The Iliad. Homer

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       To move the crowd to laughter, brawl'd aloud.

       The ugliest man was he who came to Troy:

       With squinting eyes, and one distorted foot,

       His shoulders round, and buried in his breast

       His narrow head, with scanty growth of hair.

       Against Achilles and Ulysses most

       His hate was turn'd; on them his venom pour'd;

       Anon, at Agamemnon's self he launch'd

       His loud-tongued ribaldry; 'gainst him he knew

       Incensed the public mind; and bawling loud, [1]

       With scurril words, he thus address'd the King:

       "What more, thou son of Atreus, would'st thou have?

       Thy tents are full of brass; and in those tents

       Many fair women, whom, from all the spoil,

       We Greeks, whene'er some wealthy town we take,

       Choose first of all, and set apart for thee.

       Or dost thou thirst for gold, which here perchance

       Some Trojan brings, the ransom of his son

       Captur'd by me, or by some other Greek?

       Or some new girl, to gratify thy lust,

       Kept for thyself apart? a leader, thou

       Shouldst not to evil lead the sons of Greece.

       Ye slaves! ye coward souls! Women of Greece!

       I will not call you men! why go we not

       Home with our ships, and leave this mighty chief

       To gloat upon his treasures, and find out

       Whether in truth he need our aid, or no;

       Who on Achilles, his superior far,

       Foul scorn hath cast, and robb'd him of his prize,

       Which for himself he keeps? Achilles, sure,

       Is not intemperate, but mild of mood;

       Else, Atreus' son, this insult were thy last."

      On Agamemnon, leader of the host,

       With words like these Thersites pour'd his hate;

       But straight Ulysses at his side appear'd,

       And spoke, with scornful glance, in stern rebuke:

       "Thou babbling fool, Thersites, prompt of speech,

       Restrain thy tongue, nor singly thus presume

       The Kings to slander; thou, the meanest far

       Of all that with the Atridae came to Troy.

       Ill it beseems, that such an one as thou

       Should lift thy voice against the Kings, and rail

       With scurril ribaldry, and prate of home.

       How these affairs may end, we know not yet;

       Nor how, or well or ill, we may return.

       Cease then against Atrides, King of men,

       To pour thy spite, for that the valiant Greeks

       To him, despite thy railing, as of right

       An ample portion of the spoils assign.

       But this I tell thee, and will make it good,

       If e'er I find thee play the fool, as now,

       Then may these shoulders cease this head to bear,

       And may my son Telemachus no more

       Own me his father, if I strip not off

       Thy mantle and thy garments, aye, expose

       Thy nakedness, and flog thee to the ships

       Howling, and scourg'd with ignominious stripes."

      Thus as he spoke, upon Thersites' neck

       And back came down his heavy staff; the wretch

       Shrank from the blow, and scalding tears let fall.

       Where struck the golden-studded staff, appear'd

       A bloody weal: Thersites quail'd, and down,

       Quiv'ring with pain, he sat, and wip'd away.

       With horrible grimace, the trickling tears.

       The Greeks, despite their anger, laugh'd aloud,

       And one to other said, "Good faith, of all

       The many works Ulysses well hath done,

       Wise in the council, foremost in the fight,

       He ne'er hath done a better, than when now

       He makes this scurril babbler hold his peace.

       Methinks his headstrong spirit will not soon

       Lead him again to vilify the Kings."

      Thus spoke the gen'ral voice: but, staff in hand,

       Ulysses rose; Minerva by his side,

       In likeness of a herald, bade the crowd

       Keep silence, that the Greeks, from first to last,

       Might hear his words, and ponder his advice.

       He thus with prudent phrase his speech began:

       "Great son of Atreus, on thy name, O King,

       Throughout the world will foul reproach be cast,

       If Greeks forget their promise, nor make good

       The vow they took to thee, when hitherward

       We sailed from Argos' grassy plains, to raze,

       Ere our return, the well-built walls of Troy.

       But now, like helpless widows, or like babes,

       They mourn their cruel fate, and pine for home.

       'Tis hard indeed defeated to return;

       The seaman murmurs, if from wife and home,

       Ev'n for one month, his well-found bark be stay'd,

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