poetry is in his best vein.  The poem was published by subscription, and was a great pecuniary success.  This was in part due to the blunt importunity of Dean Swift, who said:  “The author shall not begin to print until I have a thousand guineas for him.”  Parnell, one of the most accomplished Greek scholars of the day, wrote a life of Homer, to be prefixed to the work; and many of the critical notes were written by Broome, who had translated the Iliad into English prose.  Pope was not without poetical rivals.  Tickell produced a translation of the first book of the Iliad, which was certainly revised, and many thought partly written, by Addison.  A coolness already existing between Pope and Addison was increased by this circumstance, which soon led to an open rupture between them.  The public, however, favored Pope’s version, while a few of the dilettanti joined Addison in preferring Tickell’s.

The pecuniary results of Pope’s labors were particularly gratifying.  The work was published in six quarto volumes, and had more than six hundred subscribers, at six guineas a copy:  the amount realized by Pope on the first and subsequent issues was upwards of five thousand pounds—­an unprecedented payment of bookseller to author in that day.

VALUE OF THE TRANSLATION.—­This work, in spite of the criticism of exact scholars, has retained its popularity to the present time.  Chapman’s Homer has been already referred to.  Since the days of Pope numerous authors have tried their hands upon Homer, translating the whole or a part.  Among these is a very fine poem by Cowper, in blank verse, which is praised by the critics, but little read.  Lord Derby’s translation is distinguished for its prosaic accuracy.  The recent version of our venerable poet, Wm. C. Bryant, is acknowledged to be at once scholarly, accurate, and harmonious, and will be of permanent value and reputation.  But the exquisite tinkling of Pope’s lines, the pleasant refrain they leave in the memory, like the chiming of silver bells, will cause them to last, with undiminished favor, unaffected by more correct rivals, as long as the language itself.  “A very pretty poem, Mr. Pope,” said the great Bentley; “but pray do not call it Homer.”  Despite this criticism of the Greek scholar, the world has taken it for Homer, and knows Homer almost solely through this charming medium.

The Iliad was issued in successive years, the last two volumes appearing in 1720.  Of course it was savagely attacked by Dennis; but Pope had won more than he had hoped for, and might laugh at his enemies.

With the means he had inherited, increased by the sale of his poem, Pope leased a villa on the Thames, at Twickenham, which he fitted up as a residence for life.  He laid out the grounds, built a grotto, and made his villa a famous spot.

Here he was smitten by the masculine charms of the gifted Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, who figures in many of his verses, and particularly in the closing lines of the Epistle of Eloisa to Abelard.  It was a singular alliance, destined to a speedy rupture.  On her return from Turkey, in 1718, where her husband had been the English ambassador, she took a home near Pope’s villa, and, at his request, sat for her portrait.  When, later, they became estranged, she laughed at the poet, and his coldness turned into hatred.