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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
Pindar, Peter (1738-1819)

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VOL. I.
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VOL. II.
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VOL. III.
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VOL. IV.
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TALES OF THE HOY;
  
[epigraph]
  
['Twas in that month when Nature drear]
  
THE PRAISE OF MARGATE.
  
AN ODE OF CONDOLENCE TO GEORGE ROSE, ESQ.
  
[Whate'er from dirty Thames to Margate goes]
  
[Now, as our immortal Milton sublimely would have sung:]
  
[Or, as the no less immortal author of Hudibras would have quaintly said;]
  
[Again, as the illustrious Butler would have said, or sung:]
  
[Thus oft it happens that the sky]
  
SONG.
  
CORINNA'S EPITAPH.
  
SONG.
  
THE WIDOW OF EPHESUS;
  
THE DRUNKEN FLY.
  
VERSES ON A FLY
  
Verses on the Fall of the Statue of Apollo from the Summit of the Organ, on the Head of Shield, as he was playing.
  
POOR TOM.
  
THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE.
  
[Thus, as the flocks amid the valley feed]
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TEARS AND SMILES;
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ORSON AND ELLEN;
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NEW-OLD BALLADS.
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ODES.
  
A POETICAL EPISTLE TO BENJAMIN COUNT RUMFORD, Knight of the White Eagle, &c. &c.
  
THE ISLAND OF INNOCENCE;
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THE MIDDLESEX ELECTION;
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PITT AND HIS STATUE;
  
LORD B--- AND HIS MOTIONS.
  
PROH IMPUDENTIAM! AN ODE.
  
TEMPORA MUTANTUR.
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GREAT CRY AND LITTLE WOOL;
  
AN INSTRUCTIVE EPISTLE TO JOHN PERRING, ESQ. Lord Mayor of London;
  
THE HORRORS OF BRIBERY;
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TRISTIA;
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ONE MORE PEEP AT THE ROYAL ACADEMY;
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ODES TO THE HEADS.
  
ANTICIPATION: OR, THE PRIZE ADDRESS;
  
A SOLEMN SENTIMENTAL, AND REPROBATING EPISTLE TO MRS. CLARKE.
  
A SECOND SOLEMN, SENTIMENTAL, AND REPROBATING, EPISTLE TO MRS. CLARKE.
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CARLTON-HOUSE FETE;

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A SIMILE.

Thus have I seen a child, with smiling face,
A little daisy in the garden place,
And strut in triumph round its fav'rite flow'r;
Gaze on the leaves with infant admiration,
Thinking the flow'r the finest in the nation,
Then pay a visit to it ev'ry hour:
Lugging the wat'ring pot about,
Which John the gard'ner was oblig'd to fill;
The child, so pleas'd, would pour the water out,
To show its marvellous gard'ning skill;
Then staring round, all wild for praises panting,
Tell all the world it was its own sweet planting;
And boast away, too happy elf,
How that it found the daisy all itself!
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