Homeric simile

Homeric simile, also called an epic simile, is a detailed comparison in the form of a simile that are many lines in length.

Epic similes

Ancient

• So Hector spake; and Trojans roar’d applause;
  Then loosed their sweating horses from the yoke,
  And each beside his chariot bound his own;
  And oxen from the city, and goodly sheep
  In haste they drove, and honey-hearted wine
  And bread from out the houses brought, and heap’d
  Their firewood, and the winds from off the plain
  Roll’d the rich vapor far into the heaven.
  And these all night upon the bridge of war
  Sat glorying; many a fire before them blazed:
  As when in heaven the stars about the moon
  Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid,
  And every height comes out, and jutting peak
  And valley, and the immeasurable heavens
  Break open to their highest, and all the stars
  Shine, and the Shepherd gladdens in his heart:
  So many a fire between the ships and stream
  Of Xanthus blazed before the towers of Troy,
  A thousand on the plain; and close by each
  Sat fifty in the blaze of burning fire;
  And eating hoary grain and pulse the steeds,
  Fixt by their cars, waited the golden dawn.
  • Homer, Iliad, VIII, 542-561.
    Alfred, Lord Tennyson, "The Trojan Camp-fires",
    Cornhill Magazine, 8 (December 1863); Works, 3 (1872)
  • So Hector...] So Hector said, and sea-like roar’d his host;
    bridge of war] ridge of war
    And eating...] (a) And champing golden grain, the horses stood / Hard by their chariots, waiting for the dawn.
    (b) And eating hoary grain and pulse the steeds / Stood by their cars, waiting the thronèd morn.

• So saying, light-foot Iris pass’d away.
  Then rose Achilles dear to Zeus; and round
  The warrior’s puissant shoulders Pallas flung
  Her fringèd ægis, and around his head
  The glorious goddess wreath’d a golden cloud,
  And from it lighted an all-shining flame.
  As when a smoke from a city goes to heaven
  Far off from out an island girt by foes,
  All day the men contend in grievous war
  From their own city, and with set of sun
  Their fires flame thickly, and aloft the glare
  Flies streaming, if perchance the neighbours round
  May see, and sail to help them in the war;
  So from his head the splendour went to heaven.
  From wall to dyke he stept, he stood, nor join’d
  The Achaeans—honouring his wise mother’s word—
  There standing, shouted; Pallas far away
  Call’d; and a boundless panic shook the foe.
  For like the clear voice when a trumpet shrills,
  Blown by the fierce beleaguerers of a town,
  So rang the clear voice of Æakidês;
  And when the brazen cry of Æakidês
  Was heard among the Trojans, all their hearts
  Were troubled, and the full-maned horses whirl’d
  The chariots backward, knowing griefs at hand;
  And sheer-astounded were the charioteers
  To see the dread, unweariable fire
  That always o’er the great Peleion’s head
  Burnt, for the bright-eyed goddess made it burn.
  Thrice from the dyke he sent his mighty shout,
  Thrice backward reel’d the Trojans and allies;
  And there and then twelve of their noblest died
  Among their spears and chariots.
    The Achæans
  Eagerly dragg’d Patroclus from the fight
  And laid him on a bier. His friends stood round
  Weeping, and with them swift Achilles went
  And shed hot tears, seeing his faithful friend
  Laid on the litter, pierc’d with sharp-edg’d bronze;—
  Him had he sent with chariots and horses
  To war, but never welcomed his return.
  • Homer, Iliad, XVIII, 202-238.
    Alfred, Lord Tennyson, "Achilles Over the Trench",
    The Nineteenth Century, 2 (August 1877)

Modern

• So follow’d, Rustum left his tents, and cross’d
  The camp, and to the Persian host appear’d.
  And all the Persians knew him, and with shouts
  Hail’d; but the Tartars knew not who he was.
  And dear as the wet diver to the eyes
  Of his pale wife who waits and weeps on shore,
  By sandy Bahrein, in the Persian Gulf,
  Plunging all day in the blue waves, at night,
  Having made up his tale of precious pearls,
  Rejoins her in their hut upon the sands—
  So dear to the pale Persians Rustum came.
    And Rustum to the Persian front advanc’d,
  And Sohrab arm’d in Haman’s tent, and came.
  And as afield the reapers cut a swathe
  Down through the middle of a rich man’s corn,
  And on each side are squares of standing corn,
  And in the midst a stubble, short and bare;
  So on each side were squares of men, with spears
  Bristling, and in the midst, the open sand.
  And Rustum came upon the sand, and cast
  His eyes towards the Tartar tents, and saw
  Sohrab come forth, and ey’d him as he came.
    As some rich woman, on a winter’s morn,
  Eyes through her silken curtains the poor drudge
  Who with numb blacken’d fingers makes her fire—
  At cock-crow, on a starlit winter’s morn,
  When the frost flowers the whiten’d window panes—
  And wonders how she lives, and what the thoughts
  Of that poor drudge may be; so Rustum ey’d
  The unknown adventurous Youth, who from afar
  Came seeking Rustum, and defying forth
  All the most valiant chiefs: long he perus’d
  His spirited air, and wonder’d who he was.
  For very young he seem’d, tenderly rear’d;
  Like some young cypress, tall, and dark, and straight,
  Which in a queen’s secluded garden throws
  Its slight dark shadow on the moonlit turf,
  By midnight, to a bubbling fountain’s sound—
  So slender Sohrab seem’d, so softly rear’d.
  And a deep pity enter’d Rustum’s soul
  As he beheld him coming; [...]
  • Matthew Arnold, Sohrab and Rustum (1853)