Hugh Kenner, The Pound Era (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of Caligornia Press, 1971), p. 43:
“Troy” after Schliemann was no longer a dream, but a place on the map. As his discoveries persisted, more and more Homeric words came to mean something producible, something belonging to the universe of the naturalistic novelist. Each such word is salvage from the vortex of mere lexicography, where of words we learn chiefly what company they keep. When Alice in Wonderland’s father Henry George Liddell, D.D., collaborated on the Greek Lexicon in the reign of Victoria, the word euknēmides meant only “well-greaved,” which is not really English, and nothing more could be said about it except that another word Achaioi (of comparably uncertain scope) tends to draw it into the text, as “sea” draws the word they render “wine-dark,” and “Hera” draws “oxeyed.” So “oxeyed Hera,” we read in the Butcher and Lang translation, and “wine-dark sea,” and “goodly-greaved Achaeans.” But by the reign of the second Elizabeth euknēmides has acquired particularization from a painted vase, a stele, two sherds of pottery, a frieze from the megaron of Mycenae, a fresco at Pylos and an ivory relief from Delos, “all of the third late Helladic era”: whoever encounters the word in Homer today has reason to know that it designates something in particular, shin guards, of unspectacular appearance, leather perhaps, and distinctively Achaean, never Trojan; one more reality retrieved from amid a din of word.