Francis Grose - A Burlesque Translation of Homer

After you've suffer'd such disgrace,
How dare you look in Helen's face?
What wench, now thou hast lost thine honour,
Will let thee lay a leg upon her?
Perhaps you think I'll suffer you
To toy, but split me if I do;
Not I, by Jove. Are all thy brags,
Of beating Menelaus to rags,
Come off with this? Once more go try
Thy strength – But what a fool am I!
A stripling thou, a giant he;
At single gulp he'd swallow thee.
Then venture into scrapes no more;
But, since thou'rt safe, e'en shut the door.

Paris replies, Good dame, ha' done;
We can't recall the setting sun:
Though your old cuckold-pated whelp,
By that damn'd brim Minerva's help,
Did win this match, the next that's try'd
I'll lay the odds I trim his hide.
But haste, my girl, let's buckle to't,
And mind the business we're about:
I ne'er before had such desire;
My heart and pluck are both on fire:
Just now I've far more appetite,
Than when with you, that merry night,
In Cranse's isle, to work we buckled,
And dubb'd your bluff-fac'd husband cuckold.

This speech no sooner had he made,
But up he jump'd upon the bed;
Where Nelly soon resign'd her charms.
And sunk into the varlet's arms:
Around her waist he never caught her,
But it in special temper brought her.

Whilst thus they up and down engage,
The Greek was in a bloody rage;
He like a pointer rang'd about,
To try to find the younker out,
And peep'd in ev'ry hole and corner,
In hopes to spy this Mr. Horner;
(Nor would the Trojans, not to wrong 'em,
Have screen'd him, had he been among 'em)
But the bawd Venus took good care
He should not find him far or near.
Then Agamemnon from his breech
Lifted himself, and made this speech:

Ye Dardans and ye Trojans trusty,
Whose swords we keep from being rusty,
You plainly see the higher powers
Determine that the day is ours;
For Menelaus sure has beat him,
And may, for aught we know, have eat him,
As not a man upon the spot,
Can tell us where the rogue is got:
If therefore Helen you'll restore,
We'll take her, be she wife or whore,
With all her clothes and other gear,
Adding a sum for wear and tear:
The wear, a female broker may
Settle in less than half a day;
But for the tear, no mortal elf
Can judge so well as Mene's self.
If Troy will pay a fine so just,
And that they will, I firmly trust,
We'll leave this curs'd unlucky shore,
And swear to trouble you no more.

With mighty shouts the Grecians each
Vow 'tis a very noble speech;
That every single word was right;
And swore the Trojans should stand by't.

With solemn phiz, about the fate
Of Troy the gods deliberate;
And long dispute the matter, whether
To joul their loggerheads together,
Or make all farther scuffles cease,
And let them drink and whore in peace.
At last the gods agree nem. con.
To let the rascals squabble on:
Paris then jogs Lycaon's son
To knock poor Menelaus down;
And whilst the honest quack, Machaon,
A plaster spread the wound to lay on,
A dreadful noise of shouts and drumming
Forewarn'd the Greeks that Troy was coming.
The gen'ral now, the troops to settle,
And show himself a man of mettle,
In a great splutter runs about
To call their trusty leaders out,
Swaggers and bounces, kicks and cuffs,
Some serjeants praises, others huffs;
At last the roysters join in battle,
And clubs, and staves, and potlids rattle.

The watchman op'd the gates of heaven,
Just as the clock was striking seven;
When all the gods, with yawning faces,
To council came, and took their places.
Hebe prepar'd upon the spot
A jug of purl made piping hot,
Of which she gave each god a cup,
Who sup and blow, and blow and sup;
And whilst their time they thus employ,
Just slightly ask, What news from Troy?
When thus unlucky Jove, for fun,
To vex his ox-ey'd wife, begun:

Two scolding brims of royal blood
Assist the Greeks – if not, they should;
But, perch'd above, like daws they sit,
Nor they to help their friends think fit;
But, suff'ring Greece to go to ruin,
Content themselves with mischief brewing;
Whilst grateful Venus in the throng,
To aid her lecher, scours along;
With nimble bum, or nimbler wrist,
She guides his weapon where she list;
Knowing a touch of her soft hand,
If fallen down, will make him stand.

But, messmates, since we have begun,
'Tis time to fix what must be done.
The book of Fate then let us scan,
And view what is ordain'd for man;
That we about them may determine,
To kill, or keep alive, the vermin:
Say then, shall smiling peace ensue,
Or dreadful broils, with face of rue?
If now your godships think that Nelly
Should go and warm her husband's belly,
And Paris pay for doing work
Would glad the heart of Jew or Turk;
Why then the borough may stand firm
A thousand years, or any term;
May back recall its old renown,
And once more be a market-town.

Whilst thus he preach'd, his angry queen
With Pallas whispering was seen;
And as they jabber'd pate to pate,
Against poor Troy express'd their hate
The boxing vixen, though in wrath,
Yet holds her peace, and nothing saith;
Nor would, had Jove preach'd e'er so long,
For heavenly wisdom rul'd her tongue;
She prudent acts; not so Jove's wife,
Whose joy consists in noise and strife.

Begun: Don't think your dunder-pate
Shall use your queen at such a rate:
On whoring Troy I've made just war;
Have rous'd my Grecians near and far;
My post-chaise rattled many a mile,
My peacocks sweating all the while;
And all to bring destruction on
This perjur'd, lying, whoring 4 4 Whoring. You see Juno keeps continually harping on that word: we may judge from thence, she came in for small share of the labours of these whoring Trojans; but Venus did. There was one Anchises, a twice five-fingered Trojan, that (as old stories say) used to thrum her jacket. Æneas was the produce of their leisure hours. town.
But spouse my cares and toils derides;
Because they're rogues, he's on their sides;
To punish rogues in grain refuses,
And thus his loving wife abuses:
Though, if the gods will take my side,
In spite of Jove I'll trim their hide.

At this same speech you cannot wonder
The thunder-driver look'd like thunder:
He wav'd his locks, and fit to choke
With rage, he to his vixen spoke:

Why, how now, hussy! whence this hate
To Priam and the Trojan state?
Can mortal scoundrels thee perplex,
And the great brim of brimstones vex,
That thou should'st make such woeful pother,
And Troy's whole race desire to smother;
Then level, out of female spite,
Their spires, with weather-cocks so bright;
And all because that rogue on Ida
Fancy'd your mouth an inch too wide-a?
Pray how can I the varlet blame,
Who fifty times have thought the same? 5 5 The same. Here Juno overlooks a very severe rub of Jupiter's, because he directly gives her leave to satiate her revenge: had it not been for that, it is thought he would hardly have escaped without a scratched face at least, or perhaps the loss of an eye.
But for this once I'll give thee string
Enough, to let thy fury swing:
Burn the whole town; blow up the walls;
Destroy their shops and coblers' stalls:
Murder old Priam on the place,
And smother all his bastard race;
With his boil'd beef and cabbage glut
The fury of thy greedy gut.
Peace, then, perhaps I may enjoy
When there shall be no more of Troy:
But should I choose to be uncivil,
And send your scoundrels to the devil,
Don't think, good Mrs. Brim, that you
Shall hold my hand: remember how
I suffer harmless Troy to tumble,
To stop your everlasting grumble.
I tell thee, brim, of all I know
In heav'n above, or earth below,
Bastards of mortal rogues or gods,
I value Troy the most by odds:
No men on earth deserve my favour
Like Trojan boys, for good behaviour;
Because, whene'er they pay their vows,
They kill good store of bulls and cows;
Nor do they ever grudge the least,
To lend their daughters to the priest;
From whence it cannot be deny'd,
But true religion is their guide.