Mr. Cooke's Original Poems with Imitations and Translations of Several Select Passages of the Antients, In Four Parts: To which are added Proposals For perfecting the English Language |
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| THE EPISODE of Thersites, Translated From the second Book of the ILIAD of HOMER. |
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 | Mr. Cooke's Original Poems |  |
241
THE EPISODE of Thersites, Translated From the second Book of the ILIAD of HOMER.
245
THERSITES, From the second Book of the Iliad.
The Rest appeas'd sat from Contention free;
Thersites clamour'd much, and only he;
Of no immod'rate Use of Words asham'd,
Grossly he wrangled with, and idly blam'd,
The kingly Pow'rs; and, when he Silence broke,
Rash and ungraceful were the Words he spoke.
Much was the Wretch of scurril Language vain,
Provoking Laughter in the Greecian Train:
He was the vilest that to Ilium came:
Distorted were his Eyes, one Foot was lame;
His Breast contracted to his Shoulders join'd,
His Shoulders rising in a Bunch behind;
His Head sharp ended in a piked Crown;
Thin flourish'd on the Scalp the Hairs like Down.
He hated much the Leader of the Host,
But great Achilles and Ulysses most;
With whom he wrangled much; and, void of Dread,
He loud and shrill aspers'd and sov'reign Head.
The Greeks, with Rage and Indignation stung,
Hear'd his unruly Libertys of Tongue;
Yet unappal'd the Wretch his Venom flings,
Outrageous thus, against the King of Kings.
Thersites clamour'd much, and only he;
Of no immod'rate Use of Words asham'd,
Grossly he wrangled with, and idly blam'd,
The kingly Pow'rs; and, when he Silence broke,
Rash and ungraceful were the Words he spoke.
246
Provoking Laughter in the Greecian Train:
He was the vilest that to Ilium came:
Distorted were his Eyes, one Foot was lame;
His Breast contracted to his Shoulders join'd,
His Shoulders rising in a Bunch behind;
His Head sharp ended in a piked Crown;
Thin flourish'd on the Scalp the Hairs like Down.
247
But great Achilles and Ulysses most;
248
He loud and shrill aspers'd and sov'reign Head.
The Greeks, with Rage and Indignation stung,
Hear'd his unruly Libertys of Tongue;
Yet unappal'd the Wretch his Venom flings,
Outrageous thus, against the King of Kings.
Say whence, Atrides, thy Complaints arise?
What wants our Monarch that a Greek denys?
With massive Brass thy Tents full crouded shine,
And num'rous the selected Beautys thine;
Of which we Greeks first make the Choice thy own,
When rich with Spoils we leave a conquer'd Town.
Say if the Lust of Gold torments our King,
Which some rich Trojan shall from Ilium bring,
The Price of Ransom for his fav'rite Boy,
Whom I myself will Captive lead from Troy;
Or let our Chief some other Greek employ:
Or burns your Bosom with a new rais'd Flame,
For the Possession of a blooming Dame?
Endeavours thus our Leader to encrease,
O! Shame! the Troubles of the Sons of Greece!
No longer Men, degen'rate female Race,
Quick measure back the Seas, and fly Disgrace;
Here let us leave him, leave him to enjoy
The large Divisions he has gain'd in Troy:
'E're long our Absence shall instruct his Pride
Of what Importance were our Arms ally'd.
On one, in whom a braver Spirit reigns,
He heap'd Dishonour, and his Prize detains;
But now Achilles tamely bears the pass'd,
Or this Affront, O! King, had been thy last.
What wants our Monarch that a Greek denys?
249
And num'rous the selected Beautys thine;
Of which we Greeks first make the Choice thy own,
When rich with Spoils we leave a conquer'd Town.
Say if the Lust of Gold torments our King,
Which some rich Trojan shall from Ilium bring,
The Price of Ransom for his fav'rite Boy,
Whom I myself will Captive lead from Troy;
Or let our Chief some other Greek employ:
Or burns your Bosom with a new rais'd Flame,
For the Possession of a blooming Dame?
Endeavours thus our Leader to encrease,
O! Shame! the Troubles of the Sons of Greece!
250
Quick measure back the Seas, and fly Disgrace;
Here let us leave him, leave him to enjoy
The large Divisions he has gain'd in Troy:
'E're long our Absence shall instruct his Pride
Of what Importance were our Arms ally'd.
On one, in whom a braver Spirit reigns,
He heap'd Dishonour, and his Prize detains;
But now Achilles tamely bears the pass'd,
Or this Affront, O! King, had been thy last.
251
Thersites grouling thus his Mind betray'd
Against Atrides whom the Greeks obey'd;
Ulysses then the sharp Rebuke began,
Who, rising, sternly view'd the reptil Man.
Against Atrides whom the Greeks obey'd;
Ulysses then the sharp Rebuke began,
Who, rising, sternly view'd the reptil Man.
Here screaking Brawler let thy Clamours end;
Nor longer singly with the Kings contend:
Not one of all the Greeks, the num'rous Band,
Who with th'Atrides left their native Land,
Not one of all this Host, our Arms employ
Viler than thee against the Walls of Troy;
Yet shall a Wretch like you, all void of Shame,
The Flight encourage, and the Kings defame.
You, while the Sons of Greece to act delay,
Uncertain whether to return or stay,
In Scandal busy waste your Hours away.
E'en now the King of Men your Slander bears,
Because the Prizes with the Chiefs he shares;
Their Gifts with Joy on him bestow'd they see;
What but Detraction has he had from thee?
Mark well my Words: when first I hear again
Thy Tongue indulging this licentious Strain,
That Moment may this Head my Trunc disjoin,
And may Telemachus no more be mine,
If I forbear to rend thy Robes away,
And leave thee naked to the Eye of Day;
Hence to the Fleet, with this correcting Hand,
I'll lash thee roaring from th'assembled Band.
Nor longer singly with the Kings contend:
252
Who with th'Atrides left their native Land,
Not one of all this Host, our Arms employ
Viler than thee against the Walls of Troy;
Yet shall a Wretch like you, all void of Shame,
The Flight encourage, and the Kings defame.
You, while the Sons of Greece to act delay,
Uncertain whether to return or stay,
In Scandal busy waste your Hours away.
E'en now the King of Men your Slander bears,
Because the Prizes with the Chiefs he shares;
Their Gifts with Joy on him bestow'd they see;
What but Detraction has he had from thee?
Mark well my Words: when first I hear again
Thy Tongue indulging this licentious Strain,
253
And may Telemachus no more be mine,
If I forbear to rend thy Robes away,
And leave thee naked to the Eye of Day;
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I'll lash thee roaring from th'assembled Band.
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Ulysses spoke, and made the Dastard cowr
Beneath the Ensign of the sov'reign Pow'r:
A bloody Tumour rises from the Blow;
The Caitiff trembles, and his Eyebrims flow;
With inward Grief, silenc'd alone by Fear,
Forlorn he sat, and wip'd the falling Tear.
The Sons of Battel, who th'Assembly crown'd,
Forgot their Sorrows, and the Laugh went round.
Beneath the Ensign of the sov'reign Pow'r:
256
The Caitiff trembles, and his Eyebrims flow;
With inward Grief, silenc'd alone by Fear,
Forlorn he sat, and wip'd the falling Tear.
The Sons of Battel, who th'Assembly crown'd,
Forgot their Sorrows, and the Laugh went round.
257
TYRTÆUS on MARTIAL Virtue.
To the Duke of Marlborough.
To thee, departed Chief, this Debt I pay,
The Song of Justice, and no venal Lay.
Thy martial Virtues, each advent'rous Deed,
A Tyrant humbled, and a Kingdom freed,
Thy Name above preceding Heros raise,
Excite our Wonder, and demand our Praise.
For thee, immortal Shade, the Lyre is strung
To Strains which erst the brave Tyrtæus sung;
Whose Verse the Youth of Lacedæmon fir'd,
And to the Fight the Blood of Age inspir'd;
O! had he liv'd thy mighty Acts to tell,
How had the Battel rag'd, the valiant fell!
Thee had we seen in thy triumphant Car,
And round thee all the Virtues of the War:
But Nature gave him to a grateful Age,
That saw the Beautys of the Warrior's Page.
Thus the bless'd Bard began the martial Strain,
And to his Country sung, nor sung in vain.
The Song of Justice, and no venal Lay.
Thy martial Virtues, each advent'rous Deed,
A Tyrant humbled, and a Kingdom freed,
Thy Name above preceding Heros raise,
Excite our Wonder, and demand our Praise.
For thee, immortal Shade, the Lyre is strung
To Strains which erst the brave Tyrtæus sung;
Whose Verse the Youth of Lacedæmon fir'd,
And to the Fight the Blood of Age inspir'd;
O! had he liv'd thy mighty Acts to tell,
How had the Battel rag'd, the valiant fell!
Thee had we seen in thy triumphant Car,
And round thee all the Virtues of the War:
But Nature gave him to a grateful Age,
That saw the Beautys of the Warrior's Page.
Thus the bless'd Bard began the martial Strain,
And to his Country sung, nor sung in vain.
258
“No Place he merits in recording Song,
“Whose only Boast is that he's swift and strong,
“Not tho in Might he with the Cyclops vys,
“And from the Goal swift as the Wind he flys,
“Nor he whom Nature, with indulgent Care,
“Has form'd more graceful than Tithonus fair,
“Not tho he hoards of Cinyras the Store,
“And to him Midas, wealthy Prince, is poor;
“Nor o'er Dominions large who greater reigns
“Than Pelops, Monarch of the Phrygian Plains;
“Nor he who sweeter than Adrastus spoke,
“Who forc'd Attention when he Silence broke:
“All human Glory let him proudly gain,
“To me all Glory but of War is vain.
“Whose only Boast is that he's swift and strong,
“Not tho in Might he with the Cyclops vys,
“And from the Goal swift as the Wind he flys,
“Nor he whom Nature, with indulgent Care,
“Has form'd more graceful than Tithonus fair,
“Not tho he hoards of Cinyras the Store,
“And to him Midas, wealthy Prince, is poor;
“Nor o'er Dominions large who greater reigns
“Than Pelops, Monarch of the Phrygian Plains;
“Nor he who sweeter than Adrastus spoke,
“Who forc'd Attention when he Silence broke:
“All human Glory let him proudly gain,
“To me all Glory but of War is vain.
“He is not form'd for Arms, the Soldier's Pride,
“Who shudders when he views the sanguine Tyde:
“'Tis brave where Slaughter rages most to stand,
“And with the Foreman grapple Hand to Hand:
“This Virtue is, and this the foremost Praise;
“And this to Fame the glowing Youth shall raise.
“Who shudders when he views the sanguine Tyde:
“'Tis brave where Slaughter rages most to stand,
“And with the Foreman grapple Hand to Hand:
“This Virtue is, and this the foremost Praise;
“And this to Fame the glowing Youth shall raise.
“The Voice of Honour is a gen'ral Call,
“The Scene of Battel open lys to all;
“The City there the Townsman may defend,
“And prove, in Danger, most her faithful Friend.
“May none inlist and then ignobly fly,
“But boldly face the War nor fear to dy.
“The Man who dauntless can resign his Breath,
“And animate his Friend to rush on Death,
“Is form'd for Arms; him Glory calls afar
“To shine illustrious in the Garb of War;
“He the dread Phalanx shall compel to Flight,
“And drive impetuous, like the Waves, the Fight.
“See the brave Man in the first Ranks expire,
“Boast of his Country, and his aged Sire!
“His bleeding Breast declares he nobly fell,
“And the pierc'd Shield and wounded Corslet tell.
“Their Hero dead the hoary Sires deplore,
“And the Youth grieve who know'd no Grief before;
“From all her Eyes the City mourns the slain,
“And follows to the Grave a dismal Train;
“All Men his Tomb, all Men his Sons, adore,
“And his Son's Sons, till they shall be no more:
“His fair Renown shall never fade away,
“Nor shall the Mention of his Name decay,
“Who glorious falls beneath the Conqu'rer's Hand
“For his dear Children and his native Land;
“Tho to the Dust his mortal Part we give,
“His Fame, in Triumph o'er the Grave, shall live.
“The Scene of Battel open lys to all;
“The City there the Townsman may defend,
“And prove, in Danger, most her faithful Friend.
259
“But boldly face the War nor fear to dy.
“The Man who dauntless can resign his Breath,
“And animate his Friend to rush on Death,
“Is form'd for Arms; him Glory calls afar
“To shine illustrious in the Garb of War;
“He the dread Phalanx shall compel to Flight,
“And drive impetuous, like the Waves, the Fight.
“See the brave Man in the first Ranks expire,
“Boast of his Country, and his aged Sire!
“His bleeding Breast declares he nobly fell,
“And the pierc'd Shield and wounded Corslet tell.
“Their Hero dead the hoary Sires deplore,
“And the Youth grieve who know'd no Grief before;
“From all her Eyes the City mourns the slain,
“And follows to the Grave a dismal Train;
“All Men his Tomb, all Men his Sons, adore,
“And his Son's Sons, till they shall be no more:
“His fair Renown shall never fade away,
“Nor shall the Mention of his Name decay,
“Who glorious falls beneath the Conqu'rer's Hand
“For his dear Children and his native Land;
“Tho to the Dust his mortal Part we give,
“His Fame, in Triumph o'er the Grave, shall live.
260
“If with Success he wards the fatal Blow,
“And home returns safe from the vanquish'd Foe,
“The young and old their grateful Homage pay
“To him, the Victor of the well-fought Day:
“Uninterrupted Joys his Hours attend,
“And in Abundance wait him to his End;
“His Glory all consult, and all his Peace;
“And lo! his Honours with his Days encrease;
“Him, proud to rev'rence, shall the noblest grace,
“And to their Soldier rise in ev'ry Place;
“Each Sex, and ev'ry Age, of all Degrees,
“Fear to offend him, and rejoice to please.
“And home returns safe from the vanquish'd Foe,
“The young and old their grateful Homage pay
“To him, the Victor of the well-fought Day:
“Uninterrupted Joys his Hours attend,
“And in Abundance wait him to his End;
“His Glory all consult, and all his Peace;
“And lo! his Honours with his Days encrease;
“Him, proud to rev'rence, shall the noblest grace,
“And to their Soldier rise in ev'ry Place;
“Each Sex, and ev'ry Age, of all Degrees,
“Fear to offend him, and rejoice to please.
“Who to this Height of Virtue hopes to rise,
“Must Toil, must Danger, and must Death, despise;
“Undaunted he must take the martial Field,
“In Resolution strong, untaught to yield.
“Must Toil, must Danger, and must Death, despise;
“Undaunted he must take the martial Field,
“In Resolution strong, untaught to yield.
261
ANACREON. Ode the First.
On his Lyre.
Cadmus or th'Atrides IFain would sing, but when I try,
Strains, which flow from soft Desire,
Warble from the wanton Lyre.
The rebellious Strings I chang'd:
O'er them quick my Fingers rang'd.
I th'heroic Theme renew'd,
Hercules, thy Toils, pursued:
Lo! the Strings rebel again,
And return a softer Strain.
Farewel Heros, Arms adieu:
Love to thee my Lyre is true.
262
ANACREON To the Grasshopper.
Grasshopper, we hail thee bless'd,In thy lofty shady Nest,
Happy, merry, as a King,
Siping Dew, you sip and sing.
Cast an Eye around the Field;
All is thine the Seasons yield.
Lo! the Husbandmen rejoice,
When they hear thy friendly Voice;
Mortals to thee Homage pay,
Prophet of the Summer's Day.
Fav'rite of the tuneful Throng,
Of the Nine, and God of Song,
Phœbus gives thee, such his Will,
Voice to sing so sweetly shrill.
Ever young, with Plenty bless'd,
Like the Gods thy State of Rest.
263
An EPIGRAM From the GREEK.
From Beauty's Queen, and Bacchus ever young,The Gout an Offspring maim'd and crippled sprung.
264
ACCIUS.
A Fragment of Accius, preserved in Cicero's second Book concerning the Nature of the Gods. A Shepherd, who never saw a Ship before, is represented as seeing, from a Mountain where he stood, the Vessel of the Argonauts.
What horrid Bulk is that before my Eyes,Which o'er the Deep with Noise and Vigour flys!
It turns the Whirlpools up, its Force so strong,
And drives the Billows as it rolls along.
The Ocean's Violence it fiercely braves,
Runs furious on, and throws about the Waves,
Swiftly impetuous in its Course, and loud,
Like the dire bursting of a show'ry Cloud,
Or like a Rock, forc'd by the Winds and Rain,
Now whirl'd aloft, then plung'd into the Main:
265
And fiercely wage an elemental War,
Or Triton with his Trident has o'erthrown
His Den, and loosen'd from the Roots the Stone,
The rocky Fragment from the Bottom torn,
Is lifted up, and on the Surface borne.
| Mr. Cooke's Original Poems | |