The toast An heroick poem: In four Books, Written originally in Latin, by Frederick Scheffer: Now done into English, and illustrated with Notes and Observations, by Peregrine Odonald [i.e. William King] |
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ODE TO THE Chevalier PIERCY
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 | The toast |  |
221
ODE TO THE Chevalier PIERCY
Scriberis Vario fortis, & hostium
Victor, &c.
Victor, &c.
Sonorous Bards in Epic Verse
Thy matchless Virtues may rehearse;
Extol the gallant Kevan Band,
Proud to march under thy Command;
And tell what great Exploits were done,
Both with the Pole-axe and the Gun.
Thy matchless Virtues may rehearse;
Extol the gallant Kevan Band,
Proud to march under thy Command;
And tell what great Exploits were done,
Both with the Pole-axe and the Gun.
But shall a Ballad-singing Swain,
Who never try'd an higher Strain,
Say, how a Don of muckle Might,
Full fraught with Craft, and prone to fight,
Led forth his Troops to spoil and burn,
Resolv'd to conquer, or—return?
Who never try'd an higher Strain,
Say, how a Don of muckle Might,
Full fraught with Craft, and prone to fight,
Led forth his Troops to spoil and burn,
Resolv'd to conquer, or—return?
How some ill-fated Trees, that dar'd
Appear at Distance like a Guard,
(For Danger multiplies our Fear
And makes each Shrub a Grenadier)
After a Council duly held,
The Gen'ral order'd to be fell'd.
Appear at Distance like a Guard,
(For Danger multiplies our Fear
And makes each Shrub a Grenadier)
222
The Gen'ral order'd to be fell'd.
His Sword, by this Success grown vain,
He flourish'd thrice, and thrice again;
Both to express his Joy and Rage,
Like Kindred Heroes of the Stage:
Then fearless charg'd the Palisade;
Which little Opposition made,
Tho' rais'd by Mars at vast Expence,
Well form'd, and pointed for Defence.
For down he smote at ev'ry Stroke
A Pale—tho' all were Heart of Oak!
He flourish'd thrice, and thrice again;
Both to express his Joy and Rage,
Like Kindred Heroes of the Stage:
Then fearless charg'd the Palisade;
Which little Opposition made,
Tho' rais'd by Mars at vast Expence,
Well form'd, and pointed for Defence.
For down he smote at ev'ry Stroke
A Pale—tho' all were Heart of Oak!
And next, to cut off fresh Supplies,
Or haply to prevent Surprize,
(For might not, Sirs, an Ambuscade
In a huge wooden Pump be laid,
As treach'rous Greeks, an armed Force,
Were whilom hid in wooden Horse?)
The Chieftain, in the Voice of Thunder,
Commands the Pump be cleft asunder.
Or haply to prevent Surprize,
(For might not, Sirs, an Ambuscade
In a huge wooden Pump be laid,
As treach'rous Greeks, an armed Force,
Were whilom hid in wooden Horse?)
The Chieftain, in the Voice of Thunder,
Commands the Pump be cleft asunder.
Then round the House with martial Grace
Marching to spy the weakest Place,
He mark'd, how many Panes were crack'd,
“The Windows must be first attack'd!”
So, tho' his Vet'rans thought him rash,
He points his Guns against a Sash.
The Frame was old, the Glass was thin,
And no Resistance from within:
A Breach was made, thro' which he ventur'd,
After his Soldiers all had enter'd.
Marching to spy the weakest Place,
He mark'd, how many Panes were crack'd,
“The Windows must be first attack'd!”
So, tho' his Vet'rans thought him rash,
He points his Guns against a Sash.
The Frame was old, the Glass was thin,
And no Resistance from within:
A Breach was made, thro' which he ventur'd,
After his Soldiers all had enter'd.
Thus fifty Wights, arm'd Cap-a-pee,
By dint of Courage conquer'd Three.
Tho' Men of Chapel-Izzod say,
The Gen'rals Conduct gain'd the Day.
By dint of Courage conquer'd Three.
Tho' Men of Chapel-Izzod say,
The Gen'rals Conduct gain'd the Day.
223
Now, since the Poet has been crush'd,
'Tis best, the Matter should be hush'd.
I hope the K---g, who lives so far,
Will hear no Tidings of this War:
For Kings, as well as simple Knights,
Are sometimes jealous of their Rights.
And you, great Guardian of the Laws,
Gracious review the Hero's Cause.
Tho' it may seem a rash Affair,
Consider, Piercy is Surveyor!
Do not conceive, he claims a Right,
Or storm'd the Royal Lodge in spite:
He strove to burn it, ere it yielded,
In hopes hereafter—to rebuild it.
'Tis best, the Matter should be hush'd.
I hope the K---g, who lives so far,
Will hear no Tidings of this War:
For Kings, as well as simple Knights,
Are sometimes jealous of their Rights.
And you, great Guardian of the Laws,
Gracious review the Hero's Cause.
Tho' it may seem a rash Affair,
Consider, Piercy is Surveyor!
Do not conceive, he claims a Right,
Or storm'd the Royal Lodge in spite:
He strove to burn it, ere it yielded,
In hopes hereafter—to rebuild it.
But hark, ye Warriors, how this Battle
Inclines my gossip Muse to prattle!
Tho' I have told her, 'tis not fit
To spoil great Deeds for want of Wit;
By Scraps and Hints to tell a Story,
And thus to sully Piercy's Glory.
Inclines my gossip Muse to prattle!
Tho' I have told her, 'tis not fit
To spoil great Deeds for want of Wit;
By Scraps and Hints to tell a Story,
And thus to sully Piercy's Glory.
When Phœbus will not lend a Beam,
Nor match the Numbers to the Theme;
What Bard can aptly draw Sir Mars
Acting the Hero of a Farce?
Or who describe his dreadful Note,
His warlike Strut, and broider'd Coat?
Nor match the Numbers to the Theme;
What Bard can aptly draw Sir Mars
Acting the Hero of a Farce?
Or who describe his dreadful Note,
His warlike Strut, and broider'd Coat?
Who can relate the Rise and Fall,
The various Shapes of Dublin Vol?
Shew him among the Mud-nymphs gay,
Or a grave Evidence for Pay?
Or else, majestic in his Hole,
Meting out Bally-Castle Coal?
No British Collier is so black,
Or can produce—a broader Back.
The various Shapes of Dublin Vol?
Shew him among the Mud-nymphs gay,
Or a grave Evidence for Pay?
Or else, majestic in his Hole,
Meting out Bally-Castle Coal?
No British Collier is so black,
Or can produce—a broader Back.
224
But, Piercy, greatest of the Three!
Mirror of modern Chivalry!
What Verse is equal to your Merit,
Who can display your active Spirit?
Whether, exerting all your Skill,
You plan a House, or—make a Will:
Or, aided by the Beldam's Charm,
You bid your Mercenaries arm:
Take Castles without Loss of Man,
As Spanish Quixots took Oran.
Shall it suffice—thou hast a Place.
That thou art dubb'd by D---t's Grace?
Or, since the Danger all is past,
Shall this bold Action be thy last?
No—thou shalt higher—higher rise,
Till thy great Head shall touch the Skies;
Till Jove shall smile with gracious Nod,
And Scheffer change thee to a God.
Mirror of modern Chivalry!
What Verse is equal to your Merit,
Who can display your active Spirit?
Whether, exerting all your Skill,
You plan a House, or—make a Will:
Or, aided by the Beldam's Charm,
You bid your Mercenaries arm:
Take Castles without Loss of Man,
As Spanish Quixots took Oran.
Shall it suffice—thou hast a Place.
That thou art dubb'd by D---t's Grace?
Or, since the Danger all is past,
Shall this bold Action be thy last?
No—thou shalt higher—higher rise,
Till thy great Head shall touch the Skies;
Till Jove shall smile with gracious Nod,
And Scheffer change thee to a God.
Whilst I, content with humble Lays,
Repeat the sable Frokin's Praise;
Describe her Face, her Shape, her Carriage;
Her Art of Love, and Art of Marriage.
Or—ever mindful of my Wrongs,
At Leisure to compose new Songs,
I couple Donnas a-la-mode,
And dress old Myra in an Ode.
Repeat the sable Frokin's Praise;
Describe her Face, her Shape, her Carriage;
Her Art of Love, and Art of Marriage.
Or—ever mindful of my Wrongs,
At Leisure to compose new Songs,
I couple Donnas a-la-mode,
And dress old Myra in an Ode.
| The toast | |