A Burlesque Translation of Homer

Pull'd off her clothes, and laid her down
Upon the bed beside her swain,
Who trimm'd her buff with might and main.
How oft, at exercise so vi'lent,
They cry'd Encore, our author's silent.

HOMER'S ILIAD

BOOK III

Thus muster'd by their leaders' care,
Both sides for fisty-cuffs prepare.
The Trojans toss their caps and shout,
And noise proclaims 'em bloody stout;
Like cranes that fly in winter time
(As poets tell us) to a clime
Where pigmies dwell, with whom they fight
To th' ears in blood from morn to night.
But the bold Grecians on their toes
Steal softly to surprise their foes,
Taking huge steps along the green
To get a blow before they're seen,
Knowing, a sorry rogue may crack
A brave man's crown behind his back.
With nimble feet, in sweat well soak'd,
They trudge it, though with dust half chok'd.
Thus, when a mist on mountain head
As thick as mustard round is spread,
The puzzled shepherd cannot keep
The goats from mingling with the sheep:
So of the Greeks, not one, I trow,
Ask him but hastily, could know
Whether his nose was on or no.
Now front to front they ready stand
To fight, and only wait command;
When nimble Paris to the van,
Dress'd à la mode de François, ran:
With coney-skins he edg'd his coat,
To show he was a man of note:
A cross-bow o'er his back was slung;
And on his thigh his poniard hung.
A staff he pois'd would fell an ox,
And dar'd the boldest Greek to box.
As thus he struts, and makes a splutter,
Like crow i' th' middle of a gutter,
Him Menelaus soon espies,
And joyful to himself he cries:

Blast my old shoes, but very soon
I'll have a knock at your rogue's crown!
Then darted, in a bloody rage,
From his old duns cart to engage:
And as he hied along to meet him,
He look'd as if he meant to eat him.
So joys the bailiff, when he spies
A half-pay officer his prize:
Headlong he drives across the way,
Regardless both of cart and dray,
Nor stops till he has seiz'd his prey.

Soon as the youth the cuckold saw,
As guilt will ever feel an awe,
In spite of all that he could say,
He found his legs would run away:
Then, since the matter turn'd out so,
'Twas best, he thought, to let 'em go;
So turn'd about, and in a crack
They brought their master safely back;
And, as he puff'd along, we find him
Not daring once to look behind him.
As when a bumpkin sees a snake
Come slyly stealing from the brake,
He starts, and looks confounded cunning,
But quickly saves himself by running:
So this young beau the cuckold shuns,
And 'mongst his trusty Trojans runs.
This the bold Hector could not bear;
He thought he ran away for fear —
Without considering, now and then
The very best and boldest men
Cannot their members so command
To make 'em at all seasons stand.
Be that as't may; with accent grave
He thus began to scold the knave:

Paris, says he, you're but a cheat,
And only dare the wenches meet;
But though a man you dare not face,
Yet, when the fight becomes a chase,
You'd beat a thousand in the race.
I wish, ere Nelly thou hadst felt,
Thou'dst broke thy neck, or hadst been gelt:
Better by half than thus to bully,
Then run away from such a cully.
The Greeks all swear thou art besh-t,
And their fat sides with laughing split.
Thou look a soldier! thou be d – d!
The Grecians cannot be so flamm'd.
When thy fine long-boats went to Greece
To steal away this precious piece;