strength. Who is to imitate him? As to Mr. William Morris, he
might be fabled to render [Greek text] "niddering wights," but
beyond that, conjecture is baffled. {2} Or is THIS the kind of
thing? -


"Niddering wights, what a bane do ye bear, for your knees in the
night,
And your heads and your faces, are shrouded, and clamour that knows
not delight
Rings, and your cheeks are begrutten, and blood is besprent on the
walls,
Blood on the tapestry fair woven, and barrow-wights walk in the
halls.
Fetches and wraiths of the chosen of the Norns, and the sun from the
lift
Shudders, and over the midgarth and swan's bath the cloud-shadows
drift."


It may be argued that, though this is perhaps a translation, it is
not English, never was, and never will be. But it is quite as like
Homer as the performance of Pope.

Such as these, or not so very much better than these as might be
wished, are our efforts to translate Homer. From Chapman to Avia,
or Mr. William Morris, they are all eminently conscientious, and
erroneous, and futile. Chapman makes Homer a fanciful, euphuistic,
obscure, and garrulous Elizabethan, but Chapman has fire. Pope
makes him a wit, spirited, occasionally noble, full of points, and