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The Macedonian age, to which most of these statues belonged, commenced with Alexander the Great, and terminated with the absorption of Greek art by the Romans.
Art having, in the two previous periods, reached its culminating point of perfection, as is the law of all development, when a culminating point is reached, a downward tendency and a period of decline begins, for the cycle of development must becompleted and the stages of rise, progress, maturity, decline and decay run through.
No exact date, however, can be assigned to the beginning of the stage of decline; no sharp line of demarcation can be pointed out dividing one stage from the other. The decline was so gradual that there was an inevitable blending of the two. We perceive evident signs of decline in the fourth stage, while, in the fifth, or stage of decline, we sometimes meet some noble works of art partaking of the perfect style of the earlier periods. A period of decline inevitably and invariably follows an age of maturity and perfection. As Mr. Lecky observes, "The sculptor and the painter of the age of Praxiteles precipitated art into sensuality; both of them destroyed its religious character, both of them raised it to high æsthetic perfection, but in both cases that perfection was followed by a speedy decline." Muller remarks, "The creative activity, the real central point of the entire activity of art, which fashions peculiar forms for peculiar ideas, must have flagged in its exertions when the natural circle of ideas among the Greeks had received complete plastic embodiment, or it must have been morbidly driven to abnormal inventions. We find, therefore, that art, during this period, with greater or less degrees of skill in execution, delighted now in fantastical, now in effeminate productions, calculated merely to charm the senses. And even in the better and nobler works of the time there was still on the whole something—not, indeed, very striking to the eye, but which could be felt by the natural sense, something which distinguished them from the earlier works—thestriving after effect." The spirit of imitation marked the later portion of this period of decline. The sculptors of this age, despairing of equaling the productions of the former age, gave themselves up completely to servile imitation. The imitation was naturally inferior to the original, and each succeeding attempt at imitation was but a step lower indegradation of the art. When they ceased to study nature they thought to repair the deterioration of the beauty of form by the finish of the parts, and in a still later period they gave, instead of a grandeur of style, an exaggeration of form. Lastly, being utterly unable to cope with their predecessors in the sculpture of statues, they had recourse to the manufacture of busts and portraits, which they executed in countless numbers. The art reached its lowest ebb, and thus the cycle of the development of Greek sculpture terminated in its last stage—utter decay and degradation.
Roman.—In the very early periods the Romans imitated the Etruscans, for, generally speaking, all the works of the first periods of Rome were executed by Etruscan artists. Their earliest statues of gods were in clay. Etruscan art exercised the greatest influence in Rome, for Rome was adorned with monuments of Etruscan art, in its very infancy; it was a Tuscan called Veturius Mamurius who made the shields (ancilia) of the temple of Numa, and who made, in bronze, the statue of Vertumna, a Tuscan deity, in the suburb of Rome. The Romans owed all their culture to the Etruscans, from whom they learned the arts of architecture, terra-cotta work, and painting; calling in artists of that more tasteful race when anything of that sort was required for the decoration of their simple edifices. The most ancient monuments of Rome thus corresponded with the contemporaneous style of Etruscan art; there is thus a similarity in the figures; the attributes alone can lead one to distinguish them, as these attributes tell if the statue was connected with the creed or modes of belief of Etruria or Rome. There was not, therefore, any Roman style, properly so called; the only distinction to be remarked is that the statues of the early periods, executed by the Romans, are characterized, like the Romans themselves of the same period, by a beard and long hair. At a late period all the architecture, all the sculpture of the public edificesat Rome, were in the Tuscan style, according to the testimony of Pliny.
After the second Punic war, Greek artists took the place of Etruscan artists at Rome; the taking of Syracuse gave the Romans a knowledge of the beautiful works of Greece, and the treasures of art brought from Corinth chiefly contributed to awaken a taste among them, and they soon turned into ridicule their ancient statues in clay; Greek art was gradually transferred to Rome; Greek artists began to abound there, and the history of Roman art was thenceforward confounded with that of the vicissitudes of Greek art. The style of the works of sculpture under the first Emperors may be considered as a continuation and sequel of the development of Greek sculpture. These works, more particularly the portrait statues, which were the prevailing works of this period, exhibit a great deal of force and character, though a want of care is visible in some parts, especially in the hair. The characters of the heads always bear out the descriptions which historians have given of the person they belong to, the Roman head differing essentially from the Greek, in having a more arched forehead, a nose more aquiline, and features altogether of a more decided character. It may be observed, however, as a general remark, that the Roman statues are of a thicker and more robust form, with less ease and grace, more stern, and of a less ideal expression than Greek statues, though equally made by Greek artists. Under Augustus, and the following Roman Emperors, to meet the demand for Greek statues to embellish their houses and villas, several copies and imitations of celebrated Greek works were manufactured by the sculptors of the age. The Apollo Belvidere, the Venus of the Capitol, and several copies of celebrated Greek works, in various Museums, such as the Faun, Cupid, Apollo Sauroctonos, and Venus of Praxiteles, the Discobolos of Myron, and several works of Scopas and Lysippus, are supposed to be of this age.Archæologists are now generally agreed in thinking that the Apollo Belvidere is only a copy of a Roman period of a very fine Greek statue of about the beginning of the third century B.C., and that the original was in bronze. Another copy has been identified in a bronze statuette now in St. Petersburg, known as the Stroganoff Apollo. From this statuette it is found that the Apollo Belvidere held forward in his left hand, not a bow as was thought, but theægis, in the attitude of spreading consternation among an enemy. The production of this statue is generally assigned to the period after the invasion of the Gauls, whom, in 278 B.C., the god drove in alarm from his sanctuary, at Delphi. (A cut of Apollo Belvidere is seen on page 495.)
Of the Faun of Praxiteles there are two copies in the Vatican, but both are inferior to that in the Capitol. A copy of the Cupid of Praxiteles is in the British Museum. Of the Apollo Sauroctonos there are two copies, one in the Vatican, and another in bronze in the Villa Albani. Of the Venus of Cnidos of Praxiteles there are several copies in the Vatican; one in particular, in the Chiaramonte Gallery, No. 112, though very inferior as a work of art, gives the exact pose of the original statue as it appears on the coin of Cnidos. The Venus of the Capitol is a Roman version of the Praxitelean statue; it differs in attitude. Several copies of the Discobolos of Myron are still in existence: one in the British Museum, one in the Vatican, and a third, much finer than either of the others, in the possession of Prince Massimo. A very fine marble copy of the celebrated bronze of Lysippus is in the Vatican. A copy of the Pythian Apollo by Scopas is in the same museum.
The noble statue of Augustus, discovered in 1863, and now in the Vatican, is a grand example of the portrait statues of this period. It is full of life and individuality. The pose is simple and majestic, as befitting the portrait of an Emperor. The bust of the young Augustus in the Vatican for depth of expression,individuality, truth to nature, and delicacy of finish and treatment, is a marvel in portraiture.
Under Tiberius and Claudius a limit was placed to the right of having statues exposed in public; consequently a lesser number of statues were made, and less attention was paid to the perfection of the portrait. However, some excellent works were produced in this period. The style became purer and more refined under Hadrian, for a partial revival of Greek art is attributed to this Emperor. The hair was carefully worked, the eyebrows were raised, the pupils were indicated by a deep cavity—an essential characteristic of this age, rare before this period, and frequently introduced afterwards; the heads required greater strength, without, however, increasing in character. Of the most remarkable productions of the age of Hadrian are the numerous repetitions of the statue of Antinous, an ideal portrait of Hadrian's favorite, exhibiting much artistic perfection. That in the Capitol is remarkable, not only for its exceeding beauty, but also for its correct anatomy. Of the Emperor Hadrian there is a fine portrait statue in the British Museum. Under the Antonines, the decay of the art was still more manifest, displaying a want of simplicity, and an attention in trivial and meretricious accessories. Thus, in the busts, the hair and the beard luxuriate in an exaggerated profusion of curls, the careful expression of features of the countenance being at the same time frequently neglected. This age was remarkable also for its recurrence to the style of a primitive and imperfect art in the reproduction of Egyptian statues.
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Mosaic, opus musivum, is a kind of painting made with minute pieces of colored substances, generally either marble or natural stones, or else glass, more or less opaque, and of every variety of hue which the subject may require, set in very fine cement, and which thus form pictures of different kinds, rivaling in color and hue those painted by the brush.
Early nations knew the art of mosaic, and it is supposed to derive its origin from Asia, where paintings of this kind were composed, in imitation of the beautiful carpets manufactured at all periods in those countries. The Egyptians employed it very probably for different purposes; no traces of it have, however, been found in the temples or palaces the ruins of which remain. There is in the Egyptian collection at Turin a fragment of a mummy case, the paintings of which are executed in mosaic with wonderful precision and truth. The material is enamel, the colors are of different hues, and their variety renders with perfect truth the plumage of birds. It is believed to be the only example of Egyptian mosaic.
The Greeks carried the art of mosaic to the highest perfection, assuming after the time of Alexander an importance which entitled it to be ranked as an independent art. Skillfully managing the hues, and giving to the figures in their compositions an exquisite harmony, they resembled at a slight distance real paintings. Different names were given to the mosaics, according as they were executed in pieces of marble of a certain size; it was thenlithostroton, opus sectile; or in small cubes, in this case it was calledopus tessellatum, orvermiculatum. The name ofasarotonwas given to a mosaic destined to adorn the pavement of a dining hall. It was supposed to represent an unswept hall, on the pavement of which the crumbs and remains of the repast which fell from the table still remained. It was said to be introduced by Sosus of Pergamus, the first mosaic artist of consequence of whom we hear.
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Mosaic was used to adorn the pavements, walls, and ceilings of public and private edifices. The Greeks in general preferred marble to every other material. A bed of mortar was prepared, which served as a base, which was covered with a very fine cement. The artist, having before him the colored design which he was to execute, fixed the colored cubes in the cement, and polished the entire surface when it had hardened, taking care,however, that too great a polish, by its reflection, might not mar the general effect of his work. The great advantage of mosaic is that it resists humidity, and all which could change the colors and the beauty of painting. Painting could not be employed in the pavement of buildings, and mosaics gave them an appearance of great elegance. The mosaic of the Capitol, found in Hadrian's Villa, may give an idea of the perfection which the Greeks attained to in that art. It represents a vase full of water, on the sides of which are four doves, one of which is in the act of drinking. It is supposed by some to be the mosaic of Pergamus mentioned by Pliny. It is entirely composed of cubes of marble, without any admixture of colored glass. Mosaic of this kind may be considered as the most ancient; it was only by degrees that the art of coloring marble, enamel, and glass multiplied the materials suited for mosaics, and rendered theirexecution much more easy. It was then carried to a very high degree of perfection. The mosaic found at Pompeii, which represents three masked figures playing on different instruments, with a child near them, is of the most exquisite workmanship. It is formed of very small pieces of glass, of the most beautiful colors, and of various shades. The hair, the small leaves which ornament the masks, and the eyebrows, are most delicately expressed. What enhances the value of this mosaic is the name of the artist who worked in it—Dioscorides of Samos. Another mosaic found at Pompeii is the beautiful one of Acratus on a Panther. The subjects represented in mosaics are in endless variety, and generally are derived from mythology or heroic myths. Landscapes and ornaments in borders, in frets, in compartments, intermingled with tritons, nereides, centaurs, are to be found on them. The principal subject is in the center, the rest serves as a bordering or framework. In the Greek tessellated pavement found at Halicarnassus, the mosaic is of very fine workmanship, being composed of small cubes of white, black and red marble.
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Another and a still more remarkable mosaic was discovered in the House of the Faun, and is perhaps the most beautiful and magnificent specimen of the art that has yet been found. This mosaic, which is now preserved in the museum at Naples, is about eighteen feet long by nine broad. The subject represents a battle between Greeks and barbarians, the latter apparently of eastern race; but a variety of conjectures have been hazarded as to what battle is actually depicted. Some have seen in it the combat between Patroclus and Sarpedon, and the death of the latter; others have recognized in it the battles of the Granicus, of Arbela, of Platæa, of Marathon, etc. But the opinion most commonly adopted is that of Professor Quaranta, who refers the picture to the battle of Issus. The Grecian leader, supposed to represent Alexander the Great, is drawn with great beauty and vigor. Charging, bareheaded, in the midst ofthe fight, he has transfixed with his lance one of the Persian leaders, whose horse, wounded in the shoulder, had already fallen. The expression of physical agony in the countenance of the wounded man is admirably depicted. Another horse, which an attendant had brought for him, has arrived too late. The death of the Persian general has evidently decided the fortune of the day. In the background, the Persian spears are still directed against the advancing Greeks. But at the sight of the fallen general, another Persian leader in a quadriga, who, from the richness of his dress and accoutrements, the height of his tiara, and his red chlamys, is probably Darius himself, stretches forth his right hand in an attitude of alarm and despair, while the charioteer urges his horses to precipitate flight. Nothing can exceed the vigor with which both men and animals are depicted in this unequaled mosaic. If the Grecian hero really represents Alexander the Great, the mosaic may probably be a copy of a picture by Appelles, the only artist privileged to paint the Macedonian conqueror. It is unfortunate that the work has suffered much damage on the left side, or that which contains the Grecian host. It was, however, in this mutilated state when discovered, and seems to have been under a process of reparation. The border represents a river, apparently the Nile, with a crocodile, hippopotamus, ichneumon, ibises, etc.; whence some have been led to think that the mosaic is a copy of a picture on the same subject known to have been painted by a female Egyptian artist named Helena, and brought to Rome by Vespasian.
Painted floors were first used by the Greeks, who made and colored them with much care, until they were driven out by the mosaic floors calledlithostrota. The most famous workman in this kind was Sosus, who wrought at Pergamus the pavement which is calledasarotus oikos, the unswept hall, made of quarrels or square tesseræ of different colors, in such a way as toresemble the crumbs and scraps that fell from the table, and such-like things as usually are swept away, as if they were still left by negligence upon the pavement. There also is admirably represented a dove drinking, in such a way that the shadow of her head is cast on the water. Other doves are seen sitting on the rim of the vessel preening themselves and basking in the sun. The first paved floors which came into use were those called barbarica and subtegulanea, which were beaten down with rammers, as may be known by the name pavimentum, from pavire, to ram. The pavements called scalpturata were first introduced into Italy in the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, after the beginning of the third Punic war. But ere the Cimbric wars began, such pavements were in common use at Rome, and men took great delight and pleasure therein.
For galleries and terraces open to the sky, they were devised by the Greeks, who, enjoying a warm climate, used to cover their houses with them; but where the rain waters freeze, pavements of this sort are not to be trusted. To make a terrace of this sort, it is necessary to lay two courses of boards, one athwart the other, the ends of which ought to be nailed, that they should not twist nor warp; which done take two parts of new rubbish, and one of tiles stamped to powder; then with other three parts of old rubbish mix two parts of lime, and herewith lay a bed of a foot thickness, taking care to ram it hard together. Over this must be laid a bed of mortar, six fingers thick, and upon this middle couch, large paving-tiles, at least two fingers deep. This sort of pavement is to be made to rise to the center in the proportion of one inch and a-half to ten feet. Being thus laid, it is to be planed and polished diligently with some hard stone; but, above all, regard is to be had that the boarded floor be made of oak. As for such as do start or warp any way, they be thought naught. Moreover, it were better to lay a course of flint or chaff between it and the lime, to the end that the limemay not have so much force to hurt the board underneath it. It were also well to put at the bottom a bed of round pebbles.
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And here we must not forget another kind of these pavements which are called Græcanica, the manner of which is this:Upon a floor well beaten with rammers, is laid a bed of rubbish, or else broken tile-shards, and then upon it a couch of charcoal, well beaten, and driven close together, with sand, and lime, and small cinders, well mixed together, to the thickness of half a foot, well leveled; and this has the appearance of an earthen floor; but, if it be polished with a hard smooth stone, the whole pavement will seem all black. As for those pavements called lithostrota, which are made of divers colored squares or dice, they came into use in Sylla's time, who made one at Præneste, in the temple of Fortune, which pavement remains to be seen at this day.
It may be remarked here, that the Roman villa at Northleigh, in Oxfordshire, examined and described by Mr. Hakewill, abounded with beautiful pavements. The substratum of one of these, which had been broken, was investigated, when it was found that the natural soil had been removed to a depth of near seven feet, and the space filled up with materials which bear a near resemblance to those which Pliny recommends.
A specimen of the coarser sort of mosaic pavement is to be seen in the Townley Gallery, in the British Museum.
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The perfection which the Greeks attained in literature and art is one of the most striking features in the history of the people. Their intellectual activity and their keen appreciation of the beautiful constantly gave birth to new forms of creative genius. There was an uninterrupted progress in the development of the Grecian mind from the earliest dawn of the history of the people to the downfall of their political independence, and each succeeding age saw the production of some of those master works of genius which have been the models and admiration of all subsequent time.
The poets were the popular writers of ancient Greece; prose writers appear no earlier than the sixth century before the Christian era, at which time the first literary prose essay was produced, for which three contemporary authors claim the honor. The Greeks had arrived at a high degree of civilization before they can be said to have possessed a history of their own. Nations far behind them in intellectual development have infinitely excelled them in this respect. The imagination seems to have been entirely dazzled and fascinated with the glories of the heroic ages, and to have taken but little interest in the events which were daily passing around them. Poetry constitutes the chief part of early Greek literature. We give specimens of both Greek poetry and prose. We will not attempt to give specimens of all, but only such as are considered, by common consent, the best.
Seven cities have contested for the honor of the birth-place of Homer. It is now generally agreed that he was born about 950 B.C., in the City of Melesigenes.
It is not a little strange that nothing should be known with certainty of the parentage or of the birth-place, or even of the era of the greatest poet of antiquity, of him who, next to Milton, ranks as the greatest epic poet of the world. In two respects, all the accounts concerning him agree—that he had traveled much, and that he was afflicted with blindness. From the first circumstance, it has been inferred that he was either rich or enjoyed the patronage of the wealthy; but this will not appear necessary when it is considered that, in his time, journeys were usually performed on foot, and that he probably traveled, with a view to his support, as an itinerant musician or reciter. From most of the traditions respecting him, it appears that he was poor, and it is to be feared that necessity, rather than the mere desire of gratifying curiosity, prompted his wanderings. All that has been advanced respecting the occasion of his blindness is mere conjecture. Certain it is, that this misfortune arose from accident or disease, and not from the operation of nature at his birth; for the character of his compositions seems rather to suppose him all eye, than destitute of sight; and if they were even framed during his blindness, they form a glorious proof of the vivid power of the imagination more than supplying the want of the bodily organs, and not merely throwing a variety of its own tints over the objects of nature, but presenting them to the mind in a clearer light than could be shed over them by one whose powers of immediate vision were perfectly free from blemish.
Of the incidents in the life of Homer, almost as little isknown as of his parentage and birth-place. However, the general account is that he was for many years a school-master in Smyrna; that, being visited by one Mentes, the commander of a Leucadian ship, he was induced by him to leave his occupation and travel; that, in company with this captain, he visited the various countries around the shores of the Mediterranean, and at last was left at Ithaca, in consequence of a weakness in his eyes. While in this island, he was entertained by a man of fortune named Mentor, who narrated to him the stories upon which afterwards the Odyssey was founded. On the return of Mentes, he accompanied him to Colophon, where he became totally blind. He then returned to Smyrna, and afterwards removed to Cyme (called also Cuma), in Æolis, where he received great applause in the recitations of his poems, but no pecuniary reward; the people alleging that they could not maintain all the Homeroi, orblind men, and hence he obtained the name ofHomer. Thence he went about from place to place, acquiring much wealth by his recitations, and died at the Island of Ios, one of the Cyclades, where he was buried.
The works attributed to Homer consist of the two epic poems, theIliadand theOdyssey, of twenty-four books each, theBatrachomyomachia, or "Battle of the Frogs and Mice," a humorous, mock-heroic poem, and somewhat of a parody on theIliad; theMargites, a satirical, personal satire, and about thirtyHymns. All of these but the two great epics are now, however, considered as spurious.
But it was left to modern skepticism (which seems to think that to doubt shows a higher order of intellect than to believe on evidence) to maintain the bold position that the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey" were a collection of separate lays by different authors, arranged and put together for the first time during the tyranny and by the order of Pisistratus, at Athens, about 550 B.C. The chief supporters of this theory are the celebratedGerman scholars, Wolf and Heyne, who flourished about the year 1800.
Those who may desire to go into the subject fully will read Wolf's "Prolegomena," and the strictures of his great opponent, G.W. Nitzsch; but a succinct account of the argument may be found in Browne's "Classical Literature," and in the "History of Greek Literature," by Sir Thomas Noon Talfourd.
Even Wolf himself candidly declares that when he reads the "Iliad" he finds such unity of design, such harmony of coloring, and such consistency of character, that he is ready to give up his theories, and to be angry with himself for doubting the common faith in the personality of Homer.
Professor Felton, in his excellent edition of the "Iliad," thus remarks in the preface: "For my part, I prefer to consider it, as we have received it from ancient editors, as one poem, the work of one author, and that author Homer—the first and greatest of minstrels. As I understand the 'Iliad,' there is a unity of plan, a harmony of parts, a consistency among the different situations of the same character, which mark it as the production of one mind; but of a mind as versatile as the forms of nature, the aspects of life, and the combinations of powers, propensities and passions in man are various." In these views, the literary world now very generally concurs.
"The hypothesis to which the antagonists of Homer's personality must resort implies something more wonderful than the theory which they impugn. They profess to cherish the deepest veneration for the genius displayed in the poems. They agree, also, in the antiquity usually assigned to them; and they make this genius and this antiquity the arguments to prove that one man could not have composed them. They suppose, then, that in a barbarous age, instead of one being marvelously gifted, there were many; a mighty race of bards, such as the world has never since seen—a number of miracles instead of one. Allexperience is against this opinion. In various periods of the world great men have arisen, under very different circumstances, to astonish and delight it; but that the intuitive power should be so strangely diffused, at any one period, among a great number, who should leave no successors behind them, is unworthy of credit. And we are requested to believe this to have occurred in an age which those who maintain the theory regard as unfavorable to the poetic art! The common theory, independent of other proofs, isprima faciethe most probable. Since the early existence of the works can not be doubted, it is easier to believe in one than in twenty Homers."—Talfourd.
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Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful springOf woes unnumbered, heavenly goddess sing!That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reignThe souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain;Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore;Since great Achilles and Atrides strove.Such was the sov'reign doom, and such the will of Jove.Pope.
Achilles' wrath, to Greece the direful springOf woes unnumbered, heavenly goddess sing!That wrath which hurl'd to Pluto's gloomy reignThe souls of mighty chiefs untimely slain;Whose limbs, unburied on the naked shore,Devouring dogs and hungry vultures tore;Since great Achilles and Atrides strove.Such was the sov'reign doom, and such the will of Jove.Pope.
Minerva wrapt her in the robe that curiously she woveWith glorious colors, as she sate on th' azure floor of Jove;And wore the arms that he puts on, bent to the tearful field.About her broad-spread shoulders hung his huge and horrid shield,Fring'd round with ever-fighting snakes; though it was drawn to lifeThe miseries and deaths of fight; in it frown'd bloody Strife;In it shin'd sacred Fortitude; in it fell Pursuit flew;[708]In it the monster Gorgon's head, in which held out to viewWere all the dire ostents of Jove; on her big head she plac'dHis four-plum'd glittering casque of gold, so admirably vast,It would an hundred garrisons of soldiers comprehend.Then to her shining chariot her vigorous feet ascend;And in her violent hand she takes his grave, huge, solid lance,With which the conquests of her wrath she useth to advance,And overturn whole fields of men; to show she was the seedOf him that thunders. Then heaven's queen, to urge her horses' speed,Takes up the scourge, and forth they fly; the ample gates of heavenRung, and flew open of themselves; the charge whereof is given,With all Olympus and the sky, to the distinguish'd Hours;That clear or hide it all in clouds, or pour it down in showers.This way their scourge-obeying horse made haste, and soon they wonThe top of all the topful heavens, where aged Saturn's sonSate severed from the other gods.Chapman's translation, v.
Minerva wrapt her in the robe that curiously she woveWith glorious colors, as she sate on th' azure floor of Jove;And wore the arms that he puts on, bent to the tearful field.About her broad-spread shoulders hung his huge and horrid shield,Fring'd round with ever-fighting snakes; though it was drawn to lifeThe miseries and deaths of fight; in it frown'd bloody Strife;In it shin'd sacred Fortitude; in it fell Pursuit flew;[708]In it the monster Gorgon's head, in which held out to viewWere all the dire ostents of Jove; on her big head she plac'dHis four-plum'd glittering casque of gold, so admirably vast,It would an hundred garrisons of soldiers comprehend.Then to her shining chariot her vigorous feet ascend;And in her violent hand she takes his grave, huge, solid lance,With which the conquests of her wrath she useth to advance,And overturn whole fields of men; to show she was the seedOf him that thunders. Then heaven's queen, to urge her horses' speed,Takes up the scourge, and forth they fly; the ample gates of heavenRung, and flew open of themselves; the charge whereof is given,With all Olympus and the sky, to the distinguish'd Hours;That clear or hide it all in clouds, or pour it down in showers.This way their scourge-obeying horse made haste, and soon they wonThe top of all the topful heavens, where aged Saturn's sonSate severed from the other gods.Chapman's translation, v.
Hector now pass'd, with sad presaging heart,To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part;At home he sought her, but he sought in vain:She, with one maid of all her menial train,Had thence retired; and with her second joy,The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy:Pensive she stood on Ilion's towery height,Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight;There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore,Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore.Hector this heard, return'd without delay;Swift through the town he trod his former way,Through streets of palaces and walks of state,And met the mourner at the Scæan gate.With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair,His blameless wife, Aetion's wealthy heir.[709]The nurse stood near, in whose embraces press'd,[710]His only hope hung smiling at her breast;Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn,Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn.Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resign'dTo tender passions all his mighty mind:His beauteous princess cast a mournful look,Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke;Her bosom labor'd with a boding sigh,And the big tear stood trembling in her eye."Too darling prince! ah, whither dost thou run?Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son!And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be,A widow I, a helpless orphan he!For sure such courage length of life denies,And thou must fall, thy virtues sacrifice.Greece in her single heroes strove in vain;Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain!Oh grant me, gods! ere Hector meets his doom,All I can ask of heaven, an early tomb!So shall my days in one sad tenor run,And end with sorrows as they first begun.No parent now remains my griefs to share,No father's aid, no mother's tender care.The fierce Achilles wrapp'd our walls in fire,Laid Thebe waste, and slew my warlike sire!By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell,In one sad day beheld the gates of hell.My mother lived to bear the victor's bands,The queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands.Yet, while my Hector still survives, I seeMy father, mother, brethren, all in thee:Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, allOnce more will perish, if my Hector fall.Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share:O, prove a husband's and a father's care!That quarter most the skillful Greeks annoyWhere yon wild fig-trees join the walls of Troy;Thou from this tower defend the important post;There Agamemnon points his dreadful host,[711]That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain.And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train.Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given,Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven.Let others in the field their arms employ,But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy."The chief replied: "That post shall be my care,Nor that alone, but all the works of war.How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd,And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground,Attaint the lustre of my former name,Should Hector basely quit the field of fame?My early youth was bred to martial pains,My soul impels me to the embattled plains;Let me be foremost to defend the throne,And guard my father's glories and my own.Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates;(How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!)The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend,Must see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind,My mother's death, the ruin of my kind,Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore,Not all my brothers gasping on the shore,As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread;I see the trembling, weeping, captive led!In Argive looms our battles to design,And woes of which so large a part was thine!To bear the victor's hard commands, or bringThe weight of waters from Hyperia's spring.There, while you groan beneath the load of life,They cry, 'Behold the mighty Hector's wife!'Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see,Embitters all thy woes by naming me.The thoughts of glory past, and present shame,A thousand griefs shall waken at the name!May I lie cold before that dreadful day,Press'd with a load of monumental clay!Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep,[712]Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep."Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of TroyStretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy.The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast,Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled,And Hector hasted to relieve his child;The glittering terrors from his brows unbound,And placed the gleaming helmet on the ground.Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air,Thus to the gods preferr'd a father's prayer:—"O, thou whose glory fills the ethereal throne!And all ye deathless powers, protect my son!Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown,To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown;Against his country's foes the war to wage,And rise the Hector of the future age!So when, triumphant from successful toilsOf heroes slain, he bears the reeking spoils,Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim,And say, 'This chief transcends his father's fame;'While pleased, amidst the general shouts of Troy,His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy."He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms,Restored the pleasing burden to her arms;Soft on her fragrant breast the babe he laid,Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd.The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear.She mingled with the smile a tender tear.The soften'd chief with kind compassion view'd,And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued:—"Andromache, my soul's far better part,Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart?No hostile hand can antedate my doom,Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb.Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth;And such the hard condition of our birth,No force can then resist, no flight can save,All sink alike, the fearful and the brave.[713]No more—but hasten to thy tasks at home,There guide the spindle, and direct the loom:Me glory summons to the martial scene,The field of combat is the sphere for men;Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim,The first in danger, as the first in fame."Thus having said, the glorious chief resumesHis towery helmet black with shading plumes.His princess parts, with a prophetic sigh,Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye,That stream'd at every look; then, moving slow,Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe.There, while her tears deplored the god-like man,Through all her train the soft infection ran.The pious maids their mingled sorrows shed,And mourn the living Hector as the dead.Pope, Iliad, vi.
Hector now pass'd, with sad presaging heart,To seek his spouse, his soul's far dearer part;At home he sought her, but he sought in vain:She, with one maid of all her menial train,Had thence retired; and with her second joy,The young Astyanax, the hope of Troy:Pensive she stood on Ilion's towery height,Beheld the war, and sicken'd at the sight;There her sad eyes in vain her lord explore,Or weep the wounds her bleeding country bore.Hector this heard, return'd without delay;Swift through the town he trod his former way,Through streets of palaces and walks of state,And met the mourner at the Scæan gate.With haste to meet him sprung the joyful fair,His blameless wife, Aetion's wealthy heir.[709]The nurse stood near, in whose embraces press'd,[710]His only hope hung smiling at her breast;Whom each soft charm and early grace adorn,Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn.Silent the warrior smiled, and pleased resign'dTo tender passions all his mighty mind:His beauteous princess cast a mournful look,Hung on his hand, and then dejected spoke;Her bosom labor'd with a boding sigh,And the big tear stood trembling in her eye."Too darling prince! ah, whither dost thou run?Ah, too forgetful of thy wife and son!And think'st thou not how wretched we shall be,A widow I, a helpless orphan he!For sure such courage length of life denies,And thou must fall, thy virtues sacrifice.Greece in her single heroes strove in vain;Now hosts oppose thee, and thou must be slain!Oh grant me, gods! ere Hector meets his doom,All I can ask of heaven, an early tomb!So shall my days in one sad tenor run,And end with sorrows as they first begun.No parent now remains my griefs to share,No father's aid, no mother's tender care.The fierce Achilles wrapp'd our walls in fire,Laid Thebe waste, and slew my warlike sire!By the same arm my seven brave brothers fell,In one sad day beheld the gates of hell.My mother lived to bear the victor's bands,The queen of Hippoplacia's sylvan lands.Yet, while my Hector still survives, I seeMy father, mother, brethren, all in thee:Alas! my parents, brothers, kindred, allOnce more will perish, if my Hector fall.Thy wife, thy infant, in thy danger share:O, prove a husband's and a father's care!That quarter most the skillful Greeks annoyWhere yon wild fig-trees join the walls of Troy;Thou from this tower defend the important post;There Agamemnon points his dreadful host,[711]That pass Tydides, Ajax, strive to gain.And there the vengeful Spartan fires his train.Thrice our bold foes the fierce attack have given,Or led by hopes, or dictated from heaven.Let others in the field their arms employ,But stay my Hector here, and guard his Troy."The chief replied: "That post shall be my care,Nor that alone, but all the works of war.How would the sons of Troy, in arms renown'd,And Troy's proud dames, whose garments sweep the ground,Attaint the lustre of my former name,Should Hector basely quit the field of fame?My early youth was bred to martial pains,My soul impels me to the embattled plains;Let me be foremost to defend the throne,And guard my father's glories and my own.Yet come it will, the day decreed by fates;(How my heart trembles while my tongue relates!)The day when thou, imperial Troy! must bend,Must see thy warriors fall, thy glories end.And yet no dire presage so wounds my mind,My mother's death, the ruin of my kind,Not Priam's hoary hairs defiled with gore,Not all my brothers gasping on the shore,As thine, Andromache! thy griefs I dread;I see the trembling, weeping, captive led!In Argive looms our battles to design,And woes of which so large a part was thine!To bear the victor's hard commands, or bringThe weight of waters from Hyperia's spring.There, while you groan beneath the load of life,They cry, 'Behold the mighty Hector's wife!'Some haughty Greek, who lives thy tears to see,Embitters all thy woes by naming me.The thoughts of glory past, and present shame,A thousand griefs shall waken at the name!May I lie cold before that dreadful day,Press'd with a load of monumental clay!Thy Hector, wrapt in everlasting sleep,[712]Shall neither hear thee sigh, nor see thee weep."Thus having spoke, the illustrious chief of TroyStretch'd his fond arms to clasp the lovely boy.The babe clung crying to his nurse's breast,Scared at the dazzling helm and nodding crest.With secret pleasure each fond parent smiled,And Hector hasted to relieve his child;The glittering terrors from his brows unbound,And placed the gleaming helmet on the ground.Then kiss'd the child, and, lifting high in air,Thus to the gods preferr'd a father's prayer:—"O, thou whose glory fills the ethereal throne!And all ye deathless powers, protect my son!Grant him, like me, to purchase just renown,To guard the Trojans, to defend the crown;Against his country's foes the war to wage,And rise the Hector of the future age!So when, triumphant from successful toilsOf heroes slain, he bears the reeking spoils,Whole hosts may hail him with deserved acclaim,And say, 'This chief transcends his father's fame;'While pleased, amidst the general shouts of Troy,His mother's conscious heart o'erflows with joy."He spoke, and fondly gazing on her charms,Restored the pleasing burden to her arms;Soft on her fragrant breast the babe he laid,Hush'd to repose, and with a smile survey'd.The troubled pleasure soon chastised by fear.She mingled with the smile a tender tear.The soften'd chief with kind compassion view'd,And dried the falling drops, and thus pursued:—"Andromache, my soul's far better part,Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart?No hostile hand can antedate my doom,Till fate condemns me to the silent tomb.Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth;And such the hard condition of our birth,No force can then resist, no flight can save,All sink alike, the fearful and the brave.[713]No more—but hasten to thy tasks at home,There guide the spindle, and direct the loom:Me glory summons to the martial scene,The field of combat is the sphere for men;Where heroes war, the foremost place I claim,The first in danger, as the first in fame."Thus having said, the glorious chief resumesHis towery helmet black with shading plumes.His princess parts, with a prophetic sigh,Unwilling parts, and oft reverts her eye,That stream'd at every look; then, moving slow,Sought her own palace, and indulged her woe.There, while her tears deplored the god-like man,Through all her train the soft infection ran.The pious maids their mingled sorrows shed,And mourn the living Hector as the dead.Pope, Iliad, vi.