The
Iliads and Odysses of Homer
Translated by Thomas Hobbes
London 1675
[Sample
from the Opening of the Iliad]
O
GODDESS sing
what woe the discontent
Of
Thetis’ son brought to the Greeks; what souls
Of
heroes down to Erebus it sent,
Leaving
their bodies unto dogs and fowls;
Whilst
the two princes of the army strove,
King
Agamemnon and Achilles stout.
That
so it should be was the will of Jove,
But who was he that made them first fall out?
Apollo;
who incensed by the wrong
To
his priest Chryses by Atrides done, 10
Sent
a great pestilence the Greeks among;
Apace
they died, and remedy was none.
For
Chryses came unto the Argive fleet,
With
treasure great his daughter to redeem;
And
having in his hands the ensigns meet, 15
That
did the priestly dignity beseem,
A
golden sceptre and a crown of bays,
Unto
the princes all made his request;
But
to the two Atrides chiefly prays,
Who
of the Argive army were the best. 20
O
sons of Atreus, may the Gods grant you
A
safe return from Troy with victory;
And
you on me compassion may shew,
Receive
these gifts and set my daughter free;
And
have respect to Jove’s and Leto’s son. 25
To
this the princes all gave their consent,
Except
King Agamemnon. He alone,
And
with sharp language from the fleet him sent;
Old
man, said he, let me not see you here
Now
staying, or returning back again, 30
For
fear the golden sceptre which you bear,
And
chaplet hanging on it, prove but vain.
Your
daughter shall to Argos go far hence,
And
make my bed, and labour at the loom,
And
take heed you no farther me incense, 35
Lest
you return not safely to your home.
Frighted
with this, away the old man went;
And
often as he walked on the sand,
His
prayers to Apollo up he sent.
Hear
me, Apollo, with thy bow in hand, 40
That
honour’d art in Tenedos and Chryse,
And
unto whom Cylla great honour bears,
If
thou accepted hast my sacrifice,
Pay
th’ Argives with thy arrows for my tears.
His
prayer was granted by the deity; 45
Who
with his silver bow and arrows keen,
Descended
from Olympus silently
In
likeness of the sable night unseen.
His
bow and quiver both behind him hang,
The
arrows chink as often as he jogs, 50
And
as he shot the bow was heard to twang,
And
first his arrows flew at mules and dogs.
But
when the plague into the army came,
Perpetual
was the fire of funerals;
And
so nine days continued the same. 55
Review Comment
Hobbes’ translation is, as one might expect, clear, vigorous, and fast paced, with iambic pentameter lines and a fixed rhyme scheme (ABABCDCD). But it is also quite careless about including every detail, as Pope (not the most disinterested critic) observes about Hobbes’ translation style in general: “but for particulars and circumstance he continually lops them, and often omits the most beautiful. . . . He sometimes omits whole similes and sentences. . . .” The translation probably would not attract very much attention if it had been produced by someone less well known. Hobbes, who translated Homer in his eighties, does not seem to have been particularly worried about the reception of his translation: “Why then did I write it? Because I had nothing else to do. Why publish it? Because I thought it might take off my Adversaries from shewing their folly upon my more serious Writings and set them upon my Verses to shew their wisdom” (quoted Young 108).
For
the complete translation, click Online
Library of Liberty link.
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