Jove, or by fame he much bely'd is,
Sends off a Dream to hum Atrides:
His conscience telling him it meet is
To make his promise good to Thetis;
Gave it commission as it went,
To tell the cull by whom 'twas sent;
And bid it fill his head top full,
Of taking Troy, and cock and bull.
The Vision goes as it was bid,
And fairly turns the poor man's head,
Who eagerly began to stare
At castles building in the air,
And fancy'd, as the work went on,
He heard Troy's walls come tumbling down.
But ere he starts, he has an eye
The metal of his rogues to try:
He tells the chiefs, when he proposes
That homeward all shall point their noses,
They must take care, when he had sped,
To come and knock it all o' th' head.
The plot succeeds; they're glad to go;
But sly Ulysses answer'd, No;
Then drove his broomstick with a thwack
Upon Thersites' huckle back;
Check'd other scoundrels with a frown,
And knock'd the sauciest rascals down;
Proving, that at improper times
To speak the truth's the worst of crimes.
Th' assembly met; old Nestor preaches,
And all the chiefs, like schoolboys, teaches
Orders each diff'rent shire to fix
A rendezvous, nor longer mix,
But with their own bluff captains stay,
Whether they fight or run away:
And whilst thus gather'd in a cluster,
They nick the time, and make a muster.
The watch past twelve o'clock were roaring,
And citizens in bed were snoring,
And all the gods of each degree
Were snoring hard for company,
Whilst Jove, whose mind could get no ease,
Perplex'd with cares as well as fleas
(For cares he in his bosom carried,
As every creature must that's married),
Was plotting, since he had begun,
How he might honour Thetis' son;
And scratch'd, and scratch'd, but yet he could
Not find a method for his blood
To keep his word. At last he caught,
By scratching hard, a lucky thought
(And 'faith, I think, 'twas no bad scheme);
To send the Grecian chief a Dream,
Made of a Cloud, on which he put
A coat and waistcoat, ready cut
Out of the self-same kind of stuff,
But yet it suited well enough
To give it shape: Now, Mr. Dream,
Take care you keep the shape you seem,
Says Jove; then do directly go
To Agamemnon's tent below:
Tell him to arm his ragged knaves
With cudgels, spits, and quarter-staves,
Then instantly their time employ
To rattle down the walls of Troy.
Tell him, in this, Miss Destiny
And all the heav'nly crew agree:
For Juno has made such a riot,
The gods do aught to keep her quiet.
Away goes Dream upon the wing,
And stands before the snoring king:
Grave Nestor's coat and figure took,
As old as he, as wise his look,
Rubs the cull's noddle with his wings,
And, full of guile, thus small he sings:
Monarch, how canst thou sleeping lie,
When thou hast other fish to fry?
O Atreus' son, thou mighty warrior,
Whose father was a skilful farrier,
Hast thou no thought about decorum,
Who art the very head o'th' quorum?
I shame myself to think I'm catching
Thee fast asleep, instead of watching.
Is not all Greece pinn'd on thy lap?
Rise, and for once postpone thy nap,
Lest by some rogue it should be said,
The chief of chiefs went drunk to bed:
For Jove, by whom you are respected,
Says your affairs sh'an't be neglected;
So sends you word he now is poring
On your concerns, whilst you are snoring:
He bids thee arm thy ragged knaves
With cudgels, spits, and quarter-staves,
Then instantly thy time employ
To rattle down the walls of Troy:
To this, he adds, Miss Destiny
And all the heav'nly crew agree:
For Juno has made such a riot,
The gods do aught to keep her quiet.
Then nothing more this Nothing says,
But turn'd about, and went his ways.
Up starts the king, and with his nail
Scratch'd both his head, and back, and tail;
And all the while his fancy's tickl'd,
To think how Troy would soon be pickl'd.
A silly goose! he little knew
What surly Jove resolv'd to do;
What shoals of sturdy knaves must tumble
Before they could the Trojans humble.
Down on an ancient chopping-block
This mighty warrior clapp'd his dock
(The block, worn out with chopping meat,
Now made the chief a rare strong seat):
Then don'd his shirt with Holland cuff,
For, Frenchman-like, he lay in buff;
Next o'er his greasy doublet threw
A thread-bare coat that once was blue,
But dirt and time had chang'd its hue;
Slipp'd on his shoes, but lately cobbled,
And to the board of council hobbled;
But took his sword with brazen hilt,
And wooden sceptre finely gilt.
Now, Madam Morn popp'd up her face,
And told 'em day came on apace;
When Agamemnon's beadles rouse
The Greeks to hear this joyful news.
He long'd, like breeding wife, it seems,
To tell his tickling, pleasing dreams.
I' th' int'rim, trotting to the fleet,
Old Nestor there he chanc'd to meet,
Whose tent he borrows for that morn,
To make a council-chamber on;
And reason good he had, I ween,
It kept his own apartment clean.
Now all-hands met, he takes his time,
And told his case in prose or rhyme:
Friends, neighbours, and confed'rates bold,
Attend, whilst I my tale unfold:
As in my bed I lay last night,
I saw an odd-look'd kind of sprite;
It seem'd, grave Nestor, to my view,
Just such a queer old put as you —
'Tis fact, for all your surly look —
And this short speech distinctly spoke:
How canst thou, monarch, sleeping lie,
When thou hast other fish to fry?
O Atreus' son, thou mighty warrior,
Whose father was a special farrier
(Which, by the by, although 'tis true,
Yet I'd be glad you'd tell me how
This bushy-bearded spirit knew),
Hast thou no thought about decorum,
Who art the very head o' th' quorum?
I shame myself to think I'm catching
Thee fast asleep, instead of watching.
Is not all Greece pinn'd on thy lap?
Rise, and for once postpone thy nap;
Or by some rogue it will be said,
The chief of chiefs went drunk to bed:
For Jove, by whom you are respected,
Says your affairs sha'n't be neglected:
But now on your affair he's poring,
Whilst you lie f – ting here and snoring:
He bids thee arm thy ragged knaves
With cudgels, spits, and quarter-staves;
For now the time is come, he swears,
To pull Troy's walls about their ears:
Nay more, he adds, the gods agree
With Fate itself it thus shall be.
Jove and his queen have had their quantum
Of jaw, and such-like rantum-scantum:
She now puts on her best behaviours,
And they're as kind as incle-weavers.
Then nothing more the Vision said,
But kick'd me half way out of bed.
This very token did, I vow,
Convince me that the dream was true;
For, waking soon, I found my head
And shoulders on the floor were laid,
Whilst my long legs kept snug in bed:
Therefore, since Jove, with good intent,
So rare a messenger has sent,
We should directly, I've a notion,
Put all our jolly boys in motion:
But first, what think you if we settle
A scheme to try the scarecrows' mettle,
As with nine years they're worn to th' stumps?
I'll feign my kingship in the dumps
With Jove himself, and then propose
That homeward they direct their nose.
But take you care, if I succeed,
To show yourselves in time of need:
Swear you don't mind the gen'ral's clack,
But in a hurry drive 'em back.
He spoke, and squatting on his breech,
Square-toes got up and made a speech:
I think our chief would not beguile us,
Says the old constable of Pylos.
Had any soul though, but our leader,
For dreams and visions been a pleader,
I should, my boys, to say no worse,
Have call'd him an old guzzling nurse.
I seldom old wives' tales believe,
Nurses invent 'em to deceive.
But now there can be no disguise,
For kings should scorn to tell folks lies;
So let us e'en, with one accord,
Resolve to take his royal word:
For though the speech is queerish stuff,
'Tis the king's speech, and that's enough.
I therefore say, My buffs so stout,
Of this same vision make no doubt;
The tokens are so very clear,
There can be little room for fear.
Did not our monarch, as he said,
Feel the Dream kick him out of bed,
And, by his waking posture, knew
His sense of feeling told him true?
Then, since affairs so far are gone,
Let's put our fighting faces on.
He said; nor did they longer stay,
But from the council haste away.
The leaders bring their men along;
They still were many thousands strong;
As thick as gardens swarm with bees,
Or tailors' working-boards with fleas:
And Jove, for fear they should not all
Attend, and mind their general's call,
Bid Fame, a chatt'ring, noisy strumpet,
To sound her longest brazen trumpet:
This brought such numbers on the lawn,
The very earth was heard to groan,
Nine criers went to still their noise;
That they might hear their leader's voice.
He haw'd and hemm'd before he spoke,
Then rais'd his truncheon made of oak:
'Twas Vulcan's making, which Jove gave
To Mercury, a thieving knave;
Who going down to Kent to steal hops,
Resign'd his staff to carter Pelops;
From Pelops it to Atreus came;
He to Thyestes left the same,
Who kept it dry, lest rain should rot it,
And when he dy'd Atrides got it:
With this he rules the Greeks with ease,
Or breaks their noddles if he please;
Now leaning on't, he silence broke,
And with so grum an accent spoke,
Those people that the circle stood in,
Fancy'd his mouth was full of pudding.
Thus he began: We've got, my neighbours,
Finely rewarded for our labours:
On Jove, you know, we have rely'd,
And several conjurers have try'd,
But both, I shame to say't, have ly'd.
One says, that we on board our scullers
Should all return with flying colours;
Another, we should cram our breeches
As full as they can hold with riches,
For presents to our wives and misses,
Which they'll repay us back with kisses.
Instead of this, we're hack'd and worn,
Our money spent, and breeches torn;
And, to crown all, our empty sculls
Fill'd with strange tales of cocks and bulls.
Now Jove is got on t'other tack,
And says we all must trundle back:
Dry blows we've got, and, what is more,
Our credit's lost upon this shore:
Nor can I find one soul that's willing
To trust us now a single shilling.
No longer since than yesterday,
Our butcher broke, and ran away:
The baker swears too, by Apollo,
If times don't mend he soon must follow:
As for the alehouse-man, 'tis clear
That half-penny a pot on beer
Will send him off before next year;
And then we all must be content
To guzzle down pure element.
A time there was, when who but we!
Now were humbugg'd, you plainly see;
And, what's the worst of all, you'll say,
A handful makes us run away:
For, if our numbers I can ken,
Where Troy has one man, we have ten.
Nine years, and more, the Grecian host
Have been upon this cursed coast;
And Troy's as far from being sack'd
As when it was at first attack'd;
The more we kill, the more appear;
They grow as fast as mushrooms here!
Like Toulon frigates rent and torn,
Our leaky boats to stumps are worn;
Then let's be packing and away;
For what the vengeance should we stay?
Our wives without it won't remain;
Pray how the pox should they contain?
For one that fasts, I'll lay there's ten
Are now employing journeymen:
If that's the case, I know you'll say
'Tis time indeed to hyke away;
Let us no more then make this fuss,
Troy was not doom'd to fall by us.
Most of the rabble, that were not
Consulted in this famous plot,
Were hugely pleas'd, and straight begin
To cry, God save our noble king!
He that spoke last, spoke like a man.
So whipp'd about, and off they ran.
As they jogg'd on, their long lank hair
Did like the dyers' rags appear;
Which you in every street will find
Waving like streamers in the wind:
To it they went with all their heart,
To get things ready to depart;
And made a sort of humming roar,
Like billows rumbling to the shore.
Halloo, cry'd some, here lend a hand
To heave the lighters off the strand;
Don't lounging stand to bite your nails,
But bustle, boys, and bend the sails.
Now all the vessels launch'd had been,
If scolding Juno had not seen:
That noisy brimstone seldom slept,
But a sharp eye for ever kept;
Not out of love to th' Grecian state,
But to poor harmless Paris hate,
Because on Ida's mountain he
Swore Venus better made than she:
And most are of opinion still,
He show'd himself a man of skill;
For Juno, ever mischief hatching,
Had wrinkled all her bum with scratching,
Whilst this enchanting Venus was
As smooth all o'er as polish'd glass.
Since then there was so wide a difference,
Pray who can wonder at the preference?
For wrinkles I'm myself no pleader:
Pray what are you, my gentle reader?
A simple answer to the question
Will put an end to this digression:
Why can't you speak now, when you're bid?
You like smooth skins? I thought you did:
And, since you've freely spoke your mind,
We'll back return, and Juno find.
Upon a cloud she sat astride,
(As now-a-days our angels ride)
Where calling Pallas, thus she spoke:
Would it not any soul provoke,
To see those Grecian hang-dogs run,
And leave their bus'ness all undone?
This will be pretty work, indeed;
For Greece to fly, and Troy succeed.
Rot me! but Priam's whoring race
(Sad dogs, without one grain of grace)
Shan't vamp it thus, whilst lovely Helen
Is kept for that damn'd rogue to dwell in;
That whoring whelp, who trims her so
She never thinks of Menelau:
But I shall stir my stumps, and make
The Greeks once more their broomsticks shake,
Then fly, my crony, in great haste,
Lest opportunity be past.
The cause, my girl, is partly thine;
He scorn'd thy ware as well as mine:
And, just as if he'd never seen us,
Bestow'd the prize on Madam Venus,
A blacksmith's wife, or kettle-mender,
And one whose reputation's slender;
Though her concerns I scorn to peep in,
Yet Mars has had her long in keeping.
Pallas obeys, and down the slope
Slides, like a sailor on a rope.
Upon the barren shore she found
Ulysses lost in thoughts profound:
His head with care so very full,
He look'd as solemn as an owl;
Was sorely grip'd, nor at this pinch
Would launch his boats a single inch.
And is it thus, she says, my king,
The Greeks their hogs to market bring?
See how they skip on board each hoy,
Ready to break their necks for joy!
Shall Priam's lecherous son, that thrives
By kissing honest tradesmen's wives,
Be left that heaven of bliss to dwell in,
The matchless arms of beauteous Helen?
O, no; the very thought, by Gad,
Makes Wisdom's goddess almost mad!
Though, by thy help, I think 'tis hard.
But yet I singe the rascal's beard.
Then fly, Ulysses, stop 'em all;
The captains must their troops recall.
Thou hast the gift o' th' gab, I know;
Be quick and use it, prithee do:
From Pallas thou shalt have assistance,
Should any scoundrel make resistance.
Ulysses ken'd her voice so shrill,
And mov'd to execute her will;
Then pull'd his breeches up in haste,
Which being far too wide i' th' waist,
Had left his buttocks almost bare —
He guess'd what made the goddess stare;
Next try'd his coat of buff to doff,
But could not quickly get it off,
So fast upon his arms it stuck,
Till Pallas kindly lent a pluck.
Off then it came, when, like a man,
He took him to his heels and ran.
The first that in his race he met
Was Agamemnon in a pet,
Striving, for breakfast, with his truncheon
To bruise a mouldy brown-bread luncheon.
Ulysses tells him, with a laugh,
I've better bus'ness for that staff,
And must request you'll lend it me
To keep up my authority.
Which having got, he look'd as big
As J-n-n's coronation wig;
Then flew, like wild-fire, through the ranks?
'Twas wond'rous how he ply'd his shanks.
Each captain by his name he calls;
I'm here, each noble captain bawls.
Then thus: O knights of courage stout,
Pray, what the devil makes this rout?
You that exalted are for samples,
Should set your soldiers good examples:
Instead of that, I pray, why strove ye
To run as if the devil drove ye?
You knew full well, or I belie ye,
Our general only spoke to try ye:
All that he meant by't was to know,
Whether we'd rather stay or go?
And is more vext to find us willing
To run, than if he'd lost a shilling;
Because at council-board, this day,
Quite different things you heard him say.
But if he met a common man,
That dar'd to contradict his plan;
Or, if the scoundrel durst but grumble;
Nay, if he did but seem to mumble;
He, with his truncheon of command,
First knock'd him down, then bid him stand
By this good management they stopp'd;
But not till eight or ten were dropp'd.
From launching boats, with one accord,
They trudg'd away to th' council-board.
The hubbub then began to cease:
The noise was hush'd, and all was peace.
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