A Burlesque Translation of Homer

Whilst thus the gipsy's praise they squeak,
The Trojan king began to speak:

Come hither, girl, I take a pride
To have thee chatter by my side.
Behold your friends, my dearest honey,
And take a view of your old crony.
'Tis not your fault: you're not the cause
Of half our bruises, kicks, and blows.
The gods, they say, are in a pet;
And when they're once on mischief set
The devil cannot keep 'em down,
Till they've demolish'd some old town;
And for nine years, I plainly see,
They have been grumbling hard at me.
But tell us, who's that swinging fellow
That struts so fierce? he's drest in yellow,
And cocks his hat with such a pinch,
He looks a soldier ev'ry inch.

Helen replies, Although, good Priam,
No woman's better kiss'd than I am,
Yet I could wish I had been hang'd,
Or at a whipping-post well bang'd,
Ere I away with Paris ran,
And cuckolded an honest man:
My little girl most bitterly,
They tell me, for her mam doth cry:
I'm full of grief, if that would do;
But matters can't be mended now.

The gipsy, after this parade,
Thus to the good old Trojan said:
He whom to know my daddy seeks,
Is the great leader of the Greeks:

His fame is known both near and far,
To scold in peace, and kick in war:
My brother he was call'd, before
Your son and I turn'd rogue and whore:
To call him so I'm now asham'd,
And even blush to hear him nam'd.

Is that Atrides, quoth the king?
To me he seems the very thing:
I'm told he is, or grave or mellow,
In peace or war, a clever fellow.
Amongst the Phrygians I have been.
But ne'er a tighter fellow seen.
When Otreus sat upon their throne,
And Migdon led their hang-dogs on,
I and my Trojans join'd the roysters;
Where, by the help of cod and oysters,
We laid, with many strokes and thwacks,
The Amazons upon their backs:
Yet those now standing in our sight
Are tighter fellows, by this light.
But tell me, Helen, if you can,
Who's that broad-breasted little man;
His shoulders large and widely spread,
But not so tall as th' last by th' head?
He is no serjeant, I've a notion;
Yet like a serjeant in his motion:
He seems to bustle much about him;
You'd swear they could not do without him.

Helen replies, My judgment misses,
If he you speak of ben't Ulysses.
Now that I take a better view,
'Tis he himself, I spy him now:
Let him be standing still, or running,
You'll hardly find his match for cunning;
He knows a thousand slipp'ry tricks,
But shines the most in politics.
Though from a barren isle he came,
The world's too little for his fame:
And, had he not been born a prince,
He'd been prime minister long since.

Antenor told the king, he knew
What Helen said was very true.
When Atreus' son and he came over,
This coaxing baggage to recover,
Men of great worth they seem'd to be,
I therefore let 'em lodge with me:
I knew them both before that day,
And knew they could their reck'ning pay.
Whene'er we chatted o'er a can
Of flip, with care I mark'd each man.
Atrides standing, look'd the best,
'Cause he was mostly better drest:
Seated, Ulysses reverence drew;
On breech he gave the clearest view.
Atrides was no man of tongue;
His speech was good, though never long:
But when Ulysses 'gan to speak,
You never heard so queer a Greek;
He'd fix his eyes upon the ground,
As if a speech could there be found;
Look'd foolish, though he knew no tongue