THE ELEVENTH BOOK OF HOMER'S ILIAD.
ARGUMENT.
The Grecian chief his jacket put on,
Though there was not a single button,
Either of horn, or metal cast,
Remain'd upon't, to make it fast.
Yet, as they could not do without him,
He tied it with a cord about him;
Not a grand swashy green or red cord,
But an old rotten piece of bed-cord;
Then don'd a pair of piss-burnt brogues on,
And went to lead his ragged rogues on;—
Whilst Hector, ever bold and steady,
Soon got his trusty Trojans ready.
For signal, two celestial strumpets
Employ their tongues instead of trumpets.
Jove thunder'd too, but all the sound
In their superior noise was drown'd;
For such a din they made at starting,
His thunder sounded just like farting.
And now, whilst Agamemnon mauls 'em,
And with his crab-tree cudgel galls 'em,
Jove call'd for Iris, to direct her
To go and caution bully Hector
To let this Grecian bruiser roam,
Till some chance knock should send him home.
Then Hector makes a woeful rout.
And kicks the Grecians all about;
Whome'er he hit, he surely dropp'd him,
Till Diom. and Ulysses stopp'd him;
Stopp'd for a while, but 'twas not much,
For Diomede soon got a touch,
Which made the bully limp away,
And leave Ulysses in the fray,
Who got, unless the poet lies,
A broken rib and two black eyes;
When Menelau, and Ajax stout,
Came apropos to help him out.
Hector for Ajax went to seek,
But found his nob too hard to break.
Whilst thus each other's bones they whack
Paris—had almost lam'd their quack;
Nestor at this, without delay,
Drives both himself and quack away.
Achilles, who was looking out
To see what work they were about,
Sends his companion to inquire
What made old grizzle-beard retire.
The threshold he had scarce set foot on,
When Nestor seiz'd him by the button;
In that condition did he hold him,
Till he had two long stories told him,
How cocks and bulls, when he was young,
Would fight like devils all day long.
But still the aim of this old whelp
Was but to gain Achilles' help,
Or, if he would not come to blows,
To lend Patroclus his thick clothes.
Patroclus then his best legs put on,
Glad he'd so well releas'd his button,
And met Euryp'lus as he went
Limping along to reach his tent;
Though he just then was running faster
Than penny-postman, this disaster
Stay'd him till he had spread a plaster.
HOMER'S ILIAD.
BOOK XI.
And now the Morn, with yellow locks,
From Tithon's hammock stuff'd with flocks,
Arose, to show both gods and men
That day was coming once again,
To glad the hearts of those with light
Whose conscience could not bear the night;
Lawyers, attorneys, bawds, and pimps,
Born to replenish hell with imps,
A race whose own reflection frets 'em,
And damns 'em ere the devil gets 'em;
When Jove, the constable of heav'n,
Willing to keep things pretty even,
A scolding quean, one Eris, seeks,
And sends her down to help the Greeks;
Her tongue he knew there was no holding,
She storms and tempests rais'd with scolding.
Away then flies the noisy witch,
With a long roll well soak'd in pitch,
The torch of discord call'd by Jove,
And all the people else above;
But if to me you'll yield belief,
'Twas nothing but a lawyer's brief,
Drawn for the plaintiff, and at th' end on't
Was tied another for th' defendant.
This stuff the goddess Discord thinks
The best materials for her links;
So, long ago, has ceas'd to spin,
And buys her gear at Lincoln's-Inn.
One of these torches Eris drew
Along the sky as down she flew,
Which forty thousand sparkles shed,
And mark'd the road she came all red;
Then fix'd upon Ulysses' boat,
And there began to tune her throat,
Bawling a song to suit the case,
To which her bum play'd thorough-bass,
But made such thund'ring as she trump'd,
Both Ajax and Achilles jump'd,
Though their two boats could not be under
Three miles at least, or four, asunder.
Then through the fleet she inspires each chief,
And strews the ashes of the brief.
Such rancour now the varlets fills,
They all look'd fierce as Bobadils;
The rogues that readiest stood to run
As soon as slaps o' th' chaps begun,
Now d—n their eyes, and make a rout,
And strut, and kick their hats about.
Great Agamemnon first did start out,
And roar'd as if he'd roar his heart out;
Then set th' example, and begun
To put his fighting doublet on.
His legs he thought there were some doubts on,
So whipp'd a pair of large jack-boots on,
Borrow'd that morning by his surgeon,
Of Foote's bold-hearted Major Sturgeon;
Then went and fetch'd his basket-hilt,
And o'er his bosom hung a quilt,
A lousy quilt, although the thing
Was giv'n him by a brother-king;
Though from a king, says Doctor Swift,
A man may get a lousy gift;
But being stuff'd with rags and flocks,
It kept his stomach free from knocks.
On it was painted such a dragon
As few sign-painters e'er could brag on;
St. George's dragon on the sign
At Stamford, where they sell good wine,
Would, I am sure, compar'd to that,
Appear a common tabby cat.
O'er all he tied a belt of buff-skin,
Or doe, or tup, or some such tough skin,
Such as our northern carriers fold
About their loins to keep out cold.
A potlid hung upon his arm,
To guard his ribs from taking harm.
And all around, in various places,
Were grinning chaps and wry-mouth'd faces;
But in the middle part, to make
The Trojans run, he plac'd a snake.