ARGUMENT.
Jove calls his under-strappers round him,
And in a dev'lish rage they found him.
Says he, I bade ye hither come,
To charge ye all to stay at home;
Go play at put, or loo, or brag,
But don't a single finger wag
To help yond' rascals that are fratching,
And, monkey-like, each other scratching.
Whoe'er offends, observe me well,
I'll broil the scoundrel's ears in hell.
Yet did that scratching, kicking brim,
The jade Minerva, wheedle him,
In spite of this hot blust'ring fit,
To let her help the Greeks a bit
With good advice, lest they should fall
To running off for good and all.
No sooner had the mortal varlets
Begun to squabble 'bout their harlots,
Bumping each others' guts and sides,
When Jove away to Ida rides:
There borrowing C—-x the grocer's scales,
He weighs:—the Trojan luck prevails:
On which, with thunder, hail, and rain,
He smok'd the Grecians off the plain.
Old Nestor only chose to stay,
Because he could not run away;
But Diomede soon brought him help,
And sav'd this queer old chatt'ring whelp.
Then Juno, ever restless, seeks
To make old Neptune help her Greeks:
Neptune, who knew the wheedling witch,
Answers her bluntly, No, you bitch!
Teucer comes next, his art to show;
He shot a special good long bow:
But Hector stops the knave's career,
And sent him with a flea in's ear.
Pallas and Juno steal away
To help the Grecians in the fray:
But quickly Iris made 'em pack
To heaven in a hurry back.
Now whilst they sweat, the goddess Night
Jump'd up to part the bloody fight,
Although, ere she could part 'em all,
The Greeks were drove behind their wall.
The Trojans burn good fires all night,
For fear the Grecians in their fright
Should think it proper, ere 'twas day,
To launch their boats and run away.
And whilst he to the supple gang,
Like Harry, made a short harangue.
They ey'd him all with fearful look,
And their teeth chatter'd as he spoke.
HOMER'S ILIAD.
BOOK VIII.
Aurora was the skies adorning,
Or, in plain English, it was morning,
When crusty Jove, who never tarried
Long in his bed, for he was married,
Call'd all his counsellors of state
Some weighty matters to debate;
And whilst he to the supple gang,
Like Harry[[1]], made a short harangue,
They ey'd him all with fearful look,
And their teeth chatter'd as he spoke.
Ye sniv'ling rogues with hanging looks,
Ye cringing barons, earls, and dukes,
Good heed to what I utter take ye,
Or, by the living G-d, I'll make ye:
Don't think, ye whelps, that ye shall find
Me fool enough to change my mind
For aught that you, or you, or you,
Or any whore or rogue can do.
Therefore, if any meddling knave
Attempts a single soul to save,
Or lends his help to either side,
Flux me if I don't tan his hide!
He shall receive from some strong tar
Three dozen at the capstan bar;
Or, in my furious wrath, pell-mell,
I'll kick the scoundrel down to hell;
To red-hot brazen doors I'll hook him,
And like a rat with brimstone smoke him.
Join all together, if ye will,
And try your utmost strength and skill;
As easily I can ye souse
As nitty tailors crack a louse.
But if you choose with me to cope,
I'll let you down this good new rope;
Hang at one end both great and small,
And add to that Westminster-Hall,
Judges and lawyers all together:
This hand can lift 'em like a feather;
Though in that place I know 'tis said
There's many a solid heavy head.
'Twas thus the moody Thund'rer spoke
And all the crew like aspin shook.
Yet, for all this, that cunning jade,
His bastard by a chamber-maid
(Although, to hum his wife, he said
She jump'd one morning from his head),
Maugre his blust'ring and his strutting,
Ventur'd a word or two to put in.
Says Pallas, I am sure they are
Confounded stupid dogs that dare
Oppose your worship's will; such blocks
Ought to be flogg'd, or set i' th' stocks;
But don't be angry if I stickle
To help the Greeks in this sad pickle.
And though you'll lend us some hard knocks,
If we on either side should box,
Yet let Minerva's counsel, pray,
Advise 'em when to run away;
Else they may gaze and stare about
Till they get all their teeth knock'd out.
Old Square-toes smil'd, and told the jade,
She need not be so much afraid;
For though he knew it did her good
To move and circulate her blood,
And therefore now-and-then might stir her,
Yet he'd a mighty kindness for her,
As ev'ry bastard-getting knave
That's married, for their bastards have,
More than for children got in strife
Upon their lawful scolding wife:
Then bid his nags, with hoofs of brass,
And sorrel manes, be fetch'd from grass.
These tits, one Friday afternoon,
Jove purchas'd of a Yorkshire loon
In Smithfield, with great care, and yet
Got most abominably bit;
Neither of those he laid his hand on
Had got a single foot to stand on.
These tits, one Friday afternoon,
Jove purchas'd of a Yorkshire loon
In Smithfield, with great care, and yet
Got most abominably bit.—