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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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328

CONCLUSION.

Think not, friend Tom, I envy thee thy rhime,
By numbers, I assure you, deem'd sublime;
Or that thy laureat's place my spleen provokes:
The king (good man!) and I should never quarrel,
Ev'n though his royal wisdom gave the laurel
To Mr. Tom-a-Stiles, or John-a-Nokes.
Old fashion'd, as if tutor'd in the ark,
I never sigh'd for glory's high degrees:
This very instant should our Grand Monarque
Say, ‘Peter, be my laureat, if you please;’
‘No, please your majesty,’ should be my answer,
With sweetest diffidence and modest grace:
‘The office suits a more ingenious man, sir;
In God's name, therefore, let him have the place:
Unlike the poets, 'tis my vast affliction
To be a miserable hand at fiction.
But, sir, I'll find some lyric undertaker,
Acrostic, rebus, or conundrum-maker,
Who oft hath rode on Pegasus so fiery,
And won the sweepstakes in the Ladies Diary;
Such, Sire, in poetry shall hitch your name,
And do sufficient justice to your fame.’