[Greek: Mênin aeide, thea, Pêlêiadeô Achilêos,
oulomenên, he myri' Achaiois alge' ethêken,
pollas d' iphthimous phychas Aidi proiapsen
hêrôôn, autous de helôria teuche kynessin
oiônoisi te pasi (Dios d'eteleieto boulê),
ex ou dê ta prôta diastêtên erisante
Atreidês te, anax andrôn, kai dios Achilleus.
Tis t' ar sphôe theôn eridi xyneêke machesthai?
Lêtous kai Dios huios. O gar basilêi cholôtheis
nouson ana straton ôrse kakên, slekonto de laoi.]
I dispense with making any reflection upon the charm of the original verses and upon the admirable sentiment which terminates them. It would be a very strange thing not to be impressed by the beauties of this poetry. Let us pass on to Vergil.
Even though I should not say it, it would suffice now to compare the Greek poet with the Latin poet, in order to perceive that the latter received only a second inspiration, transmitted by the inspiring power of the former. Vergil, less ardent, more tender, more correct, admits at once the luminous distinction; far from blending the exposition and invocation, he separates them, affects a tone more simple, promises little, exposes with timidity the subject of his poem, summons his Muse, and seems to persuade it, even less than the reader, to be favourable to him. He employs these lines:
Je chante les combats, et ce Héros troyen,
Qui, fuyant Ilion aborda l'Italie
Le premier: sur la terre errant, et sur les mers,
En butte aux traits cruels de Junon irritée,
Il souffrit mille maux; avant qu'il établît
Ses Dieux chez les Latins, et fondât une ville,
Berceau d'Albe, de Rome et de ses hauts remparts.
Muse! rappelle-moi quels motifs de vengeance
Excitaient la Déesse, et pourquoi son courroux
S'obstinait à poursuive un Héros magnanime?
Tant de haine entre-t-elle au cœur des Immortels!
