Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE KNIGHTS: THE POET AND HIS RIVALS, by ARISTOPHANES Poet's Biography First Line: If one of the comedy-makers of old had attempted to order the knights Last Line: And a gleaming expanse on his forehead. | ||||||||
IF one of the comedy-makers of old had attempted to order the Knights To come forward and speak to the House in his name, we'd have said he exceeded his rights, But this man really merits our help. He has hated the things we hate, Defended the Right, and fronted the Storm, stood fast in the roaring Spate. Now he tells us that dozens of people have come, and asked him, in some surprise, Why he hasn't produced his plays himself, long ago, without any disguise. Well, he wants us to say he has waited so long not for nothing, but -- so he insists -- Because the production of Comedy is the most ticklish thing that exists. Our fair Comic Muse is courted, he says, by hundreds, but smiles upon few. Besides he has read your natures of old; you were annual plants, he knew, You had never kept faith with the poets you loved; just used them and thrown them away. He thought of what Magnes suffered, as soon as his temples began to be grey, Though there never had been such a chorus as his, such a winner of prize upon prize, Though he uttered all manner of varying sounds with his Lutes and his Wings and his Flies, Though he talked like a Lydian, turned green like a Frog. Not enough! In the valley of years, Though never in youth, he was hissed off the stage. 'There was not enough life in his jeers!' Of Cratinus he thought, at the height of his power, like a flood that burst through the level, Till oaks, planes, enemies, up by the roots went flying, and off to the Devil; When never a song at a banquet was heard but Slipper of Silvery Tips, Or Songful Grafters of Glutinous Palms; 'twas a glory that none could eclipse. And now, when you see him doddering past, for shame! have you nothing to say, When he walks in a maze, like Connas of old, his lyre far gone in decay, With the pegs dropping out, and the strings out of tune, and the joints of the framework burst, The flowers of his garland of victory dead, and the old boy dying of thirst? Why, if men had their rights, he should drink at his ease at the Hearth of Athena, and sit Beside Dionysus here, clad in his best, in return for those glories of wit. Then Crates, too, what tempers of yours and buffetings he underwent! Light lunches he gave you, at little expense, and dismissed you amused and content; He made you the neatest confections of wit, well-phrased by the driest of lips; He did -- he only -- hold out to the end, and stood -- with occasional slips . . . Their fate made him nervous and willing to wait; and besides he felt perfectly clear That a sailor must first learn to manage his oar before he professes to steer; And, next after that, take his stand at the prow and study the winds and the weather; And then, last of all, rule the vessel himself. For all these reasons together, And because he was modest, and didn't rush in and brawl with incompetence horrid, Come, a shout like the sea, a salute with all oars! A Lenean salute till the theatre roars! And so let your poet in triumph depart With a smile in his heart And a gleaming expanse on his forehead. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THESMOPHORIAZUSAE: WOMEN'S CHORUS by ARISTOPHANES BACCHUS AND THE FROGS by ARISTOPHANES CHORUS OF CLOUD-MAIDENS: STROPHE, FR. THE CLOUDS by ARISTOPHANES CHORUS OF THE CLOUD-MAIDEN: ANTISTROPHE, FR. THE CLOUDS by ARISTOPHANES LYSISTRATA: HOW THE WOMEN WILL STOP WAR by ARISTOPHANES LYSISTRATA: HYMN OF PEACE; CHORUSES OF ATHENIANS AND SPARTANS by ARISTOPHANES PARLIAMENT OF WOMEN: PRAXAGORA REHEARSES by ARISTOPHANES THE ACHARNIANS: A PLEA FOR THE ENEMY by ARISTOPHANES THE ACHARNIANS: IN PRAISE OF THE POET by ARISTOPHANES |
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