A Burlesque Translation of Homer

Who art the very head o' th' quorum?
I shame myself to think I'm catching
Thee fast asleep, instead of watching.
Is not all Greece pinn'd on thy lap?
Rise, and for once postpone thy nap;
Or by some rogue it will be said,
The chief of chiefs went drunk to bed:
For Jove, by whom you are respected,
Says your affairs sha'n't be neglected:
But now on your affair he's poring,
Whilst you lie f – ting here and snoring:
He bids thee arm thy ragged knaves
With cudgels, spits, and quarter-staves;
For now the time is come, he swears,
To pull Troy's walls about their ears:
Nay more, he adds, the gods agree
With Fate itself it thus shall be.
Jove and his queen have had their quantum
Of jaw, and such-like rantum-scantum:
She now puts on her best behaviours,
And they're as kind as incle-weavers.
Then nothing more the Vision said,
But kick'd me half way out of bed.
This very token did, I vow,
Convince me that the dream was true;
For, waking soon, I found my head
And shoulders on the floor were laid,
Whilst my long legs kept snug in bed:
Therefore, since Jove, with good intent,
So rare a messenger has sent,
We should directly, I've a notion,
Put all our jolly boys in motion:
But first, what think you if we settle
A scheme to try the scarecrows' mettle,
As with nine years they're worn to th' stumps?
I'll feign my kingship in the dumps
With Jove himself, and then propose
That homeward they direct their nose.
But take you care, if I succeed,
To show yourselves in time of need:
Swear you don't mind the gen'ral's clack,
But in a hurry drive 'em back.

He spoke, and squatting on his breech,
Square-toes got up and made a speech:
I think our chief would not beguile us,
Says the old constable of Pylos.
Had any soul though, but our leader,
For dreams and visions been a pleader,
I should, my boys, to say no worse,
Have call'd him an old guzzling nurse.
I seldom old wives' tales believe,
Nurses invent 'em to deceive.
But now there can be no disguise,
For kings should scorn to tell folks lies;
So let us e'en, with one accord,
Resolve to take his royal word:
For though the speech is queerish stuff,
'Tis the king's speech, and that's enough.
I therefore say, My buffs so stout,
Of this same vision make no doubt;
The tokens are so very clear,
There can be little room for fear.
Did not our monarch, as he said,
Feel the Dream kick him out of bed,
And, by his waking posture, knew
His sense of feeling told him true?
Then, since affairs so far are gone,
Let's put our fighting faces on.
He said; nor did they longer stay,
But from the council haste away.
The leaders bring their men along;
They still were many thousands strong;
As thick as gardens swarm with bees,
Or tailors' working-boards with fleas:
And Jove, for fear they should not all
Attend, and mind their general's call,
Bid Fame, a chatt'ring, noisy strumpet,
To sound her longest brazen trumpet:

This brought such numbers on the lawn,
The very earth was heard to groan,
Nine criers went to still their noise;
That they might hear their leader's voice.
He haw'd and hemm'd before he spoke,
Then rais'd his truncheon made of oak:
'Twas Vulcan's making, which Jove gave
To Mercury, a thieving knave;
Who going down to Kent to steal hops,
Resign'd his staff to carter Pelops;
From Pelops it to Atreus came;
He to Thyestes left the same,
Who kept it dry, lest rain should rot it,
And when he dy'd Atrides got it:
With this he rules the Greeks with ease,
Or breaks their noddles if he please;
Now leaning on't, he silence broke,
And with so grum an accent spoke,
Those people that the circle stood in,
Fancy'd his mouth was full of pudding.