A Burlesque Translation of Homer

Say, did'st thou, in thy first attack
On Helen's freehold, thus give back?
Joy to thy foes, shame to thy race,
Thy father's grief, and Troy's disgrace,
Recover thy lost credit soon,
And stoutly stand by what you've done;
Or else all Troy, as well as me,
Thy buxom wench will plainly see
Belongs a better man than thee.
Take heed, Troy may awake at last,
And make thee pay for all that's past.
Here Paris blush'd – a sign of grace;
Nor durst he look in Hector's face:

Then answers, By my soul, you're right
But who like you can preach and fight?
I know you're made of best of steel,
And box as if you could not feel.
You have your gifts, and I have mine:
Where each may in his province shine.
Smite you the men; I smite the wenches,
And seldom fail to storm their trenches.
Don't you despise the lover's charms:
They're Venus' gift, her powerful arms.
A good strong back, and proper measure
Of love, to give the fair ones pleasure,
Are blessings, which the gods bestow
Only to favourites below.
Yet, if it please thee, I will stand
This cuckold's combat hand to hand:
His mutton-fist bold Paris scorns,
He only fears his branching horns;
Should he receive from these a wound,
Our quack can never make him sound.
But go, explain the matter fully,
And I will box this Spartan bully.
My pretty Nelly shall be set
For him that doth the conquest get:
Her swelling breasts and matchless eyes
Shall be the lucky conqu'ror's prize:
Then Troy and Greece, in any weather,
May smoke a sober pipe together.
This challenge pleas'd, and Hector quick
Stopp'd all the Trojans with his stick;
Next to the foe, with Spanish pace,
Advanc'd, to let them know the case.

The Greeks, like coward sons of whores,
Threw bricks and cobble-stones in show'rs.

Atrides soon the tumult spies:
Give o'er, ye silly dogs! he cries;
'Tis Hector comes, if I am right,
To talk a little, not to fight:
I know him by his breadth of chest,
I know his skull-cap's always drest
With goose quills of the very best:
Then be not in such woeful splutter,
But hear what Hector has to utter.
At this rebuke they threw no more:
The tumult ceas'd; the fray was o'er:
His eyes the bully Trojan roll'd,
And briefly thus his story told:

Hear, all ye warriors, fam'd for toils,
In civil feuds and drunken broils:
Paris demands you now forbear
To kick and cuff, and curse and swear;
But on the ground your cudgels throw,
And stick your broomstaves on a row:
Let Troy and Greece but sit 'em down,
Paris will fight this Spartan loon;
The charming Helen shall be set,
For him that shall the conquest get;
Her snowy breasts and matchless eyes
Shall be the lucky conqu'ror's prize:
Then Troy and Greece, in any weather,
May smoke a sober pipe together.

He spoke; and for six minutes good,
With mouths half-cock'd, both armies stood:

When Menelaus thus began:
Bold Hector offers like a man,
And I the challenge will accept;
As freely as I ever slept.
Hector, perhaps, may think I won't,
But singe my whiskers if I don't!
I know, my lads, you fight for me,
And in my quarrel cross'd the sea.
I thank you, friends, for what you've done;
But now the battle's all my own:
Who falls, it matters not a fig,
If one survives to dance a jig
With that bewitching female Helen,
And stump it tightly when he's well in.
So, Trojans, if you mean no flams,
Go buy directly two grass-lambs;
One for the Earth, as black as crow,
One for the Sun, as white as snow: