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governable, that Jupiter & forced to restrain it , duced it to one character and colouring, gone with his thunder. It is usual for orators to reserve over the several parts, and given to each their the strongest arguments for the conclusion, that finishing. they may leave thein fresh upon the reader's I must not conclude without declaring our mutual memory; Homer uses the same conduct: he satisfaction in Mr. Pope's acceptance of our best represents his hero in all his terrour, he shows endeavours, which have contributed at least to his him to be irresistible, and by this method leaves more speedy execution of this great undertaking, us fully possessed with a noble idea of his mag. If ever my name be numbered with the learned, I nanimity.
must ascribe it to his friendship, in transmitting it It has been already observed, that the end of to posterity by a participation in his labours. May the action of the Odyssey is the re-establishment of the sense I have of this, and other instances of Ulysses in full peace and tranquillity; this is not that friendship, be known as long as his name will effected, till the defeat of the suitors' friends : cause mine to last: and may 1 to this end be and, therefore, if the poet had concluded before permitted, at the conclusion of a work, which is this event, the Odyssey had been imperfect. It a kind of monument of his partiality to me, to was necessary that the reader should not only be place the following lines, as an inscription memoinformed of the return of Ulysses to his country, rial of it: and the punishment of the suitors, but of his reestablishment, by a peaceful possession of his regal
ON THE ODYSSEY.. authority; which is not executed, till these last disor
Let vulgar souls triumphal arches raise, ders raised by Eupithes are settled by the victory of Or speaking marbles, to record their praise ; Ulysses; and, therefore, this is the natural con
And picture (to the voice of Fame unknown) clusion of the action. This book opens with the morning, and ends be-Mere mortals! subject to death's total sway,
The mimic feature on the breathing stone: fore night, so that the whole story of the Odyssey Reptiles of Earth, and beings of a day! is comprehended in the compass of one and forty
"Tis thine, on every heart to grave thy praise, days. 'Monsieur Dacier upon Aristotle remarks, A monument which worth alone can raise : that an epic poeni ought not to be too long: we
Sure to survive, when time shall whelm in dust should be able to retain all the several parts The arch, the marble, and the mimic bust : of it at once in our memory : if we lose the Nor, till the volumes of th’expanded sky idea of the beginning when we come to the Blaze in one flame, shalt thou and Homer die: concluson, it is an argument that it is of too
Then sink together, in the world's last fires, large an extent, and its length destroys its beau
What Heaven created, and what Heaven inspires. ty. What seems to favour this decision is, that
If aught on Earth, when once this breath is filed, the Æneid, Iliad, and Odyssey, are conform With human transport touch the mighty dead : able to this rule of Aristotle; and every one of Shakespeare, rejoice! his hand thy page refines ; those poems may be read in the compass of a Now every scene with native brightness shines ; single day.
Just to thy fame, he gives thy genuine thought; i have now gone through the collections upon So Tully publish'd what Lucretius wrote; the Odyssey, and laid together what occurred most Prun'd by his care thy laurels loftier grow, remarkable in this excellent poem. I am not so
And bloom afresh'on thy immortal brow. vain as to think these remarks free from faults,
Thus when thy draughts,
Raphael! time por so disingenuous as not to confess them : all
[invades, writers have occasion for indulgence, and those and the bold figure from the canvas fades, most who least acknowledge it. I have sometimes
A rival hand recalls from every part used Madam Dacier as she has done others, in Some latent grace, and equals art with art: transcribing some of her remarks without particu- Transported we survey the dubious strife, larizing them; but, indeed, it was through in
While each fair image starts again to life. advertency only that her name is sometimes omitted at the bottom of the note. If my performance Jarr'd grating discord, all-extinct his fire!
How long, untun'd, had Homer's sacred lyre has merit, either in these, or in my part of the This you beheld ; and, taught by Heaven to sing, translation, (namely, in the sixth, eleventh, and call the loud music from the sounding string. eighteenth books) it is but just to attribute it to Now wak'd from slumbers of three thousand years, the judgment and care of Mr. Pope, by whose Once more Achilles in dread pomp appears, band every sheet was corrected. His other, and Towers o'er the field of death; as fierce he turns, much more able assistant, was Mr. Fenton, in the Keen flash his arms, and all the hero burns ; fourth and the twentieth books. It was our parti. With martial stalk, and more than mortal might, cular request, that our several parts might not be He strides along, and meets the gous in ti made known to the world till the end of it: and if Then the pale 'i'itans, chain'd on burning floors, they have had the good fortune not to be dis- Start at the din that rends th’infernal shores ; tinguished from his, we ought to be the less vain, Tremble the towers of Heaven, Earth rocks her since the resemblance proceeds much less from our
coasts, diligence and study to copy his manner, than from his own daily revisal and correction. The most
And gloomy Pluto shakes with all his ghosts, experienced painters will not wonder at this, who Here rolls a torrent, there meanders play ;
To every theme responds thy various lay; very well know, that no critic can pronounce Sonorous as the storm thy numbers rise, even of the pieces of Raphael or 'Titian, which have, or which bave not, been worked upon by Or softer than a yielding virgin's sigh,
Toss the wild waves, and thunder in the skies; those of their school; when the same master's
The gentle breezes breathe away and die. hand bas directed the execution of the wbole, rea
Thus, like the radiant god who sheds the day, nection many have been misled tó régard it as You paint the vale, or gild the azure way; a continuation or second part, and thence to exo And, while with every theme the verse complies, pect a parity of character inconsistent with its Sink without groveling, without rashness rise. nature.
Proceed, great bard! awake th' harmonious It is no wonder that the common reader should Be ours all Homer! still Ulysses sing. (string. fall into this mistake, when so great a critic as How long that hero by unskilful hands,
Longinus scems not wholly free from it; although Stripp'd of his robe, a beggar trod our lands: what be has said has been generally understood to Such as he wander'd o'er his native coast,
import a severer censure of the Odyssey than it Shrunk by the wand, and all the warrior lost? really does, if we consider the occasion on which O'er his smooth skin a bark of wrinkles spread; it is introduced, and the circumstances to which it Old age disgrac'd the honours of his head :
is confined. Nor longer in his heavy eye-ball shin'd
“ The Odyssey” (says he) “ is an instance, The glance divine, forth-beaming from the mind, how natural it is to a great genius, when it begins But you, like Pallas, every limb infold
to grow old and decline, to delight itself in narraWith royal robes, and bid him shine in gold; tions and fables. For that Homer composed the Touch'd by your hand, his manly frame improves Odyssey after the Iliad, many proofs may be With grace divine, and like a god he moves. given, &c. From hence, in my judgment, it pro
Even I, the meanest of the Muses' train, ceeds, that as the Iliad was written while his spirit Inflam'd by thee, attempt a nobler strain ; was in its greatest vigour, the whole structure of Adventurous waken the Mæonian lyre,
that work is dramatic and full of action; whereas Tun'd by your hand, and sing as you inspire: the greater part of the Odyssey is employed in So, arm’d by great Achilles for the fight,
narration, which is the taste of old age: so that Patroclus conquer'd in Achilles' right:
in this latter piece we may compare him to the Like their's, our friendship! and I boast my name setting Sun, which has still the same greatness, To thine united-For thy FRIENDSHIP's fame. but not the same ardour, or force. He speaks not
This labour past, of heavenly subjects sing, in the same strain: we see no more that sublime While hovering angels listen on the wing,
of the Iliad, which marches on with a constant To hear from Earth, such heart-felt raptures rise, pace, without ever being stopped, or retarded: As, when they sing, suspended hold the skies : there appears no more that hurry, and that strong Or, nobly rising in fair virtue's cause,
tide of motions and passions, pouring one after From thy own life transcribe th' unerring laws: another: there is no more the same fury, or the Teach a bad world beneath thy sway to bend ; same volubility of diction, so suitable to action, To verse like thine fierce savages attend,
and all along drawing in such innumerable images And men more fierce: when Orpheus tunes the lay, of nature. But Homer, like the ocean, is always Ev'n fiends relenting hear their rage away. great, even when he ebbs and retires ; even when
W. BROOME he is lowest, and loses himself most in narrations
and incredible fictions: as instances of this, we cannot forget the description of tempests, the ad
ventures of Ulysses with the Cyclops, and niany POSTSCRIPT.
others. But, though all this be age, it is the age
of Homer-And it may be said for the credit of BY MR. POPE.
these fictions, that they are beautiful dreams, or, I cannot dismiss this work without a few obser
if you will, the dreams of Jupiter himself. vations on the character and style of it. Whoever spoke of the Odyssey only to show, that the reads the Odyssey with an eye to the Iliad, ex. and warmth for the pathetic, for the most part
greatest poets, when their genius wants strength pecting to find it of the same character, or of employ themselves in painting the manners. This the same sort of spirit, will be grievously deceived, Homer has done in characterising the suitors, and and err against the first principle of criticism, describing their way of life : which is properly a which is, to consider the nature of the piece, and branch of comedy, whose peculiar business is to the intent of its author. The Odyssey is a moral and political work, instructive to all degrees of represent the manners of men.” men, and filled with images, examples, and pre- Longinus is writing: that, and not the nature of
We must first observe, it is the sublime of which cepts of civil and domestic life. Howser is here 'a Homer's poem, is his subject. After having highly person,
extolled the fire and sublimity of the Iliad, he justly Qui didicit, patriæ quid debeat, & quid observes the Odyssey to have less of those qualities, amicis,
[hospes : and to turn more on the side of moral, and refleca Quo sit amore parens, quo frater amandus, &tions on human life. Nor is it his business here Qui quid sit pulchrum, quid turpe, quid utile, to determine, whether the elevated spirit of the quid non,
one, or the just moral of the other, be the greater Plenius & melius Chrysippo & Crantore dicit. excellence in itself. The Odyssey is the reverse of the Iliad, in moral, speaking, cannot well be meant of the general
Secondly, that fire and fury, of which he is subject, manner, and style; to which it has no spirit and inspiration which is to run through a sort of relation, but as the story happens to follow whole epic poem, but of that particular warmth in order of time, and as some of the same persons and impetuosity necessary in some parts, to image are actors in it. Yet from this incidental con.
or represent actions or passions, of haste, tumult,
and violence. It is on occasion of citing some Odyssey, Lib. XVI.
such particular passages in Homer, that Longinus breaks into this reflection; which seems to determine the moral. The conduct, turn, and disposition of his meaning chiefly to that sense.
the fable is also what the critics allow to be the Upon the whole, he affirms the Odyssey to have better model for epic writers to follow: acless sublimity and fire than the Iliad; but he does cordingly we find much more of the cast of this not say it wants the sublime, or wants fire. He poem than of the other in the Eneid, and (what affirms it to be narrative, but not that the narration next to that is perhaps the greatest example) in is defective. He affirms it to ahound in fictions, the Telemachus. In the manners, it is no way innot that those fictions are ill invented, or ill exe- ferior: Longinus is so far from finding any defect cuted. He affirms it to be nice and particular in in these, that he rather taxes Homer with painting painting the manners, but not that those manners them too minutely. As to the narrations, although are ill painted. If Homer has fully in these points they are more numerous as the occasions are more accomplished his own design, and done all that frequent, yet they carry no more the marks of the nature of his poem demanded or allowed, it old age, and are neither more prolix, nor moro 'still remains perfect in its kind, and as much a circumstantial, than the conversations and dialogues masterpiece as the Iliad.
of the Iliad. Not to mention the length of those The amount of the passage is this; that in his of Phønix in the ninth book, and of Nestor in the own particular taste, and with respect to the sub- eleventh (which may be thought in compliance to Time, Longinus preferred the Iliad: and because their characters), those of Glaucus in the sixth, of the Odyssey was less active and lofty, he judged it Æneas in the twentieth, and some others, must be the work of the old age of Homer.
allowed to exceed any in the whole Odyssey. And If this opinion be true, it will only prove, that that the propriety of style, and the numbers, in Homer's age might determine him in the choice the narrations of each are equal, will appear to any of his subject, not that it affected him in the exe- who compare them. cution of it; and that which would be a very To form a right judgment, whether the genins of wrong instance to prove the decay of his imagina-Homer had suffered any decay; we must consider, tion, is a very good one to evince the strength of in both his poems, such parts as are of a similiar his judgment. Por had he (as Madam Dacier ob- nature, and will bear comparison. And it is serves) composed the Odyssey in his youth and certain we shall find in each the same vivacity and the Iliad in his age, both must in reason have been fecundity of invention, the same life and strength exactly the same as they now stand. To blame of imaging and colouring, the particular descripHomer for his choice of such a subject, as did not tions as highly painted, the figures as bold, the admit the same incidents and the same pomp, of metaphors as animated, and the numbers as harstyle as his former, is to take offence at too much monious, and as various. variety, and to imagine, that when a man has The Odyssey is a perpetual source of poetry: written one good thing, he must ever after only copy the stream is not the less full, for being gentle ; himself.
though it is true (when we speak only with regard The Battle of Constantine, and the School of to the sublime) that a river, foaming and thunderAthens, are both pieces of Raphael: shall we cen-ing in cataracts from rocks and precipices, is what sure the School of Athens as faulty, because it has more strikes, amazes, and fills the mind, than not the fury and fire of the other ? or shall we say, the same body of water, flowing afterwards that Raphael was grown grave and old, because through peaceful vales and agreeable scenes of he chose to represent the manners of old men and pasturage. philosophers? There is all the silence, tranquility, The Odyssey (as I have before said) ought to be and composure in the one, and all the warmth, considered according to its own nature and design, hurry, and tumult in the other, which the subject not with an eye to the Iliad. To censure Homer, of either required : both of them had been im- because it is unlike what it was never meant to perfect, if they had not been as they are. And let resemble, is as if a gardener, who had purposely the poet or painter be young or old, who designs cultivated two beautiful trees of contrary natures, and performs in this manner, it proves him to as a specimen of his skill in the several kinds, have made the piece at a time of life when he should be blamed for not bringing them into was master not only of his art, but of his dis-pairs; when in root, stem, leaf, and flower, each cretion.
was so entirely different, that one must have Aristotle makes no such distinction between the been spoiled in the endeavour to match the two poems: be constantly cites them with equal other. praise, and draws the rules and examples of epic Longinus, who saw this poem was “partly of writing equally from both. But it is rather to the the nature of comedy," ought not, for that very Odyssey that Horace gives the preference, in the reason, to have considered it with a view to the
Epistle to Lollius, and in the Art of Poetry. It is Iliad. How little any such resemblance was the remarkable how opposite his opinion is to that of intention of Homer, may appear from hence, Longinus: and that the particolars he chooses to that, althrough the character of Ulysses was there extol, are those very fictions, and pictures of the already drawn, yet here he purposely turns to manders, which the other seems least to approve. another side of it, and shows him not in that full Those fables and manners are of the very essence of light of glory, but in the shade of common life, with the work: but even without that regard, the fables a mixture of such qualities as are requisite to all themselves have both more invention and more the lowest accidents of it, struggling with mis. instruction, and the manners more moral and ex- fortunes, and on a level with the meanest of manample, than those of the Iliad.
kind. As for the other persons, none of them are In some points (and those the most essential to above what we call the higher comedy : Calypso, the epic poem) the Odyssey is confessed to excel though a goddess, is a character of intrigue; the tha lliąd; and principally in the great end of it, (suitors yet more approaching to it; the Phæaciam are of the same east; the Cyclops, Melanthius, or thoughts, is the true sublime of Don Quixote. and Irus, descend even to droll characters; and How far unfit it is for epic poetry, appears in its the scenes that appear throughout are generally being the perfection of the mock epic. It is so far of the comic kind; banqnets, revels, sports, loves, from being the sublime of tragedy, that it is the and the pursuit of a woman.
cause of all bombast ; when poets, instead of beFrom the nature of the poem, we shall form ing (as they imagine) constantly lofty, only prean idea of the style. The diction is to follow the serve throughout a painful equality of fustian : images, and to take its colour from the complec- that continued swell of language (wbich runs in: tion of the thoughts. Accordingly the Odyssey discriminately even through their lowest characis not always clothed in the majesty of verse ters, and rattles like some mightiness of meaning proper to tragedy, but sometimes descends into in the most indifferent subjects) is of a piece with the plainer narrative, and sometimes even to that that perpetual elevation of tone which the players familiar dialogue essential to comedy. However, have learned from it, and which is not speaking, where it cannot support a sublimity, it always but vociferating. preserves a dignity, or at least a propriety.
There is still more reason for a variation of style There is a real beauty in an easy, pure, perspi- in epic poetry than in tragic, to distinguish be. cuous description, even of a low action. There tween that language of the gods proper to the are numerous instances of tbis both in Homer and Muse who sings, and is inspired : and that of men Virgil : and, perhaps, those natural passages are who are introduced speaking only according to nanot the least pleasing of their works. It is often ture. Purther, there ought to be a difference of the same in history, where the representations of style observed in the speeches of human persons, common, or even domestic things, in clear, plain, and those of deities ; and again, in those which and natural words, are frequently found to make may be called set harangues, or orations, and the liveliest impression on the reader.
those which are only conversation or dialogue. The question is, how far a poet, in pursuing Homer has more of the latter than any other poet: the description or image of an action, can attach what Virgil does by two or three words of narrahimself to little circumstances, without vulgarity tion, Homer still performs by speeches: not only or trilling? what particulars are proper, and en- replies, but even rejoinders are frequent in him, liven the image; or what are impertinent, and a practice almost unknown to Virgil. This renders clog it? In this matter painting is to be consulted,' his poems more animated, but less grave and maand the whole regard had to those circumstances jestic, and consequently necessitates the frequent which contribute to form a full, and yet not a use of a lower style. The writers of Tragedy lie confused, idea of a thing.
under the same necessity, if they would copy naEpithets are of vast service to this effect, and ture; whereas that painted and poetical diction, the right use of these is often the only expedient which they perpetually use, would be improper to render the narration poetical.
even in orations designed to move with all the arts The great point of judgment is to distinguish of Rhetoric: this is plain from the practice of when to speak simply, and when figuratively : Demosthenes and Cicero; and Virgil in those of but whenever the poet is obliged by the nature of Drances and Turnus gives an eminent example, his subject to descend to the lower manner of writ- how far removed the style of them ought to be ing, an elevated style would be affected, and there- from such an excess of figures and ornaments ; fore ridiculous; and the more he was forced upon which indeed sits only that language of the gods figures and metaphors to avoid that lowness, the we have been speaking of, or that of a Muse under *more the image would be broken, and consequently inspiration. obscure.
To read through a whole work in this strain, is One may add, that the use of the grand style like travelling all along the ridge of a hill ; which on little subjects is not only ludicrous, but a sort is not half so agreeable as sometimes gradually of transgression against the rules of proportion to rise, and sometimes gently to descend, as the and mechanics: it is using a vast force to lift a way leads, and as the end of the journey difeather.
rects. I believe, now I am upon this head, it will be Indeed the true reason that so few poets have fonnd a just observation, that the low actions of imitated Homer in these lower parts, has been the life cannot be put into a figurative style, without extreme difficulty of preserving that mixture of being ridiculous, but things natural can. Meta- ease and dignity essential to them. For it is as phors raise the latter into dignity, as we see in hard for an epic poem to stoop to the narrative the Georgics : but throw the former into ridicule, with success, as for a prince to descend to be as in the Lutrin. I think this may very well be familiar, without diminution to his greatness. accounted for: laughter implies censure; inani- The sublime style is more easily counterfeited mate and irrational beings are not objects of cen- than the natural; something that passes for it, sure; therefore they may be elevated as nzuch as you or sounds like it, is common in all false writers : please, and no ridicule follow: but when rational but nature, purity, perspicuity, and simplicity, beings are represented above their real character, never walk in the clouds ; they are obvious to all it becomes ridiculous in art, because it is vicious capacities; and where they are not evident, they in morality. The bees in Virgil, were they rational do not exist. beings, would be ridiculous by having their ac- The most plain narration not only admits of tious and manners represented on a level with these, and of harmony, (which are all the qualities creatures so superior as men; since it would im- of style) but it requires every one of them to ply folly or pride, which are the proper objects of render it pleasing. On the contrary,
pretends to a share of the sublime, may pass, The use of pompous expressson for low actions | notwithstanding any defeats in the rest ; nay, sometimes without any of them, and gain the and a heap of rubbish another. The imitators of admiration of all ordinary readers.
Milton, like most other imitators, are not copies Homer, in his lowest narrations or speeches, is but caricaturas of their original; they are a hunever easy, flowing, copious, clear and harmonious. dred times more obsolete and cramp than he, and He shows not less invention, in assembling the equally so in all places: whereas it should have humbler, than the greater, thoughts and images ; been observed of Milton, that he is not lavish of nor less judgment, in proportioning the style and his exotic words and phrases every where alike, the versification to these, than to the other. Let but employs tbem much more where the subject it be remembered, that the same genius that soared | is marvellous, vast, and strange, as in the scenes the highest, and from whom the greatest models of of Heaven, Hell, Chaos, &c. than where it is the sublime are divided, was also he who stooped turned to the natural and agreeable, as in the the lowest, and gave to the simple narrative its pictures of Paradise, the loves of our first parents, utmost perfection. Which of these was the harder entertainments of angels, and the like. In general, task to Homer himself I cannot pretend to de- this unusual style better serves to awaken our termine; but to his translator I can affirm (how- ideas in the descriptions and in the imaging and ever unequal all his imitations must be) that of the picturesque parts, than it agrees with the lower latter has been more difficult.
sort of narrations, the character of which is simWhoever expects here the same pomp of verse, plicity and purity. Milton has several of the and the same ornaments of diction, as in the Iliad, latter, where we find not an antiquated, affected, he will, and he ought to be, disappointed. Were or uncouth word, for some hundred lines together ; the original otherwise, it had been an offence as in his fifth book, the latter part of the eighth, against nature; and were the translation so, it the former of the tenth and eleventh books, and were an offence against Homer, which is the same in the narration of Michael in the twelfth. I thing.
wonder indeed that he, who ventured contrary to It must be allowed that there is a majesty and the practice of all other epic poets, to imitate harmony in the Greek language, which greatly Homer's lownesses in the narrative, should not also contribute to elevate and support the narration have copied his plainness and perspicuity in the But I must also observe, that this is an advantage dramatic parts: since in his speeches (where cleargrown upon the language since Homer's time : for ness above all is necessary) there is frequently such things are removed from vulgarity by being out of transposition and forced construction, that the use; and if the words we could find in any present very sense is not to be discovered without a second language were equally sonorous or musical in or third reading: and in this, certainly he ought themselves, they would still appear less poetical to be no example. and uncommon than those of a dead one, from this To preserve the true character of Homer's style only circuinstance, of being in every man's mouth. in the present translation, great pains have been I may add to this another disadvantage to a tran- taken to be easy and natural. The chief merit I slator, from a different cause : Homer seems to can pretend to is, not to have been carried into have taken upon him the character of an historian, a more plausible and figurative manner of writing, antiquary, divine, and professor of arts and sciences, which would better have pleased all readers, but as well as a poet. In one or other of these charac- the judicious ones. My errours had been fewer, ters he descends into many particularities, which had each of those gentlemen who joined with me as a poet only perhaps he would have avoided. All shown as much of the severity of a friend to me, these ought to be preserved by a faithful translator, as I did to them, in a strict animadversion and who in some measure takes the place of Homer; correction. What assistance I received from them, and all that can be expected from him is to make was made known in general to the public in the them as poetical as the subject will bear. Many original proposals for this work, and the particu. arts therefore are requisite to supply these dis- | lars are specified at the conclusion of it; to which advantages, in order to dignify and solemnize these I must add (to be punctually just) some part of plainer parts, which hardly admit of any poetical the tenth and fifteenth books. The reader will ornaments.
now be too good a judge, how much the greater Some use has been made to this end of the style part of it, and consequently of its faults, is chargeof Milton. A just and moderate mixture of old able upon me alone. But this I can with integrity words may have an effect like the working of old affirm, that I have bestowed as much time and abbey stones into a building, which I have soine- pains upon the whole, as were consistent with the times seen, to give a kind of venerable air, and indispensable duties and cares of life, and with yet not destroy the neatness, elegance, and that wretched state of health which God has been equality, requisite to a new work; I mean, with pleased to make my portion. At least, it is a out rendering it too unfamiliar, or remote from easure to to reflect, that I have introduced the present purity of writing, or from that ease into our language this other work of the greatest and smootbness which onght always to accompany and most ancient of poets, with some dignity; and narration or dialogue. In reading a style judici- I hope, with as little disadvantage as the lliad. ously antiquated, one finds a pleasure not unlike And if, after the unmerited success of that translathat of travelling on an old Roman way: but tion, any one will wonder why I would enterprise then the road must be as good, as the way is the Odyssey; I think it sufficient to say, that ancient; the style must be such in which we may Homer himself did the same, or the world would evenly proceed, without being put to short stops never have seen it. by sudden abruptnesses, or puzzled by frequent I designed to have ended this postscript here: turnings and transpositions. No man delights in but since I am now taking my leave of Homer, furrows and stumbling-blocks : and let our love to and of all controversy relating to him, I beg leave antiquity be ever so great, a' fine ruia is one thing, 1 to be indulged if I make use of this last oppor.