Aristophanes, The Acharnians 626–718: Parabasis: the poet defends himself; the old men complain of the law-courts

The man has the best of the wordy debate, and the hearts of the people is winning To his plea for the truce. Now doff we our robes, our own anapaestics beginning. Since first to exhibit his plays he began, our chorus-instructor has never Come forth to confess in this public address how tactful he is and how clever. But now that he knows he is slandered by foes before Athens so quick to assent, Pretending he jeers our City and sneers at the people with evil intent, He is ready and fain his cause to maintain before Athens so quick to repent. Let honour and praise be the guerdon, he says, of the poet whose satire has stayed you From believing the orators’ novel conceits wherewith they cajoled and betrayed you;

Who bids you despise adulation and lies nor be citizens Vacant and Vain. For before, when an embassy came from the states intriguing your favour to gain, And called you the town of the violet crown, so grand and exalted ye grew, That at once on your tiptails erect ye would sit, those crowns were so pleasant to you. And then, if they added the shiny, they got whatever they asked for their praises, Though apter, I ween, for an oily sardine than for you and your City the phrase is. By this he’s a true benefactor to you, and by showing with humour dramatic The way that our wise democratic allies are ruled by our State democratic. And therefore their people will come oversea, their tribute to bring to the City, Consumed with desire to behold and admire the poet so fearless and witty, Who dared in the presence of Athens to speak the thing that is rightful and true. And truly the fame of his prowess, by this, has been bruited the universe through, When the Sovereign of Persia, desiring to test what the end of our warfare will be, Inquired of the Spartan ambassadors, first, which nation is queen of the sea, And next, which the wonderful Poet has got, as its stern and unsparing adviser; For those who are lashed by his satire, he said, must surely be better and wiser,

And they’ll in the war be the stronger by far, enjoying his counsel and skill. And therefore the Spartans approach you to-day with proffers of Peace and Goodwill, Just asking indeed that Aegina ye cede; and nought do they care for the isle, But you of the Poet who serves you so well they fain would despoil and beguile. But be you on your guard nor surrender the bard; for his Art shall be righteous and true. Rare blessings and great will he work for the State, rare happiness shower upon you Not fawning, or bribing, or striving to cheat with an empty unprincipled jest; Not seeking your favour to curry or nurse, but teaching the things that are best. AND THEREFORE I say to the people to-day, Let Cleon the worst of his villainies try, His anger I fear not, his threats I defy! For Honour and Right beside me will fight, And never shall I In ought that relates to the city be found Such a craven as he, such a profligate hound, O Muse, fiery-flashing, with temper of flame, energetic, Acharnian, come to my gaze, Like the wild spark that leaps from the evergreen oak, when its red-glowing charcoal is fanned to a blaze, And the small fish are lying all in order for the frying;

And some are mixing Thasian, richly dight, shiny-bright, And some dip the small fish therein; Come, fiery-flashing Maid, to thy fellow-burgher’s aid, With exactly such a song, so glowing and so strong, To our old rustic melodies akin, WE the veterans blame the City. Is it meet and right that we, Who of old, in manhood’s vigour, fought your battles on the sea, Should in age be left untended, yea exposed to shame and ill? Is it right to let the youngsters air their pert forensic skill, Grappling us with writs and warrants, holding up our age to scorn? We who now have lost our music, feeble nothings, dull, forlorn, We whose only “Safe Poseidon” is the staff we lean upon, There we stand, decayed and muttering, hard beside the Court-house Stone, Nought discerning all around us save the darkness of our case. Comes the youngster, who has compassed for himself the accuser’s place, Slings his tight and nipping phrases, tackling us with legal scraps, Pulls us up and cross-examines, setting little verbal traps, Rends and rattles old Tithonus till the man is dazed and blind;

Till with toothless gums he mumbles, then departs condemned and fined; Sobbing, weeping, as he passes, to his friends he murmurs low, All I’ve saved to buy a coffin now to pay the fine must go. How can it be seemly a grey-headed man by the Water-clock’s stream to decoy and to slay, Who of old, young and bold, laboured hard for the State, who would wipe off his sweat and return to the fray? At Marathon arrayed, to the battle-shock we ran, And our mettle we displayed, foot to foot, man to man, And our name and our fame shall not die. Aye in youth we were Pursuers on the Marathonian plain, But in age Pursuers vex us, and our best defence is vain. To this what can Marpsias reply?

Would have stood no airs or nonsense from the Goddess Travel-sore, Would have thrown, the mighty wrestler, ten Evathluses or more, Shouted down three thousand archers with his accents of command, Shot his own accuser’s kinsmen in their Scythian fatherland. Nay, but if ye will not leave us to our hardly earned repose, Sort the writs, divide the actions, separating these from those; Who assails the old and toothless; should be old and toothless too; For a youngster, wantons, gabblers, Cleinias’ son the trick may do. So for future fines and exiles, fair and square the balance hold, Let the youngster sue the youngster, and the old man sue the old.