English Translations from the Greek: A Bibliographical Survey — Reading Companion

Scope and Self-Imposed Limits

Foster defines his territory with precision. Greek literature up to 200 A.D. forms the core, with exceptions like Musaeus. He excludes Josephus and early Christian fathers because their 'interest is mainly religious'—a decision that shapes the survey as a record of pagan classical reception. The preface also warns that he does not distinguish between editions and reprints, arguing that the fact of publication at a given time matters more than the exact printing history. This pragmatic choice keeps the list manageable but means users cannot infer print runs or textual variants from the data. Foster's sources are equally specific: Miss Palmer's bibliography, The Stationers' Register, The Term Catalogues, and the British Museum catalogue. The result is a work that knows its own boundaries and states them plainly.

The Anatomy of an Entry

Each translation entry follows a consistent pattern: author, title, translator, date, format, and reprints. For example, entry 21 records Thomas Parnell's 1717 Batrachomyomachia as an octavo, with a 1772 reprint and an American edition in 1872 that bundles translations by Parnell, Chapman, Shelley, Congreve, and Hole. Foster notes the inclusion of a life of Homer attributed to Herodotus, translated by K. R. H. Mackenzie. This level of detail—down to the contents of a collected volume—shows Foster's interest in the bibliographic object as a composite artifact. Entries for major works like Pope's Iliad and Odyssey run to dozens of reprint lines, listing publishers, editors, and series (Bohn Library, Chandos Library, World's Classics). The cumulative effect is a dense record of how one translation could proliferate across markets and centuries.

Tracking Reprints Across Oceans

Foster systematically separates British and American reprints, a distinction that highlights the transatlantic circulation of classical translations. For Pope's Homer, American reprints appear from Hartford (1852–55) to New York (1911–12), often in multiple editions per year. He notes when a translation appears in a series like Lovell's Library or the Albion Poets, signaling how classical texts were packaged for popular audiences. The same attention applies to less canonical works: Parnell's Batrachomyomachia gets an American reprint in 1872, while Samuel Langley's 1767 blank-verse Iliad Book I—a 'specimen' of a projected complete version—appears only in its original London edition. These patterns suggest which translations had lasting commercial appeal and which remained isolated experiments.

The Translator's Voice in Bibliographic Form

Foster's entries occasionally reveal translators' ambitions through paratextual details. Langley's 1767 Iliad Book I includes 'notes, pointing out the peculiar beauties of the original and the imitations of it by succeeding poets' and 'remarks on Mr. Pope's admired version'—a direct challenge to Pope's dominance. William Cowper's 1791 blank-verse Iliad and Odyssey also includes his translation of the Batrachomyomachia, linking the mock-epic to his serious Homer. Foster records these features without commentary, letting the entries speak to the competitive, imitative, and sometimes eccentric nature of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century translation practice. The bibliography thus becomes a record not just of books, but of translators' strategies and rivalries.

Foster's survey is best used as a reference tool, not a narrative history. Readers should note that the list is limited to Greek literature before 200 A.D. and excludes religious texts. The reprint data, while extensive, does not distinguish editions from mere reprints, so caution is needed when inferring popularity from frequency. For tracing the afterlife of a translation—its reissues, American adaptations, or inclusion in collected works—this bibliography remains a uniquely detailed resource, one that rewards patient browsing.

That rainy afternoon, I lost myself in Foster’s bibliographic trails—each entry a quiet footprint of how antiquity travelled. His meticulous lists made me wonder about place, about land shaping stories, which led me sideways to Notes on the Floridian Peninsula; Its Literary History, Indian Tribes and Antiquities — Context and Discussion. Unexpected, that leap from Greek choruses to Florida’s swamps, yet somehow the same longing for roots.