While we do not deem it expedient to translate this somewhat coarse
_jeu d'esprit_, its sentiment and allusions will be found
anticipated in the lines 'To the Reader, upon the Author his
Kins-man,' prefixed to 'Follie's Anatomie; or Satyres and Satyricall
Epigrams; with a compendious History of Ixion's Wheele. Compiled by
Henry Hutton, Dunelmensis.' London, 1619 (pp. 3-4)--which we give
here:
Old Homer in his time made a great feast,
And every Poet was thereat a guest:
All had their welcome, yet not all one fare;
To them above the salt (his chiefest care)
He spread a banquet of choice Poesie,
Whereon they fed even to satietie.
The lower end had from that end their cates;
For Homer, setting open his dung-gates,
Delivered from that dresser excrement,
Whereon they glutted, and returned in print.
Let no man wonder that I this rehearse;
Nought came from Homer but it turned to verse.
Now where our Author was, at this good cheere,
Where was his place, or whether he were there;
Whether he waited, or he tooke away,
Of this same point I cannot soothly say.
But this I ghesse: being then a dandiprat,
Some witty Poet took him on his lap,
And fed him, from above, with some choice bit.
Hence his acumen, and a ready wit.
But prayers from a friendly pen ill thrive,
And truth's scarce truth, spoke by a relative.
Let envy, therefore, give her vote herein:
Envy and th' Author sure are nought akin.
He personate bad Envy; yet say so,
He lickt at Homer's mouth, not from below. R[ALPH] H[UTTON].
Percy Society edit. (Rimbault), 1842. Both Hutton and Crashaw remind
us of the like sportiveness (rough) in Dryden and Byron. G.