The Iliads of Homer. Homer

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      TO THE SACRED FOUNTAIN OF PRINCES, SOLE EMPRESS OF BEAUTY AND VIRTUE, ANNE, QUEEN OF ENGLAND, ETC.

      With whatsoever honour we adorn

       Your royal issue, we must gratulate you,

       Imperial Sovereign; who of you is born

       Is you, one tree make both the bole and bow.

       If it be honour then to join you both

       To such a pow'rful work as shall defend

       Both from foul death and age's ugly moth,

       This is an honour that shall never end.

       They know not virtue then, that know not what

       The virtue of defending virtue is;

       It comprehends the guard of all your State,

       And joins your greatness to as great a bliss.

       Shield virtue and advance her then, great Queen,

       And make this book your glass to make it seen.

       Your Majesty's in all subjection most

       humbly consecrate,

       GEO. CHAPMAN.

      TO THE READER

      Lest with foul hands you touch these holy rites,

       And with prejudicacies too profane,

       Pass Homer in your other poets' slights,

       Wash here. In this porch to his num'rous fane,

       Hear ancient oracles speak, and tell you whom

       You have to censure. First then Silius hear,

       Who thrice was consul in renowned Rome,

       Whose verse, saith Martial, nothing shall out-wear.

      SILIUS ITALICUS, LIB. XIII. 777

      He, in Elysium having cast his eye

       Upon the figure of a youth, whose hair,

       With purple ribands braided curiously,

       Hung on his shoulders wond'rous bright and fair,

       Said: "Virgin, what is he whose heav'nly face

       Shines past all others, as the morn the night;

       Whom many marvelling souls, from place to place,

       Pursue and haunt with sounds of such delight;

       Whose count'nance (were't not in the Stygian shade)

       Would make me, questionless, believe he were

       A very God?" The learned virgin made

       This answer: "If thou shouldst believe it here,

       Thou shouldst not err. He well deserv'd to be

       Esteem'd a God; nor held his so-much breast

       A little presence of the Deity,

       His verse compris'd earth, seas, stars, souls at rest;

       In song the Muses he did equalize,

       In honour Phœbus. He was only soul,

       Saw all things spher'd in nature, without eyes,

       And rais'd your Troy up to the starry pole."

       Glad Scipio, viewing well this prince of ghosts,

       Said: "O if Fates would give this poet leave

       To sing the acts done by the Roman hosts,

       How much beyond would future times receive

       The same facts made by any other known!

       O blest Æacides, to have the grace

       That out of such a mouth thou shouldst be shown

       To wond'ring nations, as enrich'd the race

       Of all times future with what he did know!

       Thy virtue with his verse shall ever grow."

      Now hear an Angel sing our poet's fame,

       Whom fate, for his divine song, gave that name.

      ANGELUS POLITIANUS, IN NUTRICIA

      More living than in old Demodocus,

       Fame glories to wax young in Homer's verse.

       And as when bright Hyperion holds to us

       His golden torch, we see the stars disperse,

       And ev'ry way fly heav'n, the pallid moon

       Ev'n almost vanishing before his sight;

       So, with the dazzling beams of Homer's sun,

       All other ancient poets lose their light.

       Whom when Apollo heard, out of his star,

       Singing the godlike act of honour'd men,

       And equalling the actual rage of war,

       With only the divine strains of his pen,

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