Samuel Butler and Ian Johnston offer distinct translations of Homer's Iliad that capture the epic's themes and characters in unique ways. Butler's approach is characterized by a more formal and somewhat archaic style, as seen in his translation of the opening lines, "Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans." His language is structured and deliberate, befitting the grand and timeless nature of the source material. In contrast, Johnston's translation takes on a more contemporary and accessible tone, opening with "Sing, Goddess, sing the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus—that murderous anger which condemned Achaeans to countless agonies." Johnston's use of direct and familiar language makes the ancient epic more approachable to modern readers while maintaining its core narrative elements. Both translators handle specific scenes with fidelity to Homer’s original themes, yet their choices affect the reader's experience. In the scene where Athena encourages Diomedes, Butler presents Athena’s words in a structured and formal dialogue, enhancing the authoritative and commanding presence of the goddess. Johnston’s version, on the other hand, employs a more flowing and direct approach, using phrases like "you fill my heart with joy" to create a vivid and personable interaction. Regarding the imagery of life and death, Butler uses metaphor like "Men come and go as leaves year by year upon the trees," which is slightly more descriptive compared to Johnston’s concise "Generations of men are like the leaves." Both works merit appreciation for their ability to convey the drama and gravitas of the Iliad through their respective styles, inviting readers to engage with the epic's timeless narratives through different lenses.
Sing, O goddess, the anger of Achilles son of Peleus, that brought countless ills upon the Achaeans. Many a brave soul did it send hurrying down to Hades, and many a hero did it yield a prey to dogs and vultures, for so were the counsels of Jove fulfilled from the day on which the son of Atreus, king of men, and great Achilles, first fell out with one another.
Sing, Goddess, sing the rage of Achilles, son of Peleus—
that murderous anger which condemned Achaeans
to countless agonies and threw many warrior souls
deep into Hades, leaving their dead bodies
carrion food for dogs and birds—
all in fulfilment of the will of Zeus.