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Scotch Translation of Homer.

"Faust, leein' seer!-for ever croakin' ill,
Nae joy or blitheness do ye e'er fortell!
Gin ony gude ye ken, ye'll never say't,

But ill ye ever speak, and ever do't," &c.

These and other reproaches were no doubt embittered by the recollection of domestic calamity; for it was at the suggestion of this same Calchas that Agamemnon had sacrificed his daughter Iphegenia-He afterwards relates the fervour of his attachment towards his captive and her many powers of attraction, that his willingness to part with her to benefit his subjects might appear the more noble.


"Sic charms are her's wham I sae dearly lo'e,
An sair it costs me-but-I'll let her gae-
Princes, alake! hae mony an unkent pain;

Their people's waes-feel sneller than their ain!

This noble disinterestedness, however, does not prevent him from demanding a recompence for his loss, and Achilles, in no very courteous language, having exposed the meanness of his demand and the impossibility of complying with it, is answered by a threatening speech in which Agamemnon declares that he will take for himself the share of the spoil, which had been allotted to Achilles, or some other of the inferior chiefs.


Out spak the spankin son o' Peleus * then

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An' turn'd him glunshin to the king o' men † :

Upo' my trowth! sic sause I never heard:

Ye greedy kenna-what!-are ye no feard

The Greeks hereafter 'll refuse to do
What ye comman'? or at your biddin' gae
Your uneo gates-to harry fo'k o' night,
Or meet your faes by day in bluidy fight?-
I've surely been misleared whan I cam here
To dree your scowls sae mony a langsome year.
The men o' Troy, (puir chiels) did me nae skaith,
My kye aye grazed in peace an' horses baith ;`

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Scotch Translation of Homer.

My craps might rot upo' the sunny brae
Afore they'd steal or burn a single strae :
(Big landward mountains sever us I ween,
An' mony a rairin' wave aye rows atween.)
We left our hames to redd your brither's wrang,
An' yours, ye saucy whalp !-we've staid ower lang;
Ower lang hae left our wives to greet alane,

An' get nae thanks for a' our bluid an' pain.

An' now ye say ye'll tak awa the spoil
Gien by my cumrads for lang years o' toil!
-Weel do ye ken, it's sma' an' sair, sair won,
Nae rives like yours frae ilka plunder'd town.
An' this is aye the gate: my han's do far
The greatest deeds o' this lang bluidy war:
But whan the gear's divided ye get maist;
The bonniest aye o' lasses and the best-
While I (dear bought an' sair altho' its been,)
Tak to my ships a prize-no worth a preen.
Weary an' dais'd frae every fecht I gang,
An' fecht for naething, tho' I've fochen lang:
I'll fecht nae mair!-I'll gang to Phthia hame,
An' steer my cruiket ships the way they came.
But, (tak my word for't) ye'll get never mair
Lasses to fecht about, or gear to share!".

"Gang gin ye like!" the king o' men replied,
"Lang wad it be afore I bid ye bide:

There's mony left tho' ye should rin awa,
Wha'll help me yet, an' Jove mair than ye a'!
Ye vile, ill-natur'd carle! I hate you mair
Than a' the Heaven-sprang kings baith far an' near:
Nought else but broils an' bickerins ye love,

An' brag o' strength gien to-a' brutes, frae Jove,-
Gang back, I tell ye, to your snools at hame,
An' haud your gab to girn an' craw ower them,

I'll never prig to keep ye langer here.—

Gae! scowl on them to wham your wrath brings fear:

'Nae gear we'll get whan your strong arm we tyne!' Hech Sirs! sic threats! Now list a wee till mine:

Scotch Translation of Homer.

Sin' Phoebus* wants Chryseis fair away,
To save my people's lives, I'll let her gae.
This day I'll send her owre the faemin' sea,
An' then-I'll tak the bonny bride frae thee;
Mysel!-I'll tak her wi' the han' o' power,
An' lea' thee lanely in thy bridal bower!
An' then ye'll see whilk's stronger o' us twa;
An' a' the lave tak warning frae your fa',

What awfu' skaith upon his head he brings,

187. That strives in council wi' the king o' kings."t

Achilles is infuriated by these words, and the most tragical conse quences might have ensued, had not Minerva commissioned by Juno, most opportunely made her appearance. By her advice the son of Peleus is induced to relinquish his first determination of slaying Agamemnon on the spot. His anger, however, is by no means pacified, and after very severe invectives against that prince, he forms the resolution to which we have already alluded, and on the adherence to which, in a great measure, hinges the chief interest of the Poem.



"Such is my vow-Peace towards Troy I've sworn,
And sair that vow shall a' your warriors mourn :
Whan murderous Hector drives them ower the plain
They'll wis' Achilles back, but wis' in vain:
An' thou, proud chief, ower late retract your boast,
An, ken ye've wranged the bravest in your host.”
Sae fierce Achilles thun'ert out his wrath,
Syne dash'd his gowden sceptre on the yirth;
Nor less incens'd, the mighty king o' men,
Strove in his breast, 'tween pride and proud disdain,
Till Pylos' king, the glib-tongued Nestor raise:
(Sweet was his voice, tho' shrill thro' length o' days)
The words, like hinney, drapped frae his tongue,
As, saft, and sweet, and sage, he thus begun-&c.

* Apollo.

Agamemnon is frequently styled so by Homer.

Love American Poetry.


O Love! thou softest passion of the mind!
(Whose wond'rous chains the willing captive bind,
Say why with eager haste we run to meet
Thy joys so painful and thy pains so sweet?

Fantastic charmer! Shall we never know
Whence springs this mighty weight of human wo?
Slaves to thy power to freedom born in vain,
We hate our Liberty, and hug thy chain.




The following verses appeared originally in the Franklin Gazetteand latterly in the London Courier. I send you this copy in the belief that the insertion of them in your Poet's corner, will gratify a L. T. G. number of your readers.

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Verses on leaving the Country for Glasgow College.


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