fifty verses in a day. The notes, compiled with the assistance of his mercenaries, could not be supposed to require more time than the text.

According to this circulation, the progress of Pope may seem to have been slow; but the distance is commonly very great between actual performances and speculative possibility. It is natural to suppose, that as much as has been done to-day may be done to-morrow; but on the morrow, some difficulty emerges, or some external impediment obstructs. Indolence, interruption, business, and pleasure, all take their turns of retardation; and every long work is lengthened by a thousand causes that can, and ten thousand that cannot, be recounted. Perhaps no extensive and multifarious performance was ever effected within the term originally fixed in the undertaker's mind. He that runs against time has an antagonist not subject to casualties.

The encouragement given to this translation, though report seems to have over-rated it, was such as the world has not often seen. The subscribers were five hundred and seventy-five. The copies for which subscriptions were given were six hundred and fifty-four; and only six hundred and sixty were printed. For these copies Pope had nothing to pay; he therefore received, including the two hundred pounds a volume, five thousand three hundred and twenty pounds four shillings without deduction, as the books were supplied by Lintot.

By the success of his subscription Pope was relieved from those pecuniary distresses with which, notwithstanding his popularity, he had hitherto struggled. Lord Oxford had often lamented his disqualification for public employment, but never proposed a pension. While the translation of " Homer" was in its progress, Mr. Craggs, then secretary of state, offered to procure him a pension, which, at least during his ministry,

might be enjoyed with secrecy. This was not accepted by Pope, who told him, however, that if he should be pressed with want of money he would send to him for occasional supplies. Craggs was not long in power, and was never solicited for money by Pope, who disdained to beg what he did not want.

With the product of this subscription, which he had too much discretion to squander, he secured his future life from want, by considerable annuities. The estate of the duke of Buckingham was found to have been charged with five hundred pounds a year, payable to Pope, which doubtless his translation enabled him to purchase.

It cannot be unwelcome to literary curiosity that I deduce thus minutely the history of the English "Iliad." It is certainly the noblest version of poetry which the world has ever seen; and its publication must therefore be considered as one of the great events in the annals of learning.

To those who have skill to estimate the excellence and difficulty of this great work, it must be very desira-ble to know how it was performed, and by what gradations it advanced to correctness. Of such an intellectual process the knowledge has very rarely been attainable; but happily there remains the original copy of the "Iliad," which being obtained by Bolingbroke as a curiosity, descended from him to Mallet, and is now, by the solicitation of the late Dr. Maty, reposited in the museum.

Between this manuscript, which is written upon accidental fragments of paper, and the printed edition, there must have been an intermediate copy, that was perhaps destroyed as it returned from the press..

From the first copy I have procured a few transcripts, and shall exhibit first the printed lines; then, in a small

er print, those of the manuscripts, with all their variations. Those words in the small print which are given in italics are cancelled in the copy, and the words placed under them adopted in their stead.

The beginning of the first book stands thus:

The wrath of Peleus' son, the direful spring
Of all the Grecian woes, O goddess, sing,
That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reign
The souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain:

The stern Pelides' rage, O goddess, sing,
wrath

Of all the woes of Greece the fatal spring,

Grecian

That strew'd with warriors dead the Phrygian plain,
heroes

And peopled the dark hell with heroes slain;

fill'd the shady hell with chiefs untimely

Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,
Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore,
Since great Achilles and Atrides strove :
Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.

Whose limbs, unburied on the hostile shore,
Devouring dogs and greedy vultures tore,

Since first Atrides and Achilles strove :

Such was the sovereign doom, and such the will of Jove.

Declare, O muse, in what ill-fated hour

Sprung the fierce strife, from what offended power?
Latona's son a dire contagion spread,

And heap'd the camp with mountains of the dead;
The king of men his reverend priest defy'd,
And for the king's offence the people dy'd.

Declare, O goddess, what offended power
Inflam'd their rage, in that ill-omen'd hour;
anger fatal, hapless

Phœbus himself the dire debate procured,

fierce

T'avenge the wrongs his injur'd priest endur'd;
For this the god a dire infection spread,

And heap'd the camp with millions of the dead;
The king of men the sacred sire defy'd,

And for the king's offence the people dy'd.

For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain
His captive daughter from the victor's chain;
Suppliant the venerable father stands,
Appollo's awful ensigns grace his hands;
By these he begs, and, lowly bending down,
Extends the sceptre and the laurel crown.

For Chryses sought by presents to regain

costly gifts to gain

His captive daughter from the victor's chain!
Suppliant the venerable father stands,
Appollo's awful ensigns grac'd his hands.
By these he begs, and, lowly bending down
The golden sceptre and the laurel crown,
Presents the sceptre

For these as ensigns of his god he bare,
The god that sends his golden shafts afar;
Then, low on earth, the venerable man,
Suppliant, before the brother kings began.

-He sued to all, but chief implor'd for grace
The brother kings of Atreus' royal race :
Ye kings and warriors, may your vows be crown'd,
And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground;
May Jove restore you, when your toils are o'er,
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.

To all he sued, but chief implor'd for grace
The brother kings of Atreus' royal race :
Ye sons of Atreus, may your vows be crown'd,
Kings and warriors

Your labours, by the gods be all your labours crown'd,
So may the gods your arms with conquest bless,
And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground;
Till

laid

And crown your labours with deserv'd success ; -
May Jove restore you, when your toils are o'er,
Safe to the pleasures of your native shore.

But, oh! relieve a wretched parent's pain,
And give Chryseis to these arms again;
If mercy fail, yet let my present move,
And dread avenging Phoebus, son of Jove.

But, oh! relieve a hapless parent's pain,
And give my daughter to these arms again;
Receive my gifts; if mercy fails, yet let my present move,
And fear the God that deals his darts around.

avenging Phœbus, son of Jove.

The Greeks, in shouts, their joint assent declare
The priest to reverence and release the fair.
Not so Atrides; he, with kingly pride,
Repuls'd the sacred sire, and thus reply'd.

He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare,
The father said, the gen’rous Greeks relent,
T'accept the ransom, and release the fair ;
Revere the priest, and speak their joint assent;
Not so the tyrant, he, with kingly pride,

Atrides

Repuls'd the sacred sire, and thus reply'd,

[Not so the tyrant.

DRYDEN.]