The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] ... With a Copious Index. To which is prefixed Some Account of his Life. In Four Volumes |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
The modern bard, quoth Tom, sublimely sings
Of sharp and prudent œconomic kings,
Who rams, and ewes, and lambs, and bullocks feed,
And pigs of every sort of breed:
Of sharp and prudent œconomic kings,
Who rams, and ewes, and lambs, and bullocks feed,
And pigs of every sort of breed:
Of kings who pride themselves on fruitful sows;
Who sell skim milk, and keep a guard so stout
To drive the geese, the thievish rascals, out,
That ev'ry morning us'd to suck the cows :—
Who sell skim milk, and keep a guard so stout
To drive the geese, the thievish rascals, out,
That ev'ry morning us'd to suck the cows :—
Of kings who cabbages
and carrots plant
For such as wholesome vegetables want;—
Who feed, too, poultry for the people's sake,
Then send it through the villages in carts,
To cheer (how wondrous kind!) the hungry hearts
Of such as only pay for what they take.
For such as wholesome vegetables want;—
Who feed, too, poultry for the people's sake,
Then send it through the villages in carts,
To cheer (how wondrous kind!) the hungry hearts
Of such as only pay for what they take.
The poet now, quoth Tom's rare lucubration,
Singeth commercial treaties—commutation—
Taxes on paint, pomatum, milk of roses,
Olympian dew, gloves, sticking plaster, hats,
Quack medicines for sick Christians, and sound rats,
And all that charm our eyes, or mouths, or noses.
Singeth commercial treaties—commutation—
319
Olympian dew, gloves, sticking plaster, hats,
Quack medicines for sick Christians, and sound rats,
And all that charm our eyes, or mouths, or noses.
The modern bard, says Tom, sublimely sings
Of virtuous, gracious, good, uxorious kings,
Who love their wives so constant from their heart;—
Who down at Windsor daily go a-shopping—
Their heads so lovely into houses popping,
And doing wonders in the hagling art.
Of virtuous, gracious, good, uxorious kings,
Who love their wives so constant from their heart;—
Who down at Windsor daily go a-shopping—
Their heads so lovely into houses popping,
And doing wonders in the hagling art.
And why, in God's name, should not queens and kings
Purchase a comb, or corkscrew, lace for cloaks,
Edging for caps, or tape for apron-strings,
Or pins, or bobbin, cheap as other folks?
Purchase a comb, or corkscrew, lace for cloaks,
Edging for caps, or tape for apron-strings,
Or pins, or bobbin, cheap as other folks?
Reader! to make thine eyes with wonder stare,
I tell thee farthings claim the royal care!
Farthings are helpless-children of a guinea:
If not well watch'd they travel to their cost!
For, lo! each copper-visag'd little ninny
Is very apt to stray, and to be lost.
Extravagance I never dar'd defend—
The greatest kings should save a candle-end:
I tell thee farthings claim the royal care!
Farthings are helpless-children of a guinea:
If not well watch'd they travel to their cost!
For, lo! each copper-visag'd little ninny
Is very apt to stray, and to be lost.
Extravagance I never dar'd defend—
The greatest kings should save a candle-end:
Since 'tis an axiom sure, the more folks save,
The more, indisputably, they must have,
Crown'd heads, of saving should appear examples;
And Britain really boasts two pretty samples!
The more, indisputably, they must have,
Crown'd heads, of saving should appear examples;
And Britain really boasts two pretty samples!
The modern poet sings, quoth Tom again,
Of sweet excisemen, an obliging train;
Who, like our guardian-angels, watch our houses,
And add another civil obligation
That addeth greatly to our reputation—
Hug, in our absences, our loving spouses.
Of sweet excisemen, an obliging train;
Who, like our guardian-angels, watch our houses,
And add another civil obligation
That addeth greatly to our reputation—
Hug, in our absences, our loving spouses.
Reader! when tir'd, I'm fond of taking breath:
Now, as thou dost admire the true sublime,
And, consequently, my immortal rhime,
'Tis clear thou never canst desire my death.
Now, as thou dost admire the true sublime,
And, consequently, my immortal rhime,
'Tis clear thou never canst desire my death.
320
Swans, in their songs, most musically die;—
If that's the case then, reader, so might I.
Let me, then, join thy wishes—stay my rapture,
And nurse my lungs to sing a second chapter.
If that's the case then, reader, so might I.
Let me, then, join thy wishes—stay my rapture,
And nurse my lungs to sing a second chapter.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |