mighty valorous spirits

Of heroes, and consigned to dogs as prey their cumulate corses,

And to all birds; until the will of Jove

was consummated

Forth from the time when first contend

ing, firstly disunited

Were Atreus son, the king of men, and

heaven-born Achilleus."

If, as Porson gave it as his opinion, a prose translation of the "Iliad" would require ten years to execute, an English poetic rendering in the original verse by a skilled poet and metricist, would be an exploit demanding a lifetime to execute. Much, therefore, as we could wish to see a translation of Homer in which both the antique spirit and form of the poem would be reproduced, we can hardly hope for such, and, upon the whole, accord with the opinion expressed by Lord Derby in his preface-"that if justice is ever to be done to the easy flow and majestic simplicity of the grand old poet, it can only be in the heroic blank verse."

In this, the latest and in several respects the finest rendering of Homer in English verse which has appeared, Lord Derby has more than realized the object with which it was undertaken, that of superadding to a literal version something of the spirit of the original; and considering that with the exception of the first book the remainder of the work was executed within the last two years, in the intervals of publie Life, it must, cousidering its high merits, be regarded as a remarkable achievement.

Perhaps the distinctive characteristic of Lord Derby's translation of Homer is the evenness of power

with which the work is executed. It

evinces no sign of a desire to elaborate particular passages, cramming one portion and starving another, but reflects the fire, vigour, naturalness, and plainness cogate with the original; for which reason it appears to us to bear a closer resemblance to the “Iliad than any other in our language. It is, indeed, by far ti e most literal translation in verse which has appeared; and ifin particular passages not so poeticany elaborated as in others, this circumstance, in connex

ion with the spirited mat ner in which 24, constitutes one of its

author, the heroic blank verse in which it is written has become a most flexible representative medium, and is so far original that it displays no trace of being modelled on that of Milton or Cowper, and rather resembles that of some of the Elizabethan dramatists in its general spontaneity and ease, conditioned in parts, of course, to the necessity of adhering closely to lineal and structural literality. The heroic speeches are rendered with colloquial force and flow, many of the descriptive battlepieces with singular animation and energy, and the similes with a degree of superior finish, as in Homer. Did space permit, it would be an agree. able duty to extract many passages, illustrative of the excellence and general merits of a work which promises to supersede all its precedents in the estimation of the Eigi sh reading public; among them several of the battle pieces, such as the combat of the ships in the fifteenth, in which the Trojans are victorious, and the sublime contest of men and mingled gods in the twentieth, in which the Greeks triumph, together with many of the speeches, similes, and descriptions of action, person, and locally. Take, however, the concluding portion of the interview between Achiles and Priam, in the twentieth book, when the latter comes to the Grecian camp to ransom the body of Hector from his victor a characteristic passage, the finest in the "Ilad":

Alone, and to the presence of the man Whose hand hath slain so many of thy

sons,

Many and brave? an iron heart is thine! But sit thou on this seat; and in our hearts,

Thy native land, since thou hast spar'd my life,

And bidd'st me still behold the light of Heav'n.'

To whom Achilles thus with stern regard:

suppress;

For woful lamentation nought avails. Such is the thread the Gods for mortals spin,

To live in woe, while they from cares are free.

Two coffers lie beside the door of Jove, With gifts for man: one good, the other ill;

To whom from each the Lord of lightning gives

Him sometimes evil, sometimes good befalls;

To whom the ill alone, him foul disgrace And grinding mis'ry o'er the earth pur

sue:

By God and man alike despis'd he roams. Thus from his birth the Gods to Peleus

gave

Excellent gifts; with wealth and substance bless'd

Above his fellows; o'er the Myrmidons He rul'd with sov'reign sway; and Heaven bestow'd

On him, a mortal, an immortal bride. Yet this of ill was mingled in his lot, That in his house no rising race he saw f future Kings; one only son he had, One doom'd to early death; nor is it mine To tend my father's age; but far from home

Thee and thy sons in Troy I vex with

war.

Much have we heard too of thy former wealth;

Above what Lesbos northward, Macar's seat,

Contains, and Upper Phrygia, and the shores

Of boundless Hellespont, 'tis said that thou

In wealth and number of thy sons wast bless'd.

But since on thee this curse the Gods have brought,

Still round thy city war and slaughter

rage.

Bear up, nor thus with grief incessant

mourn;

Vain is thy sorrow for thy gallant son; Thou canst not raise him, and mayst suffer more.'

To whom in answer Priam, godlike sire: Tell me not yet, illustrious chief, to sit, While Hector lies, uncar'd for, in the tent; But let me quickly go, that with mine

eyes

I may behold my son; and thou accept
The ample treasures which we tender thee:
Mayst thou enjoy them, and in safety

reach

Despatch'd by Jove, my Goddess-mother

came,

The daughter of the aged Ocean-God:
And thee too, Priam, well I know, some
God

(I cannot err) hath guided to our ships.
No mortal, though in vent'rous youth,
would dare

Our camp to enter: nor could hope to pass
Unnotic'd by the watch, nor easily
Remove the pond'rous bar that guards our
doors.

But stir not up my anger in my grief;
Lest, suppliant though thou be, within my

tent

I brook thee not, and Jove's command transgress.'

He said; the old man trembled, and
obeyed;

Then to the doorway, with a lion's spring,
Achilles rush'd; not unaccompanied;
With him Automedon and Alcimus,
His two attendants, of his followers all,
Next to the lost Patroclus, best esteem'd;
They from the yoke the mules and horses
loos'd;

Then led the herald of the old man in,
And bade him sit; and from the polish'd
wain

The costly ransom took of Hector's head. Two robes they left, and one well-woven vest,

To clothe the corpse, and send with honour home.

Then to the female slaves he gave command

To wash the body, and anoint with oil, Apart, that Priam might not see his son; Lest his grieved heart its passion unrestrain'd

Should utter, and Achilles, rous'd to wrath, His suppliant slay, and Jove's command transgress.

When they had wash'd the body, and with oil

Anointed, and around it wrapp'd the robe
And vest, Achilles lifted up the dead
With his own hands, and laid him on the

couch;

Which to the polished wain his followers rais'd.

Then groaning, on his friend by name he call'd:

Forgive, Patroclus! be not wroth with me, If in the realm of darkness thou shouldst hear

That godlike Hector to his father's arms, For no mean ransom, I restore; whereof A fitting share for thee I set aside.""

son waistcoat, canary-coloured shorts, and blue stockings, and flaxen wig, was driving his plump horses, and guiding his plough, undiscouraged, as when last he saw him.

Boots and Mrs. Jones came out. Sir Jekyl was too eager to wait to get down; so from the saddle he accosted his buxom hostess, in his usual affable style. The baronet was not accustomed to be crossed and thwarted as much as, I have been told, men with less money sometimes are; and he showed his mortification in his face when he learned that the two gentlemen had left very early that morning.

"This morning! Why you said yesterday they would not go till evening. Hang it, I wish you could tell it right; and what the d-1 do you mean by Strangers? Call him Strangways, can't you. It's odd people can't

say names."

He must have been very much vexed to speak so sharply; and he saw, perhaps, how much he had forgotten himself in the frightened look which good Mrs. Jones turned upon him.

"I don't mean you, my good little soul. It's their fault; and where are they gone to? I wanted to ask them both over to Marlowe. Have you a notion ?"

"They took our horses as far as the 'Bell and Horns,' at Slowton." She called shrilly to Boots, "They're not stoppin' at the Bell and Horns,' sure. Come here, and tell Sir Jekyl Marlowe about Mr. Strangers."

"You said last night they were going to Awkworth ;" and Sir Jekyl chuckled scornfully, for he was vexed.

"They changed their minds, sir." "Well, we'll say so. You're a wonderful fascinating sex. Egad, if you could only carry anything right in your heads for ten minutes, you'd be too charming." And at this point Boots emerged, and Sir Jekyl continued, addressing him

"Well, where are the gentlemen who left this morning?" asked he "They'll be at the Bell Horns, sir."

"Just seven miles. The Sterndale road, isn't it?" "Yes, sir."

And that was all Boots had to tell. "Will ye please to come in, sir ?" inquired Mrs. Jones.

"No, my good creature. I havn't time. The old gentleman-what's his name?"

"I don't know, sir, please. He calls the young gentleman Guy, and the young gentleman calls him sir." "And both the same name?" "We calls 'em both Strangers, please,

sir."

"I know. Servants, had they?" "Yes, sir, please. But they sent 'em on." "Rich-don't want for money, I suppose. Eh?"

"Oh! plenty money, sir."

66

And the servants called the men Strangways, I suppose, Eh?" "Yes, Sir Jekyl, please; and so the letters came."

"You never happened to hear any other name?"

"No, Sir Jekyl."

"Think."

Mrs. Jones did think, but could recall nothing.

"Nothing with a D ?"
"D, sir! What, sir?"

"No matter what," said the baronet. "No name beginning with D --eh !"

"No, sir. You don't think they're going by a false name ?" inquired the lady, curiously.

"What the devil puts that in your head? Take care of the law; you must not talk that way, you foolish little rogue."

"I did not know, sir," timidly answered Mrs. Jones, who saw in Sir Jekyl, the Parliament-man, DeputyLieutenant, and Grand Juror, a great oracle of the law.

"I only wanted to know whether you had happened to hear the name/ of the elder of two gentlemen, and could recoll what letter it begins with."

"Do they return here ?" “I'm not, sir."

"Well, I believe there's nothing else," and the baronet looked up reflectively, as if he expected to find a memoran tum scribbled on the blue sky, leving with his hand on the hick of his horse. "No, nothing. You won't forget my message, that's all. Good bye, my dear. '

And touching the tips of his gloves to his lips, with a smile and a ned he cantered down the Sternda'e road.

He pulled up at the “Beli and Horns," in the little town of Sowton, but was disappoint. The entire party, servants and ail, had taken the tran two hours before, at the station three mes away.

Now Sir Jekyl was blooded, and the spit of the chase stirred within Lim. So he rode down in his jackloots, and pu ed up his steaming Lorse by the station, and he went in and mide irque, y.

A make him is received even at me of tha se cesn. opolitan ra ¡ying pon's win his own courty with becoming awe. The station master was awiuky e urte us, and the suba tern officials awiany active and ng, and the resources of the establishment were at once pla ed at has su me disposal. Untappily two branch lines converge at tuis point, causing the usual bustle, and there Was consequently a conflict and confusion in the evidence, so that Nr Jekyl, who angled and chatted agway am dst aa the reverential zal atreunded him, ed arlive at that gedalsve, but leaned to the view to at the party had acthy gone to Awkworth, oly ly rail, instead of ty road.

Sir Jekvi got on his horse and Waxed lam totou.h the town, unertain wat to do next. Thcheck had cod him; his horse had his log trot me stul. It woud not do to follow to Awkworth: to x *ཏི in, after a four and twenty times rude, bespattered, ke a couner, mercy to invite trese ghella, rung to, who had hardy hid is note of aviati na sa ehors. It would be max.12 too much of them with a vel, valče

As he found lin. «c'f once more ring under the tests of Marlowe, the early aut pray at ex tong mitesdy mdg 1, 8, denyi caja anced ne

of those qualms and sinkings of the heart, which overcome us with a vague anticipation of evil.

The point of the road which he had now gained, commands a view of the old hail of Marlowe, with that projecting addition, and its wide bow window, every pane of which was now flaming in the sunset light, which indicated the green chamber.

The green chamber! Just at that moment the glare of its broad window flashed with a melancholy and vengeful light upon his brain, busied with painful retrospects and hirtassing conjecture.

Old Gwynn going away! It was an omen. Marlowe without old Gwynn. Troy without its palladitaan. Old Gwynn going with semeti ing like a denunciation on her lips! That stupid old woman at Wardlock, too, who really knew nothing about it, undertaking also to prophesy! Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings! There was no sepse in it-- scarcely articulation. Stil it was the croak of the raven the screech of the owl. He looked across the gentle slopa at the angle of the inauspicious rocna. Why should old General Lennox te placed with in the und allowed precincts of that chamber 1 The age of old Gwynn as she gabbled her arm protest on the preceding my Et, Ioa before him like a ghost. What busiDss was it of hers, and how cudd size divine his motives? Still if the.e Was anything wrong, did not this Veement warning make the matter

Wol-e.

An old man he felt himself on a sudden that evening, and for the fir t te. There was some f Lure of the electric fire, and a subslutlice of the *V-tem. His enterprise was gone, Why should he take ga it, if such, it were, on his soul for vanity and vexat on of spirit! If gut it we e, Wos it not of a kind inexcuby cold blooded and long headed. O qGwynn, he did not like to lose you on those TCTILA - just, tox, as those unknown actos were hovering at the wing, and about to step upon the stage, this old m n and young, who, instinctively he fet, were mehtating mischief in t him. Mischief what # Such, jærhips, as might shatter the structure of his greatness, and strew its penas des in the dust. Pelips al tr ́s

om was but the depression of a