A Burlesque Translation of Homer

And brought a giant from Guildhall
With face so grim he scar'd 'em all:
When once you'd got him rais'd above,
And plac'd him by the side of Jove,
So fast with both his hands he thunder'd,
The rebels swore he'd got a hundred,
Threw down the ropes they'd brought to bind 'em,
And, scamp'ring, never look'd behind 'em:
Tell him, for this, to drive pell mell
The Grecian sons of whores to hell,
That Atreus' son, that stupid fool,
May have no scoundrels left to rule;
And then he'll hang himself for spite,
He durst the boldest Grecian slight.

His mother's heart was almost broke,
To hear how dolefully he spoke:
But having belch'd, she thus replies,
The salt brine running from her eyes:

O Killey, since the Fates do stint
Thy precious life, the devil's in't
That thou must likewise bear to boots
This scurvy, mangey rascal's flouts:
But take thy mammy's good advice,
And his thee homeward in a trice;
Or, if thou'd rather choose to stay,
Don't help the dogs in any fray.
Depend upon't, to Jove I'll go,
And let him all the matter know:
He junkets now with swarthy faces
(For he, like men, has all his paces),
And will continue at the feast
Ten or eleven days at least:
Taking, like our Jamaica planters,
Their fill of what our vilest ranters
Would puke at but these kind of beast
Esteem it as a noble feast;
I mean the breaking-up the trenches
Of sooty, sweaty negro wenches
(Though most o' th' planters that thus roam,
Like Jove, have wife enough at home.)
Soon as his guts have got their fill,
I'll tell him all, by Jove I will!
Till he has granted my petition,
Don't stir to keep 'em from perdition;
Not e'en to save their souls, plague rot 'em!
So souse she plung'd, and reach'd the bottom.

Mean time Ulysses, full of cares,
Had moor'd his boat at Chrysa's stairs:
When sails were furl'd, and all made snug,
They tipp'd the can, and pass'd the jug;
Then fell to work, and brought their store
Of cows and rotten sheep ashore:
This done, the last of all came out
The girl that caus'd this woful rout.
Ulysses, ever on the lurch,
Hurries the girl away to church,
Knowing full well that there he had
Best chance of finding her old dad;
And as he gave her to th' old man,
To lie[1 - Every body knows Ulysses could lie with a very grave face.] and cant he thus began:

I come upon my bended knees,
Thine and Apollo's wrath t' appease;
And that I'm in good earnest, see
Thy girl come back, and ransom-free;
And, what I own is boldly said,
I've brought her with her maidenhead;
For which, I hope, our friend you'll stand,
That Sol may hold his heavy hand,
The parson hugg'd and kiss'd his daughter,
And shak'd the hands of them that brought her
So pleas'd to see the girl again,
He fell to prayers might and main;
And, whilst the Greeks the cattle slay,
The parson thus was heard to pray:

Apollo, pr'ythee hear me now,
As eke thou didst nine days ago:
As thou at my request didst murder
The Grecians, pr'ythee go no further;
Hear, once again, thy priest's petition,
And mend their most bedaub'd condition.

Apollo, as the sound drew near,
To ev'ry syllab lent an ear:
And now they fell to cutting throats
Of bulls and oxen, sheep and goats.
After the day-light god was serv'd,
The priest for all the people carv'd.
But how the hungry whoresons scaff'd;
How eagerly the beer they quaff'd,
Till they had left no single chink,
Either to hold more meat or drink,
None can describe: they grew so mellow,
Nothing was heard but whoop and halloo;
Rare songs they sung, and catches too —
(The composition good and true)