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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 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 hurled 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 Tatal spring,

Grecian

That strewed with warriors dead the Phrygian plain,
heroes

And peopled the dark hell with heroes slain;

filled 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 heaped the camp with mountains of the dead;

The King of men his reverend priest defied,
And for the King's offence the people died.

Declare, O Goddess, what offended Power
Enflamed their rage in that ill-omened hour;
. anger fatal, hapless

Phoebus himself the dire debate procured,

fierce

To avenge the wrongs his injured priest endured;
For this the god a dire infection spread,

And heaped the camp with millions of the dead:
The King of men the sacred sire defied,
And for the King's offence the people died.

For Chryses sought with costly gifts to gain
His captive daughter from the victor's chain;
Suppliant the venerable father stands,
Apollo'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,
Apollo's awful ensigns graced 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 implored for grace,
The brother kings of Atreus' royal race;
Ye Rings and warriors, may your vows be crowned,
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 implored for grace

The brother king of Atreus' royal race.

Ye sons of Atreus, may your vows be crowned, kings and warriors

Your labours, by the gods be all your labours crowned; So may the gods your arms with conquest bless,

And Troy's proud walls lie level with the ground;

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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 Chryses to these arms again;
If mercy fail, yet let my present move,
And dread avenging Phœbus, 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 Phoebus, 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,
Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied.

He said, the Greeks their joint assent declare,
The father said, the generous Greeks relent,
To accept the ransom, snd release the fair:
Revere the priest, and speak their joint assent;
Not so the tyrant, he, with kingly pride,

Atrides

Repulsed the sacred sire, and thus replied.
[Not so the tyrant. DRYDEN.]

Of these lines, and of the whole first book, I am told that there was yet a former copy, more varied, and more deformed with interlineations.

The beginning of the second book varies very little from the printed page, and is therefore set down without a parallel. The few differences do not require to be elaborately displayed.

Now pleasing sleep had sealed each mortal eye :
Stretched in their tents the Grecian leaders lie ;
The Immortals slumbered on their thrones above,"
All but the ever-watchful eye of Jove.

To honour Thetis' son he bends his care,
And plunge the Greeks in all the woes of war.
Then bids an empty phantom rise to sight,
And thus commands the vision of the night:

directs

Fly hence, delusive dream, and, light as air,
To Agamemnon's royal tent repair;

Bid him in arms draw forth the embattled train,
March all his legions in the dusty plain.
Now tell the king 'tis given him to destroy
Declare even now

The lofty walls of wide-extended Troy ;

towers

For now no more the gods with fate contend;
At Juno's suit the heavenly factions end.
Destruction hovers o'er yon devoted wall,

hangs

And nodding Iliun. waits the impending fall.

Invocation to the catalogue of ships.

Say, virgins, seated round the throne divine,
All-knowing goddesses! immortal nine!

Since earth's wide regions, heaven's unmeasured height,
And hell's abyss, hide nothing from your sight
(We, wretched mortals! lost in doubts below,
But guess by rumour, and but boast we know),
Oh! say what heroes, fired by thirst of fame,
Or urged by wrongs, to Troy's destruction came !
To count them all demands a thousand tongues,
A throat of brass and adainantine lungs.

Now virgin goddesses, immortal nine!

That round Olympus' heavenly summit shine,
Who see through heaven and earth, and hell profound,
And all things know, and all things can resound!
Relate what armies sought the Trojan land,
What nations followed, and what chiefs command
(For doubtful fame distracts mankind below,
And nothing can we tell, and nothing know),
Without your aid, to count the unnumbered train,
A thousand mouths, a thousand tongues, were vain.

Book V. v. 1.

But Pallas now Tydides' soul inspires,

Fills with her force, and warms with all her fires:
Above the Greeks his deathless fame to raise,
And crown her hero with distinguished praise,
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a iiving ray;
The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies.

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From his broad buckle flashed the living ray ;
High on his helm celestial lightnings play,
His beamy shield emits a living ray;

The goddess with her breath the flame supplies,
Bright as the star whose fires in autumn rise:
Her breath divine thick streaming flames supplies,
Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies;
The unwearied blaze incessant streams supplies,
Like the red star that fires the autumnal skies.

When first he rears his radiant orb to sight,
And bathed in ocean shoots a keener light,
Such glories Pallas on the chief bestowed,
Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flowed;
Onward she drives him, furious to engage,
Where the fight burns, and where the thickest rage

When fresh he rears his radiant orb to sight,
And gilds old ocean with a blaze of light,
Bright as the star that fires the autumnal skies,
Fresh from the deep, and gilds the sea and skies:
Such glories Pallas on her chief bestowed,
Such sparkling rays from his bright armour flowed,
Such from his arms the fierce effulgence flowed;
Onward she drives him headlong to engage,

furious

Where the war bleeds, and where the fiercest rage. fight burns thickest

The sons of Dares first the combat sought.
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault;
In Vulcan's fane the father's days were led,
The sons to toils of glorious battle bred;

There lived a Trojan-Darcs was his name,
The priest of Vulcan, rich, yet void of blame;
The sons of Dares first the combat sought,
A wealthy priest, but rich without a fault.

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