A Burlesque Translation of Homer. Francis Grose

      Soon as the youth the cuckold saw,

      As guilt will ever feel an awe,

      In spite of all that he could say,

      He found his legs would run away:

      Then, since the matter turn'd out so,

      'Twas best, he thought, to let 'em go;

      So turn'd about, and in a crack

      They brought their master safely back;

      And, as he puff'd along, we find him

      Not daring once to look behind him.

      As when a bumpkin sees a snake

      Come slyly stealing from the brake,

      He starts, and looks confounded cunning,

      But quickly saves himself by running:

      So this young beau the cuckold shuns,

      And 'mongst his trusty Trojans runs.

      This the bold Hector could not bear;

      He thought he ran away for fear —

      Without considering, now and then

      The very best and boldest men

      Cannot their members so command

      To make 'em at all seasons stand.

      Be that as't may; with accent grave

      He thus began to scold the knave:

      Paris, says he, you're but a cheat,

      And only dare the wenches meet;

      But though a man you dare not face,

      Yet, when the fight becomes a chase,

      You'd beat a thousand in the race.

      I wish, ere Nelly thou hadst felt,

      Thou'dst broke thy neck, or hadst been gelt:

      Better by half than thus to bully,

      Then run away from such a cully.

      The Greeks all swear thou art besh-t,

      And their fat sides with laughing split.

      Thou look a soldier! thou be d – d!

      The Grecians cannot be so flamm'd.

      When thy fine long-boats went to Greece

      To steal away this precious piece;

      Say, did'st thou, in thy first attack

      On Helen's freehold, thus give back?

      Joy to thy foes, shame to thy race,

      Thy father's grief, and Troy's disgrace,

      Recover thy lost credit soon,

      And stoutly stand by what you've done;

      Or else all Troy, as well as me,

      Thy buxom wench will plainly see

      Belongs a better man than thee.

      Take heed, Troy may awake at last,

      And make thee pay for all that's past.

      Here Paris blush'd – a sign of grace;

      Nor durst he look in Hector's face:

      Then answers, By my soul, you're right

      But who like you can preach and fight?

      I know you're made of best of steel,

      And box as if you could not feel.

      You have your gifts, and I have mine:

      Where each may in his province shine.

      Smite you the men; I smite the wenches,

      And seldom fail to storm their trenches.

      Don't you despise the lover's charms:

      They're Venus' gift, her powerful arms.

      A good strong back, and proper measure

      Of love, to give the fair ones pleasure,

      Are blessings, which the gods bestow

      Only to favourites below.

      Yet, if it please thee, I will stand

      This cuckold's combat hand to hand:

      His mutton-fist bold Paris scorns,

      He only fears his branching horns;

      Should he receive from these a wound,

      Our quack can never make him sound.

      But go, explain the matter fully,

      And I will box this Spartan bully.

      My pretty Nelly shall be set

      For him that doth the conquest get:

      Her swelling breasts and matchless eyes

      Shall be the lucky conqu'ror's prize:

      Then Troy and Greece, in any weather,

      May smoke a sober pipe together.

      This challenge pleas'd, and Hector quick

      Stopp'd all the Trojans with his stick;

      Next to the foe, with Spanish pace,

      Advanc'd, to let them know the case.

      The Greeks, like coward sons of whores,

      Threw bricks and cobble-stones in show'rs.

      Atrides soon the tumult spies:

      Give o'er, ye silly dogs! he cries;

      'Tis Hector comes, if I am right,

      To talk a little, not to fight:

      I know him by his breadth of chest,

      I know his skull-cap's always drest

      With goose quills of the very best:

      Then be not in such woeful splutter,

      But hear what Hector has to utter.

      At this rebuke they threw no more:

      The tumult ceas'd; the fray was o'er:

      His eyes the bully Trojan roll'd,

      And briefly thus his story told:

      Hear, all ye warriors, fam'd for toils,

      In civil feuds and drunken broils:

      Paris demands you now forbear

      To kick and cuff, and curse and swear;

      But on the ground your cudgels throw,

      And stick your broomstaves on a row:

      Let Troy and Greece but sit 'em down,

      Paris will fight this Spartan loon;

      The charming Helen shall be set,

      For him that shall the conquest get;

      Her snowy breasts and matchless eyes

      Shall be the lucky conqu'ror's prize:

      Then Troy and Greece, in any weather,

      May smoke a sober pipe together.

      He spoke; and for six minutes good,

      With mouths half-cock'd, both armies stood:

      When Menelaus thus began:

      Bold Hector offers like a man,

      And I the challenge will accept;

      As freely as I ever slept.

      Hector, perhaps, may think I won't,

      But singe my whiskers if I don't!

      I know, my lads, you fight for me,

      And in my quarrel cross'd the sea.

      I thank you,

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