The Acharnians (Frere)
| The Acharnians (1895) by , translated by John Hookham Frere |
How many things there are to cross and vex me,
My comforts I compute at four precisely,
My griefs and miseries at a hundred thousand.
Let’s see what there has happened to rejoice me
With any real kind of joyfulness;
Come, in the first place I set down five talents,
Which Cleon vomited up again and refunded;
There I rejoiced; I loved the knights for that;
’Twas nobly done, for the interests of all Greece.
But again I suffered cruelly in the theatre
A tragical disappointment—There was I
Gaping to hear old Æschylus, when the Herald
Called out, “Theognis,[1] bring your chorus forward.”
Imagine what my feelings must have been!
But then Dexitheus pleased me coming forward
And singing his Bœotian melody:
But next came Chæris with his music truly,
That turned me sick, and killed me very nearly.
But never in my lifetime, man nor boy,
Was I so vexed as at this present moment;
To see the Pnyx, at this time of the morning,
Quite empty, when the Assembly should be full.
There are our citizens in the market-place,
Lounging and talking, shifting up and down
To escape the painted twine that ought to sweep
The shoal of them this way; not even the Presidents
Arrived—they’re always last, crowding and jostling
To get the foremost seat; but as for peace
They never think about it—Oh, poor country!
As for myself, I’m always the first man.
Alone in the morning, here I take my place,
Here I contemplate, here I stretch my legs;
I think and think—I don’t know what to think.
I draw conclusions and comparisons,
I ponder, I reflect, I pick my nose,
I make a stink—I make a metaphor,
I fidget about, and yawn and scratch myself;
Looking in vain to the prospect of the fields,
Loathing in the city, longing for a peace,
To return to my poor village and my farm,
That never used to cry “Come buy my charcoal!”
Nor, “Buy my oil!” nor “Buy my anything!”
But gave me what I wanted, freely and fairly,
Clear of all cost, with never a word of buying,
Or such buy-words. So here I’m come, resolved
To bawl, to abuse, to interrupt the speakers,
Whenever I hear a word of any kind
Except for an immediate peace. Ah there!
The Presidents at last; see, there they come!
All scrambling for their seats—I told you so!
HERALD. Move forward there! More forward all of ye
Further! within the consecrated ground.
AMPHITHEUS. Has anybody spoke?
HER. Is anybody
Prepared to speak?
AMP. Amphitheus the demigod.
HER. Not a man?
AMP. No, I’m immortal; for the first Amphitheus
Was born of Ceres and Triptolemus,
His only son was Keleüs, Keleüs married
Phænarete my grandmother, Lykinus
My father, was their son; that’s proof enough
Of the immortality in our family.
The gods moreover have dispatched me here
Commissioned specially to arrange a peace
Betwixt this city and Sparta—notwithstanding
I find myself rather in want at present
Of a little ready money for my journey.
The magistrates won’t assist me.
HER. Constables!
AMP. O Keleüs and Triptolemus, don’t forsake me!
DIC. You Presidents, I say! you exceed your powers;
You insult the Assembly, dragging off a man
That offered to make terms and give us peace.
HER. Keep silence there.
DIC. By Jove, but I won’t be silent,
Except I hear a motion about peace.
HER. Ho there! the Ambassadors from the King of Persia.
DIC. What King of Persia? what Ambassadors?
I’m sick of foreigners and foreign animals,
Peacocks[2] and coxcombs and Ambassadors.
HER. Keep silence there.
DIC. What’s here? What dress is that?
In the name of Ecbatana![3] What does it mean?
AMB. You sent us when Euthymenes was Archon,
Some few years back, Ambassadors to Persia,
With an appointment of two drachmas each
For daily maintenance.
DIC. Alas, poor drachmas!
AMB. ’Twas no such easy service, I can tell you,
No trifling inconvenience to be dragged
Along those dusty dull Caystrian plains,
Smothered with cushions in the travelling chariots,
Obliged to lodge at night in our pavilions,
Jaded and hacked to death.
DIC. My service then
Was an easy one, you think! on guard all night,
In the open air, at the outposts, on a mat.
AMB. . . . . At our reception we were forced to drink
Strong luscious wine in cups of gold and crystal . . . .
DIC. O rock of Athens! sure thy very stones
Should mutiny at such open mockery!
- ↑ A bad tragic poet, ridiculed in this play.
- ↑ Peacocks had been introduced at the public charge, and were exhibited monthly. It is to be supposed that the exhibition had become rather stale.
- ↑ The name of an unknown and extraordinary place is sometimes used to express wonder. In New England a thing is said to be “Jerusalem fine.” Flanders in the time of Philip III, served the Spanish for a phrase of wonder, “No hay mas Flandes.”
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This work published before January 1, 1923 is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago. |
