A REMINISCENCE OF TROY.
FROM THE SCHOLIAST.
It was the ninth year of the Trojan war—
A tedious pull at best:
A lot of us were sitting by the shore—
Tydides, Phocas, Castor, and the rest—
Some whittling shingles and some stringing bows,
And cutting up our friends, and cutting up our foes.
Down from the tents above there came a man,
Who took a camp-stool by Tydides’ side,
He joined our talk, and, pointing to the pan
Upon the embers where our pork was fried,
Said he would eat the onions and the leeks,
But that fried pork was food not fit for Greeks.
“Look at the men of Thebes,” he said, “and then
Look at those cowards in the plains below:
You see how ox-like are the ox-fed men;
You see how sheepish mutton-eaters grow.
Stick to this vegetable food of mine:
Men who eat pork grunt, root and sleep like swine.”
Some laughed, and some grew mad, and some grew red:
The pork was hissing; but his point was clear.
Still no one answered him, till Nestor said,
“One inference that I would draw is here:
You vegetarians, who thus educate us,
Thus far have turned out very small potatoes.”