Αμφι δε κεφαλη νεφος εστεψε δια θεάων
Χρύσεον, εκ δ' αυτού έαις φλογα παμφανόωσαν.
Ως δ' ότε καπνος των εξ άστεος αιθερ' ίκηται
Τηλόθεν εκ νησου, την δηιοι αμφιμάχονται,
Οιτε πανημέριοι στυγερώ κρίνονται Άρη
Αστεος εκ σφετερου ἅμα δ' ηελίω καταδυντι
Πυρσοί τε φλεγεθουσιν επήτριμοι, ύψοσε δ' αυγη
Γίγνεται αισσουσα, περικτιόνεσσιν ιδέσθαι,
Αι κεν πως συν νηυσιν αρης αλκτηρες ἱκωνται·
'Ως απ' Αχιλλήος κεφαλης σελας αιθερ ̓ ἱκανεν.

Στη δ' επι τάφρον των από τείχεος" ουδ' ες Αχαιους
Μισγετο μητρος γαρ πυκινήν ωπιζετ' εφετμην.
Ενθα στας ηυσ' απατερθε δε Παλλας Αθήνη
Φθεγξατ' αταρ Τρώεσσιν εν ασπετον ώρσε κυδοιμον
'Ως δ' ότ αρίζηλη φωνη, ότε τ' ιαχε σαλπιγξ
Αστυ περιπλομένων δηιων ὑπὸ θυμοραιστεων
Ως τοτ' αρίζηλη φωνη γενετ' Αιακίδαο.
Οι δ' ὡς ουν αιον οπα χαλκεον Αιακίδαο,
Πασιν ορίνθη θυμος" αταρ καλλίτριχες ίπποι
Αψ οχέα τροπεον οσσοντο γαρ αλγεα θυμώ.
'Ηνιοχοι δ' εκπληγεν, επει ίδον ακάματον πυρ
Δεινον ὑπερ κεφαλης μεγαθύμου Πηλείωνος
Δαιομενον" το δε δαιε θεα γλαυκώπις Αθήνη.
Τρις μεν ύπερ ταφρου μεγαλ' ιαχε διος Αχιλλευς,
Τρις δε κυκήθησαν Τρωες, κλείτοι τ' επικουροι.
Ενθα δε και τοτ' ολοντο δυωδεκα φωτες αριστοι
Αμφι σφοις οχεεσαν και έγχεσιν.

Iliad, Lib. xviii., v. 203.

But up Achilles rose, the lov'd of heaven;
And Pallas on his mighty shoulders cast
The shield of Jove; and round about his head

She put the glory of a golden mist,

From which there burnt a fiery-flaming light.

And as, when smoke goes heaven-ward from a town,

In some far island which its foes besiege,

Who all day long with dreadful martialness

Have pour'd from their own town; soon as the sun
Has set, thick lifted fires are visible,

Which, rushing upward, make a light in the sky,
And let the neighbors know, who may perhaps
Bring help across the sea; so from the head
Of great Achilles went up an effulgence.

Upon the trench he stood, without the wall,
But mix'd not with the Greeks, for he rever'd

.

His mother's word; and so, thus standing there,

He shouted; and Minerva, to his shout,

Added a dreadful cry; and there arose

Among the Trojans an unspeakable tumult.
And as the clear voice of a trumpet, blown
Against a town by spirit-withering foes,
So sprang the clear voice of acides.

And when they heard the brazen cry, their hearts
All leap'd within them; and the proud-maned horses
Ran with the chariots round, for they foresaw
Calamity; and the charioteers were smitten,
When they beheld the ever-active fire

Upon the dreadful head of the great-minded one
Burning; for bright-eyed Pallas made it burn.
Thrice o'er the trench divine Achilles shouted;
And thrice the Trojans and their great allies
Roil'd back; and twelve of all their noblest men

Then perished, crush'd by their own arms and chariots.

Of course there is no further question about the body of Patroclus. It is drawn out of the press, and received by the awful hero with tears.

The other passage is where Priam, kneeling before Achilles, and imploring him to give up the dead body of Hector, reminds him of his own father; who, whatever (says the poor old king) may be his troubles with his enemies, has the blessing of knowing that his son is still alive, and may daily hope to see him return. Achilles, in accordance with the strength and noble honesty of the passions in those times, weeps aloud himself at this appeal, feeling, says Homer, "desire" for his father in his very "limbs." He joins in grief with the venerable sufferer, and can no longer withstand the look of "his great head and his grey chin." Observe the exquisite introduction of this last word. It paints the touching fact of the chin's being imploringly thrown upward by the kneeling old man, and the very motion of his beard as he speaks.

Ως άρα φωνήσας απέβη προς μακρον Ολυμπον
Ερμειας Πριαμος δ' εξ ίππων αλτο χαμάζε,
Ιδαιον δε κατ' αυθι λιπεν· ὁ δε μιμνεν ερύκων
Ἱππους ἡμιονους τε γερων δ' ιθυς κιεν οικου,
Τη δ' Αχιλευς ίζεσκε, Διι φίλος εν δε μιν αυτον
Ευρ' έταροι δ' απάνευθε καθειατο" τω δε δυ' οιω,

αρα στις

Ήρως Αυτομέδων τε και Αλκιμος, οζος Άρηος,
Ποιπνύον παρεοντε" νεον δ' απεληγεν εδώδης
Εσθων και πίνων, ετι και παρεκειτο τραπεζα.
'Τους δ' ελαθ ̓ εισελθων Πριαμος μέγας, αγχι Ꮄ
Χερσιν Αχιλλήος λαβε γούνατα, και κυσε χειρας
Δεινας, ανδροφόνους, αἱ οἱ πολεας κτάνον υιας.
Ως δ' όταν ανδρ' ατη πυκινη λάβη, όστ' ενι πατρη
Φωτα κατακτείνας, αλλων εξίκετο δήμον,
Ανδρος ες αφνειου, θαμβος δ' εχει εισοροώντας,
Ως Αχιλευς θαμβησεν, ιδων Πρίαμον θεοειδεα
Θαμβησαν δε και αλλοι, ες αλλήλους δε ίδοντο.
Τον και λισσομενος Πριαμος προς μυθον εειπεν

Μνησαι πατρος σειο, θεοις επιεικελ' Αχιλλευ,
Τηλικου, ὥσπερ εγων, ολόω επι γήραος ουδω.
Και μεν που κεινον περιναιεται αμφις εόντες
Τειρουσ', ουδε τις εστιν αρην και λοιγον αμύναι
Αλλ' ήτοι κεινος γε, σεθεν ζώοντος ακούων,
Χαίρει τ' εν θυμώ, επι τ' ελπεται ηματα παντα
Οψεσθαι φιλον ύιον απο Τροιηθεν ιοντα
Αυταρ εγω παναποτμος, επει τεκον διας αριστου
Τροιη εν ευρείη, των δ' ουτινα φημι λελειφθαι.
Πεντηκοντα μοι ησαν, ότ' ηλυθον υιες Αχαιων
Εννεακαιδεκα μεν μοι της εκ νηδύος ησαν,
Τους δ' άλλους μοι ετικτον ενι μεγαροισι γυναίκες.
Των
μεν πολλων θουρος Αρης ύπο γούνατ' έλυσεν
Ως δε μοι οιος την, είρυτο δε αστυ και αυτους,
Τον συ πρώην κτεινας, αμυνομένον περί πάτρης,
Έκτορα του νυν δινεχ ̓ ἱκανω νηας Αχαιών,
Λυσόμενος παρα σειο, φέρω δ' απερεισι' άποινα.
Αλλ' αιδειο θεους, Αχιλευ, αυτόν τ' ελεησον,
Μνησαμενος σου πατρος" εγω δ' ελεεινότερος περ,
Ετλην δ', οι ουπω τις επιχθόνιος βροτος άλλος,
Άνδρος παιδοφόνοιο ποτι στομα χειρ' ορέγεσθαι.

Ως φατο τω Ꮄ αρα πατρος ὑφ ̓ ἱμερον ώρσε γιοιο.
Αψάμενος δ' αρα χειρος, απώσατο ηκα γέροντα.
Τω δε μνησαμένω, δ μεν Έκτορος ανδροφόνοιο,
Κλαι αδινα, προπαροιθε ποδων Αχιληος ελύσθεις
Αυταρ Αχιλλευς κλαιεν ἷον πατέρ', αλλοτε δ' αυτε
Πατροκλον των δε στοναχη κατα δωματ' ορώρει.
Αυταρ έπει ῥα γοοιο τεταρπέτο διος Αχιλλεύς,
Και δι απο πραπίδων ηλθ ̓ ἱμερος ηδ' απο γυιων,
Αυτική απο θρονου ωρτο, γεροντα δε χειρος ανιστή,
Οικτείρων πολιον τε καρη, πολιον τε γενειον.

Iliad, Lib. xxiν., ν. 469.

So saying, Mercury vanished up to heaven:
And Priam then alighted from his chariot,
Leaving Idrus with it, who remain'd

Holding the mules and horses; and the old man
Went straight in-doors, where the belov'd of Jove
Achilles sat, and found him. In the room
Were others, but apart; and two alone,

The hero Automedon, and Alcimus,

A branch of Mars, stood by him. They had been
At meals, and had not yet removed the board.
Great Priam came, without their seeing him,
And kneeling down, he clasp'd Achilles' knees,
And kiss'd those terrible, homicidal hands,
Which had deprived him of so many sons.
And as a man who is press'd heavily
For having slain another, flies away

To foreign lands, and comes into the house
Of some great man, and is beheld with wonder,
So did Achilles wonder to see Priam;
And the rest wonder'd, looking at each other.
But Priam, praying to him, spoke these words:
"God-like Achilles, think of thine own father!
To the same age have we both come, the same
Weak pass; and though the neighboring chiefs may vex
Him also, and his borders find no help,

Yet when he hears that thou art still alive,

He gladdens inwardly, and daily hopes

To see his dear son coming back from Troy.
But I, bereav'd old Priam! I had once
Brave sons in Troy, and now I cannot say
That one is left me. Fifty children had I,

When the Greeks came; nineteen were of one womb;

The rest my women bore me in my house.

The knees of many of these fierce Mars has loosen'd;
And he who had no peer, Troy's prop and theirs,
Him hast thou kill'd now, fighting for his country,
Hector; and for his sake am I come here
To ransom him, bringing a countless ransom.
But thou, Achilles, fear the gods, and think
Of thine own father, and have mercy on me;
For I am much more wretched, and have borne
What never mortal bore, I think, on earth,

To lift unto my lips the hand of him

L

He ceased; and there arose

Sharp longing in Achilles for his father;
And taking Priam by the hand, he gently
Put him away; for both shed tears to think
Of other times; the one, most bitter ones
For Hector, and with wilful wretchedness
Lay right before Achilles: and the other,
For his own father now, and now his friend;

And the whole house might hear them as they moan'd.
But when divine Achilles had refresh'd

His soul with tears, and sharp desire had left
His heart and limbs, he got up from his throne,
And rais'd the old man by the hand, and took
Pity on his grey head and his grey chin.

O lovely and immortal privilege of genius! that can stretch its hand out of the wastes of time, thousands of years back, and touch our eyelids with tears. In these passages there is not a word which a man of the most matter-of-fact understanding might not have written, if he had thought of it. But in poetry, feeling and imagination are necessary to the perception and presentation even of matters of fact. They, and they only, see what is proper to be told, and what to be kept back; what is pertinent, affecting, and essential. Without feeling, there is a want of delicacy and distinction; without imagination, there is no true embodiment. In poets, even good of their kind, but without a genius for narration, the action would have been encumbered or diverted with ingenious mistakes. The over-con. templative would have given us too many remarks; the over. lyrical, a style too much carried away; the over-fanciful, conceits and too many similes; the unimaginative, the facts without the feeling, and not even those. We should have been told nothing of the "grey chin," of the house hearing them as they moaned, or of Achilles gently putting the old man aside; much less of that yearning for his father, which made the hero tremble in every limb. Writers without the greatest passion and power do not feel in this way, nor are capable of expressing the feeling; though there is enough sensibility and imagination all over the world to enable mankind to be moved by it, when the poet strikes his truth into their hearts.

The reverse of imagination is exhibited in pure absence of