaven,
Which they beheld, the moon’s resplendent globe,
And starry pole.—Thou also mad’st the night,
Maker omnipotent, and thou the day.”

Milton, “Paradise Lost,” Book iv.

[241] So some tall rock.

“But like a rock unmov’d, a rock that braves
The raging tempest, and the rising waves—
Propp’d on himself he stands: his solid sides
Wash off the sea-weeds, and the sounding tides.”

Dryden’s Virgil, vii. 809.

[242] Protesilaus was the first Greek who fell, slain by Hector, as he leaped from the vessel to the Trojan shore. He was buried on the Chersonese, near the city of Plagusa. Hygin Fab. ciii. Tzetz. on Lycophr. 245, 528. There is a most elegant tribute to his memory in the Preface to the Heroica of Philostratus.

[243] His best beloved. The following elegant remarks of Thirlwall
(Greece, vol. i, p. 176 seq.) well illustrate the character of the
friendship subsisting between these two heroes—
“One of the noblest and most amiable sides of the Greek character,
is the readiness with which it lent itself to construct intimate
and durable friendships, and this is a feature no less prominent in
the earliest than in later times. It was indeed connected with the
comparatively low estimation in which female society was held; but
the devotedness and constancy with which these attachments were
maintained, was not the less admirable and engaging. The heroic
companions whom we find celebrated partly by Homer and partly in
traditions which, if not of equal antiquity, were grounded on the
same feeling, seem to have but one heart and soul, with scarcely a
wish or object apart, and only to live as they are always ready to
die for one another. It is true that the relation between them is
not always one of perfect equality; but this is a circumstance
which, while it often adds a peculiar charm to the poetical
description, detracts little from the dignity of the idea which it
presents. Such were the friendships of Hercules and Iolaus, of
Theseus and Pirithous, of Orestes and Pylades; and though These may
owe the greater part of their fame to the later epic or even
dramatic poetry, the moral groundwork undoubtedly subsisted in the
period to which the traditions are referred. The argument of the
Iliad mainly turns on the affection of Achilles for Patroclus,
whose love for the greater hero is only tempered by reverence for
his higher birth and his unequalled prowess. But the mutual regard
which united Idomeneus and Meriones, Diomedes and Sthenelus,
though, as the persons themselves are less important, it is kept
more in the back-ground, is manifestly viewed by the poet in the
same light. The idea of a Greek hero seems not to have been thought
complete, without such a brother in arms by his side.”—Thirlwall,
Greece, vol. i. p. 176, seq.

[244] “As hungry wolves with raging appetite, Scour through the fields, ne’er fear the stormy night— Their whelps at home expect the promised food, And long to temper their dry chaps in blood— So rush’d we forth at once.”

—Dryden’s Virgil, ii. 479.

[245] The destinies ordain.—“In the mythology, also, of the Iliad, purely Pagan as it is, we discover one important truth unconsciously involved, which was almost entirely lost from view amidst the nearly equal scepticism and credulity of subsequent ages. Zeus or Jupiter is popularly to be taken as omnipotent. No distinct empire is assigned to fate or fortune; the will of the father of gods and men is absolute and uncontrollable. This seems to be the true character of the Homeric deity, and it is very necessary that the student of Greek literature should bear it constantly in mind. A strong instance in the Iliad itself to illustrate this position, is the passage where Jupiter laments to Juno the approaching death of Sarpedon. ‘Alas me!’ says he ‘since it is fated (moira) that Sarpedon, dearest to me of men, should be slain by Patroclus, the son of Menoetius! Indeed, my heart is divided within me while I ruminate it in my mind, whether having snatched him up from out of the lamentable battle, I should not at once place him alive in the fertile land of his own Lycia, or whether I should now destroy him by the hands of the son of Menoetius!’ To which Juno answers—‘Dost thou mean to rescue from death a mortal man, long since destined by fate (palai pepromenon)? You may do it—but we, the rest of the gods, do not sanction it.’ Here it is clear from both speakers, that although Sarpedon is said to be fated to die, Jupiter might still, if he pleased, save him, and place him entirely out of the reach of any such event, and further, in the alternative, that Jupiter himself would destroy him by the hands of another.”—Coleridge, p. 156. seq.

[246] Thrice at the battlements. “The art military of the Homeric age is upon a level with the state of navigation just described, personal prowess decided every thing; the night attack and the ambuscade, although much esteemed, were never upon a large scale. The chiefs fight in advance, and enact almost as much as the knights of romance. The siege of Troy was as little like a modern siege as a captain in the guards is like Achilles. There is no mention of a ditch or any other line or work round the town, and the wall itself was accessible without a ladder. It was probably a vast mound of earth with a declivity outwards. Patroclus thrice mounts it in armour. The Trojans are in no respects blockaded, and receive assistance from their allies to the very end.”—Coleridge, p. 212.

[247] Ciconians.—A people of Thrace, near the Hebrus.

[248] They wept.

“Fast by the manger stands the inactive steed,
And, sunk in sorrow, hangs his languid head;
He stands, and careless of his golden grain,
Weeps his associates and his master slain.”

Merrick’s Tryphiodorus, v. 18-24.

“Nothing is heard upon the mountains now,
But pensive herds that for their master low,
Straggling and comfortless about they rove,
Unmindful of their pasture and their love.”

Moschus, id. 3, parodied, ibid.

“To close the pomp, Æthon, the steed of state, Is led, the funeral of his lord to wait. Stripp’d of his trappings, with a sullen pace He walks, and the big tears run rolling down his face.”

Dryden’s Virgil, bk. ii

[249] Some brawny bull.

“Like to a bull, that with impetuous spring
Darts, at the moment when the fatal blow
Hath struck him, but unable to proceed
Plunges on either side.”

—Carey’s Dante: Hell, c. xii.

[250] This is connected with the earlier part of last book, the regular narrative being interrupted by the message of Antilochus and the lamentations of Achilles.

[251] Far in the deep. So Oceanus hears the lamentations of Prometheus, in the play of Æschylus, and comes from the depths of the sea to comfort him.

[252] Opuntia, a city of Locris.

[253] Quintus Calaber, lib. v., has attempted to rival Homer in his description of the shield of the same hero. A few extracts from Mr. Dyce’s version (Select Translations, p. 104, seq.) may here be introduced.

“In the wide circle of the shield were seen Refulgent images of various forms, The work of Vulcan; who had there described The heaven, the ether, and the earth and sea, The winds, the clouds, the moon, the sun, apart In different stations; and you there might view The stars that gem the still-revolving heaven, And, under them, the vast expanse of air, In which, with outstretch’d wings, the long-beak’d bird Winnow’d the gale, as if instinct with life. Around the shield the waves of ocean flow’d, The realms of Tethys, which unnumber’d streams, In azure mazes rolling o’er the earth, Seem’d to augment.”

[254] On seats of stone. “Several of the old northern Sagas represent the old men assembled for the purpose of judging as sitting on great stones, in a circle called the Urtheilsring or gerichtsring”— Grote, ii. p. 100, note. On the independence of the judicial office in The heroic times, see Thirlwall’s Greece, vol. i. p. 166.

[255] Another part, &c.

“And here
Were horrid wars depicted; grimly pale
Were heroes lying with their slaughter’d steeds
Upon the ground incarnadin’d with blood.
Stern stalked Bellona, smear’d with reeking gore,
Through charging ranks; beside her Rout was seen,
And Terror, Discord to the fatal strife
Inciting men, and Furies breathing flames:
Nor absent were the Fates, and the tall shape
Of ghastly Death, round whom did Battles throng,
Their limbs distilling plenteous blood and sweat;
And Gorgons, whose long locks were twisting snakes.
That shot their forky tongues incessant forth.
Such were the horrors of dire war.”

—Dyce’s Calaber.

[256] A field deep furrowed.

“Here was a corn field; reapers in a row,
Each with a sharp-tooth’d sickle in his hand,
Work’d busily, and, as the harvest fell,
Others were ready still to bind the sheaves:
Yoked to a wain that bore the corn away
The steers were moving; sturdy bullocks here
The plough were drawing, and the furrow’d glebe
Was black behind them, while with goading wand
The active youths impell’d them. Here a feast
Was graved: to the shrill pipe and ringing lyre
A band of blooming virgins led the dance.
As if endued with life.”
—Dyce’s Calaber.

[257] Coleridge (Greek Classic Poets, p. 182, seq.) has diligently compared this with the description of the shield of Hercules by Hesiod. He remarks that, “with two or three exceptions, the imagery differs in little more than the names and arrangements; and the difference of arrangement in the Shield of Hercules is altogether for the worse. The natural consecution of the Homeric images needs no exposition: it constitutes in itself one of the beauties of the work. The Hesiodic images are huddled together without connection or congruity: Mars and Pallas are awkwardly introduced among the Centaurs and Lapithae;— but the gap is wide indeed between them and Apollo with the Muses, waking the echoes of Olympus to celestial harmonies; whence however, we are hurried back to Perseus, the Gorgons, and other images of war, over an arm of the sea, in which the sporting dolphins, the fugitive fishes, and the fisherman on the shore with his casting net, are minutely represented. As to the Hesiodic images themselves, the leading remark is, that they catch at beauty by ornament, and at sublimity by exaggeration; and upon the untenable supposition of the genuineness of this poem, there is this curious peculiarity, that, in the description of scenes of rustic peace, the superiority of Homer is decisive—while in those of war and tumult it may be thought, perhaps, that the Hesiodic poet has more than once the advantage.”

[258] “This legend is one of the most pregnant and characteristic in the Grecian Mythology; it explains, according to the religious ideas familiar to the old epic poets, both the distinguishing attributes and the endless toil and endurances of Heracles, the most renowned subjugator of all the semi-divine personages worshipped by the Hellenes,—a being of irresistible force, and especially beloved by Zeus, yet condemned constantly to labour for others and to obey the commands of a worthless and cowardly persecutor. His recompense is reserved to the close of his career, when his afflicting trials are brought to a close: he is then admitted to the godhead, and receives in marriage Hebe.”—Grote, vol. i. p. 128.

[259] Ambrosia.

“The blue-eyed maid,
In ev’ry breast new vigour to infuse.
Brings nectar temper’d with ambrosial dews.”

Merrick’s Tryphiodorus, vi. 249.

[260] “Hell is naked before him, and destruction hath no covering. He stretcheth out the north over the empty place, and hangeth the earth upon nothing. He bindeth up the waters in his thick clouds; and the cloud is not rent under them.” Job xxvi. 6-8.

[261] “Swift from his throne the infernal monarch ran, All pale and trembling, lest the race of man,v Slain by Jove’s wrath, and led by Hermes’ rod, Should fill (a countless throng!) his dark abode.”

Merrick’s Tryphiodorus, vi. 769, sqq.

[262] These words seem to imply the old belief, that the Fates might be delayed, but never wholly set aside.

[263] It was anciently believed that it was dangerous, if not fatal, to behold a deity. See Exod. xxxiii. 20; Judg. xiii. 22.

[264]
“Ere Ilium and the Trojan tow’rs arose,
In humble vales they built their soft abodes.”

Dryden’s Virgil, iii. 150.

[265] Along the level seas. Compare Virgil’s description of Camilla, who

“Outstripp’d the winds in speed upon the plain,
Flew o’er the field, nor hurt the bearded grain:
She swept the seas, and, as she skimm’d along,
Her flying feet unbathed on billows hung.”

Dryden, vii. 1100.

[266] The future father. “Æneas and Antenor stand distinguished from the other Trojans by a dissatisfaction with Priam, and a sympathy with the Greeks, which is by Sophocles and others construed as treacherous collusion,—a suspicion indirectly glanced at, though emphatically repelled, in the Æneas of Virgil.”—Grote, i. p. 427.

[267] Neptune thus recounts his services to Æneas:

“When your Æneas fought, but fought with odds
Of force unequal, and unequal gods:
I spread a cloud before the victor’s sight,
Sustain’d the vanquish’d, and secured his flight—
Even then secured him, when I sought with joy
The vow’d destruction of ungrateful Troy.”

Dryden’s Virgil, v. 1058.

[268] On Polydore. Euripides, Virgil, and others, relate that Polydore was sent into Thrace, to the house of Polymestor, for protection, being the youngest of Priam’s sons, and that he was treacherously murdered by his host for the sake of the treasure sent with him.

[269] “Perhaps the boldest excursion of Homer into this region of poetical fancy is the collision into which, in the twenty-first of the Iliad, he has brought the river god Scamander, first with Achilles, and afterwards with Vulcan, when summoned by Juno to the hero’s aid. The overwhelming fury of the stream finds the natural interpretation in the character of the mountain torrents of Greece and Asia Minor. Their wide, shingly beds are in summer comparatively dry, so as to be easily forded by the foot passenger. But a thunder-shower in the mountains, unobserved perhaps by the traveller on the plain, may suddenly immerse him in the flood of a mighty river. The rescue of Achilles by the fiery arms of Vulcan scarcely admits of the same ready explanation from physical causes. Yet the subsiding of the flood at the critical moment when the hero’s destruction appeared imminent, might, by a slight extension of the figurative parallel, be ascribed to a god symbolic of the influences opposed to all atmospheric moisture.”—Mure, vol. i. p. 480, sq.

[270] Wood has observed, that “the circumstance of a falling tree, which is described as reaching from one of its banks to the other, affords a very just idea of the breadth of the Scamander.”

[271] Ignominious. Drowning, as compared with a death in the field of battle, was considered utterly disgraceful.

[272] Beneath a caldron.

“So, when with crackling flames a caldron fries,
The bubbling waters from the bottom rise.
Above the brims they force their fiery way;
Black vapours climb aloft, and cloud the day.”

Dryden’s Virgil, vii. 644.

[273] “This tale of the temporary servitude of particular gods, by order of Jove, as a punishment for misbehaviour, recurs not unfrequently among the incidents of the Mythical world.”—Grote, vol. i. p. 156.

[274] Not half so dreadful.

“On the other side,
Incensed with indignation, Satan stood
Unterrified, and like a comet burn’d,
That fires the length of Ophiuchus huge
In the arctic sky, and from his horrid hair
Shakes pestilence and war.”

—“Paradise Lost,” xi. 708.

[275] “And thus his own undaunted mind explores.”—“Paradise Lost,” vi. 113.

[276] The example of Nausicaa, in the Odyssey, proves that the duties of the laundry were not thought derogatory, even from the dignity of a princess, in the heroic times.

[277] Hesper shines with keener light.

“Fairest of stars, last in the train of night,
If better thou belong not to the dawn.”

“Paradise Lost,” v. 166.

[278] Such was his fate. After chasing the Trojans into the town, he was slain by an arrow from the quiver of Paris, directed under the unerring auspices of Apollo. The greatest efforts were made by the Trojans to possess themselves of the body, which was however rescued and borne off to the Grecian camp by the valour of Ajax and Ulysses. Thetis stole away the body, just as the Greeks were about to burn it with funeral honours, and conveyed it away to a renewed life of immortality in the isle of Leuke in the Euxine.

[279] Astyanax, i.e. the city-king or guardian. It is amusing that Plato, who often finds fault with Homer without reason, should have copied this twaddling etymology into his Cratylus.

[280] This book has been closely imitated by Virgil in his fifth book, but it is almost useless to attempt a selection of passages for comparison.

[281] Thrice in order led. This was a frequent rite at funerals. The Romans had the same custom, which they called decursio. Plutarch states that Alexander, in after times, renewed these same honours to the memory of Achilles himself.

[282] And swore. Literally, and called Orcus, the god of oaths, to witness. See Buttmann, Lexilog, p. 436.

[283]
“O, long expected by thy friends! from whence
Art thou so late return’d for our defence?
Do we behold thee, wearied as we are
With length of labours, and with, toils of war?
After so many funerals of thy own,
Art thou restored to thy declining town?
But say, what wounds are these? what new disgrace
Deforms the manly features of thy face?”

Dryden, xi. 369.

[284] Like a thin smoke. Virgil, Georg. iv. 72.

“In vain I reach my feeble hands to join
In sweet embraces—ah! no longer thine!
She said, and from his eyes the fleeting fair
Retired, like subtle smoke dissolved in air.”

Dryden.

[285] So Milton:—

“So eagerly the fiend O’er bog, o’er steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way, And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies.”

“Paradise Lost,” ii. 948.

[286] “An ancient forest, for the work design’d (The shady covert of the savage kind). The Trojans found: the sounding axe is placed: Firs, pines, and pitch-trees, and the tow’ring pride Of forest ashes, feel the fatal stroke, And piercing wedges cleave the stubborn oak. High trunks of trees, fell’d from the steepy crown Of the bare mountains, roll with ruin down.”

Dryden’s Virgil, vi. 261.

[287] He vowed. This was a very ancient custom.

[288] The height of the tomb or pile was a great proof of the dignity of the deceased, and the honour in which he was held.

[289] On the prevalence of this cruel custom amongst the northern nations, see Mallet, p. 213.

[290] And calls the spirit. Such was the custom anciently, even at the Roman funerals.

“Hail, O ye holy manes! hail again,
Paternal ashes, now revived in vain.”

Dryden’s Virgil, v. 106.

[291] Virgil, by making the boaster vanquished, has drawn a better moral from this episode than Homer. The following lines deserve comparison:—

“The haughty Dares in the lists appears: Walking he strides, his head erected bears: His nervous arms the weighty gauntlet wield, And loud applauses echo through the field. * * * * Such Dares was, and such he strode along, And drew the wonder of the gazing throng His brawny breast and ample chest he shows; His lifted arms around his head he throws, And deals in whistling air his empty blows. His match is sought, but, through the trembling band, No one dares answer to the proud demand. Presuming of his force, with sparkling eyes, Already he devours the promised prize. * * * * If none my matchless valour dares oppose, How long shall Dares wait his dastard foes?”

Dryden’s Virgil, v. 486, seq.

[292]
“The gauntlet-fight thus ended, from the shore
His faithful friends unhappy Dares bore:
His mouth and nostrils pour’d a purple flood,
And pounded teeth came rushing with his blood.”

Dryden’s Virgil, v. 623.

[293] “Troilus is only once named in the Iliad; he was mentioned also in the Cypriad but his youth, beauty, and untimely end made him an object of great interest with the subsequent poets.”—Grote, i, p. 399.

[294] Milton has rivalled this passage describing the descent of Gabriel, “Paradise Lost,” bk. v. 266, seq.

“Down thither prone in flight He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing, Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan Winnows the buxom air. * * * * * * * * At once on th’ eastern cliff of Paradise He lights, and to his proper shape returns A seraph wing’d. * * * * Like Maia’s son he stood, And shook his plumes, that heavenly fragrance fill’d The circuit wide.”

Virgil, Æn. iv. 350:—

“Hermes obeys; with golden pinions binds His flying feet, and mounts the western winds: And whether o’er the seas or earth he flies, With rapid force they bear him down the skies But first he grasps within his awful hand The mark of sovereign power, his magic wand; With this he draws the ghost from hollow graves; With this he drives them from the Stygian waves: * * * * Thus arm’d, the god begins his airy race,v And drives the racking clouds along the liquid space.”

Dryden.

[295] In reference to the whole scene that follows, the remarks of
Coleridge are well worth reading:—
“By a close study of life, and by a true and natural mode of
expressing everything, Homer was enabled to venture upon the most
peculiar and difficult situations, and to extricate himself from
them with the completest success. The whole scene between Achilles
and Priam, when the latter comes to the Greek camp for the purpose
of redeeming the body of Hector, is at once the most profoundly
skilful, and yet the simplest and most affecting passage in the
Iliad. Quinctilian has taken notice of the following speech of
Priam, the rhetorical artifice of which is so transcendent, that if
genius did not often, especially in oratory, unconsciously fulfil
the most subtle precepts of criticism, we might be induced, on this
account alone, to consider the last book of the Iliad as what is
called spurious, in other words, of later date than the rest of the
poem. Observe the exquisite taste of Priam in occupying the mind of
Achilles, from the outset, with the image of his father; in
gradually introducing the parallel of his own situation; and,
lastly, mentioning Hector’s name when he perceives that the hero is
softened, and then only in such a manner as to flatter the pride of
the conqueror. The ego d’eleeinoteros per, and the apusato aecha
geronta, are not exactly like the tone of the earlier parts of the
Iliad. They are almost too fine and pathetic. The whole passage
defies translation, for there is that about the Greek which has no
name, but which is of so fine and ethereal a subtlety that it can
only be felt in the original, and is lost in an attempt to
transfuse it into another language.”—Coleridge, p. 195.

[296] “Achilles’ ferocious treatment of the corpse of Hector cannot but offend as referred to the modern standard of humanity. The heroic age, however, must be judged by its own moral laws. Retributive vengeance on the dead, as well as the living, was a duty inculcated by the religion of those barbarous times which not only taught that evil inflicted on the author of evil was a solace to the injured man; but made the welfare of the soul after death dependent on the fate of the body from which it had separated. Hence a denial of the rites essential to the soul’s admission into the more favoured regions of the lower world was a cruel punishment to the wanderer on the dreary shores of the infernal river. The complaint of the ghost of Patroclus to Achilles, of but a brief postponement of his own obsequies, shows how efficacious their refusal to the remains of his destroyer must have been in satiating the thirst of revenge, which, even after death, was supposed to torment the dwellers in Hades. Hence before yielding up the body of Hector to Priam, Achilles asks pardon of Patroclus for even this partial cession of his just rights of retribution.”—Mure, vol. i. 289.

[297] Such was the fate of Astyanax, when Troy was taken.

“Here, from the tow’r by stern Ulysses thrown,
Andromache bewail’d her infant son.”

Merrick’s Tryphiodorus, v. 675.

[298] The following observations of Coleridge furnish a most gallant
and interesting view of Helen’s character—
“Few things are more interesting than to observe how the same hand
that has given us the fury and inconsistency of Achilles, gives us
also the consummate elegance and tenderness of Helen. She is
through the Iliad a genuine lady, graceful in motion and speech,
noble in her associations, full of remorse for a fault for which
higher powers seem responsible, yet grateful and affectionate
towards those with whom that fault had committed her. I have always
thought the following speech in which Helen laments Hector, and
hints at her own invidious and unprotected situation in Troy, as
almost the sweetest passage in the poem. It is another striking
instance of that refinement of feeling and softness of tone which
so generally distinguish the last book of the Iliad from the
rest.”—Classic Poets, p. 198, seq.

[299] “And here we part with Achilles at the moment best calculated to exalt and purify our impression of his character. We had accompanied him through the effervescence, undulations, and final subsidence of his stormy passions. We now leave him in repose and under the full influence of the more amiable affections, while our admiration of his great qualities is chastened by the reflection that, within a few short days the mighty being in whom they were united was himself to be suddenly cut off in the full vigour of their exercise. The frequent and touching allusions, interspersed throughout the Iliad, to the speedy termination of its hero’s course, and the moral on the vanity of human life which they indicate, are among the finest evidences of the spirit of ethic unity by which the whole framework of the poem is united.”—Mure, vol. i. p 201.

[300] Cowper says,—“I cannot take my leave of this noble poem without expressing how much I am struck with the plain conclusion of it. It is like the exit of a great man out of company, whom he has entertained magnificently; neither pompous nor familiar; not contemptuous, yet without much ceremony.” Coleridge, p. 227, considers the termination of “Paradise Lost” somewhat similar.