WILLIAM COWPER. Dublin, 1792. Third ed., London, 1809. Edited by OF TIZ, with commentary. London, 1843.

ENGLISH BLANK VERSE.

Muse, make the man thy theme, for shrewdness famed
And genius versatile, who far and wide

A Wander'r, after Illium overthrown,
Discover'd various cities, and the mind
And manners learn'd of men, in lands remote.
He num'rous woes, on Ocean toss'd, endur'd,
Anxious to save himself, and to conduct
His followers to their homes; yet all his care
Preserv'd them not, they perish'd self-destroy'd
By their own fault; infatuate! who devoured
The oxen of the all-o'erseeing sun,

And, punish'd for that crime, return'd no more.
Daughter divine of Jove, these things record,
As it may please thee, even in our ears.

SIR CHARLES DU CANE. Edinburgh, 1880.

I-XII. TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSE.

Muse of that hero versatile indite to me the song,
Doomed, when he sacred Troy had sacked, to wander far and long,
Who saw the towns of many men, much knowleege did obtain
Anent their ways, and with much woe was heart wrung on the main,
Seeking his own life to preserve ; his friend's return to gain.
E'en so he rescued not his friends, though eagerly he strove,
For them their own infatuate deeds to direful ending drove.
Fools, who the sun god's sacred beeves dared madly to devour,
Doomed by his anger n'er to see of glad return the hour.
Sing, goddess, child of mighty Jove, of these events, I pray,
And from what starting-point thou wilt begin with me the lay.
GEORGE WILLIAM EDGINTON. London, 1869.

BLANK VERSE.

Dedicated to Edward, Earl of Derby.
Sing, Muse, of that deep man, who wander'd much,
When he had raz'd the walls of sacred Troy,
And many towns saw, many customs learnt,
And many griefs endur'd upon the sea ;
Anxious to save his comrades and himself :
But them he sav'd not, though desiring it:
But through their rash deeds perish'd of that band
Those foolish men, who ate Apollo's kine:
That god depriv'd them of return's glad day.
Of these men, goddess, tell us too in part.

ELIJAH FENTON. London. 1715.20.

(First, fourth, nineteenth and twentieth Books of Pope's Odyssey. -Allibone I, 586.)

The man, for wisdom's various arts renown'd,
Long exercis'd in woes, oh muse! resound;
Who, when his arms had wrought the destin'd fall
Of sacred Troy, and raz'd her heaven-built wall,
Wand'ring from clime to clime, observant stray'd,
Their manners noted, and their states survey'd.
On stormy seas unnumber'd toils he bore,
Safe with his friends to gain his natal shore :
Vain toils! their impious folly dar'd to prey
On herds devoted to the God of day;
The God vindictive doom'd them never more
(Ah men unbless'd!) to touch that natal shore.
Oh snatch some portion of these acts from fate,
Celestial muse! and to our world relate.

THE DEATH OF THE DOG ARGUS (XAII, 300-327).

There Argus lay, with vermin vext.

Then he saw Odysseus near,

He wagged the tail, and crouched the ear,
Yet for old age he could not move
Toward the master of his love.
Odysseus, hiding, wiped the tear,

And asked Eumæus of his cheer.

THOMAS HOBbes of MalmsBURY. London, 1686. Third ed.
("The Voyage of Ulysses," Books IX, X, XI. XII, was first
published in 1674)

Tell me, O Muse, th' Adventures of the Man,
That having sack'd the sacred Town of Troy,
Wandred so long at Sea; what course he ran
By winds and tempest driven on his way:
That saw the Cities and the fashions knew
Of many men, but suffer'd grievous pain
To save his own life and bring home his crew.
They lost themselves by their own insolence,
Feeding like fools on the Sun's sacred kine,

Which did the splendid Deity incense.
To their dire fate. Begin, O Muse divine.

GEORGE HOWLAND. New York, 1891.

METRICAL TRANSLATION.

'Tell me, O Muse, of the man of many resources, who many
Ills was made to endure, when he Troy's sacred city had wasted;
Many the people whose cities he saw, and learned of their customs,
Many also the sorrows he suffered at sea in his spirit,

Striving to save his own life and secure the return of his comrades
But not thus his comrades he saved, however he wished it,
For by their own presumptuous deeds they foolishly perished:
Madmen they, who devoured the sun god, Hyperion's oxen,
And in revenge he took from them their day of returning.
Of these things, thou goddess, daughter of Jove, tell us also.
J. W. MACKAIL. London, 1896.

(Sixth Book of the Odyessy.)

ODYSSEUS IN PHAEACIA.

So slept he there, with toil and slumber spent,
Weary Odysseus. But Athena went

To the Phaeacian people's land and town,
Who dwelt of old beside the turbulent

Cyclops, where the upland lawn lies spread
In Hypereia, and were hard bestead
Before their overmastering might; till thence
Divine Nausithoüs drew them forth and led,

And set in Scheria, far of the rout

Of merchant-venturers, and walled about

A town, and built houses and temples there,
And ploughlands to the people parceled out.

(Published also in "The Bibleot," Vol. III, No. 11, 1897.)

GEORGE MUSGRAVE. London, 1869. Second edition.

ENGLISH BLANK VERSE.

Of that sagacious chief, in many a clime

A wanderer, when his victorious might

Had laid Troy's holy city in the dust,

Inform me, Muse, and wake the song of him
Who upon many a city of mankind

His gaze had bent, and nation's manner learn'd.
Grief upon grief encounter'd he, when, borne

On ocean waves, his life he carried off
A prize from perils rescued, and would fain
Have led his comrades in the war ;

But not to him, not to his anxious zeal
Was giv'n their rescue: destin'd as they were
In their mad arrogance to perish; fools!
Who for their food the oxen of the Sun
That in the Empyrean walks devour'd :
And therefore did his intredict the day
Of their return for evermore deny.

O thou, the goddess daughter of great Jove,
Deign, only, wheresoe'er thy song begins,
That from its strain we may thy knowledge share.

WILLIAM MAGINN. London, 1838.

THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS (XIX, 386-507).

A caldron bright the old woman bore,
To wash the stranger's feet;

Of water cold she poured in store
Then, to temper the bath, she fill'd it o'er
With a stream of boiling heat

By the fire Odysseus took his place;
But he quickly turned him round

In the darksome shadow to hide his face,
For he thought that his nurse's hand would trace
The scar of an ancient wound.

DR. WILLIAM MAGINN has translated the following:

I The Bath of Odysseus, Book xix, 386 407.
II The Song of the Trojan Horse, vIII, 477-544.
III The Return of the Chiefs from Troy, III, 66-200.
IV The Cloak, XIV, 462-533,

V The Dog Argus, XVII, 290.327.

VI The Funeral of Achilles, XXIV, 11-97.

VII The Introduction of Penelope, 1, 319-365.

VIII The First Appearance of Penelope, xxIII, 289 343.

The Prophecy of Theoclymenus the Seer, XX, 345-374.

X The Story of the Swineherd, xv, 389-438.

XI

XII

The Beaten Beggarman, XVII, 1-116.

The First Appearance of Helen, IV, 121-232.
(J-XII. These are ballads.)

ROSCOE MONGAM. London.

LITERALLY TRANSLATED.

O Muse! inspire me to tell of the man, skilled in sxpedients, who wandered very much after he had brought to destruction the sacred city of Troy, and saw the cities of many men, and become acquainted with their dispositions. And he, indeed, on the deep, endured in his mind many sufferings, whilst endeav oring to secure his own life and the return of his companions; but not even thus, although anxious, did he save his compan ions for they perished by their own infatuation; foolish [men that they were], who did eat up the Sun who journeys above; but he deprived them of their return [the day of return]. Of these events, arising from whatever cause, O goddess! daughter of Jove, inform us also.

WILLIAM MORRIS. London, 1887.

DONE INTO ENGLISH VERSE.

Tell me, O Muse, of the Shifty, the man who wandered afar,
After the Holy Burg, Troy town, he had wasted with war;
He saw the towns of menfolk, and the mind of men did he learn;
As he warded his life in the world, and his fellow-farers' return,
Many a grief of heart on the deep-sea flood he bore,
Nor yet might he save his fellows, for all that he longed for it sore.
They died of their own soul's folly, for witless as they were
They ate up the beasts of the Sun, the Rider of the air,
And he took away from them all their dear returning day ;
O goddess, O daughter of Zeus, from whencesoever ye may,
Gather the tale, and tell it, yea even to us at the last !
T. S. NORGATE. London, 1863.

REPRODUCED IN DRAMATIC BLANK VERSE

The travelled Man of many a turn, driven far,

Far wandering, when he had sacked Troy's sacred Town;
Tell me, O Muse, his tale; how too he conned

The manners of mankind, and visited

Full many a City, and how on the deep he suffered
Many a heart pang, striving to secure

His own and comrades' lives and safe return.
Yet them he rescued not, howe'er desirous;
For by their own blind folly they all perished;
Fools that they were! to eat the Sun-god's herds :
So Hyperion, he who Walks above,

Bereft them of the day of their home return !
Whereof, from whatsoever source, O goddess,
Daughter of Zeus, vouchsafe to tell e'en Us!