 | The Works of Thomas Love Peacock |  |
ON A LAP DOG OF MISS --- NAM'D QUISI
(SIGNIFIES IN CHINESE, SON OF THE DEVIL)
Of little crop-ear'd Pug to write
In lofty notes heroic,
Might sure the patience put to flight
Of pleasure-hating stoic.
But since ------ gives command,
'Tis nothing more than duty;
What youthful bard could e'er withstand
The sacred will of beauty?
In lofty notes heroic,
Might sure the patience put to flight
Of pleasure-hating stoic.
182
'Tis nothing more than duty;
What youthful bard could e'er withstand
The sacred will of beauty?
Oh wondrous Quisi! Who can see
And seeing, not admire?
Rightly to praise a Dog like thee
Demands a Pindar's Lyre.
“Son of the Devil,” enchanting Qui,
Should I extol thee to the sky
Pray where would be the wonder?
Much greater puppies than thyself
Have oft by many a rhyming elf
Been sung in notes of thunder.
And seeing, not admire?
Rightly to praise a Dog like thee
Demands a Pindar's Lyre.
“Son of the Devil,” enchanting Qui,
Should I extol thee to the sky
Pray where would be the wonder?
Much greater puppies than thyself
Have oft by many a rhyming elf
Been sung in notes of thunder.
Though some to all thy beauties blind
Thy praise may take no share in,
I'll call thee loveliest of thy kind
And charming past comparing.
Yes! all who call thee “ugly beast”
More blind than any stone are;
Thou hast reflected charms at least
Thanks to thy lovely owner.
How to the Sunflower's gaudy leaves
Is so much brightness given?
Reflected splendor it receives,
Drawn from the Sun of Heaven.
Thy praise may take no share in,
I'll call thee loveliest of thy kind
And charming past comparing.
Yes! all who call thee “ugly beast”
More blind than any stone are;
Thou hast reflected charms at least
Thanks to thy lovely owner.
How to the Sunflower's gaudy leaves
Is so much brightness given?
Reflected splendor it receives,
Drawn from the Sun of Heaven.
E'en so L---'s smiles divine
On whatsoe'er they deign to shine,
Than morning rays more tender,
Reflected beauty can bestow—
Thence all thy charms, Oh Quisi, flow—
'Tis hers to make e'en darkness glow
With Heaven's meridian splendor.
On whatsoe'er they deign to shine,
Than morning rays more tender,
183
Thence all thy charms, Oh Quisi, flow—
'Tis hers to make e'en darkness glow
With Heaven's meridian splendor.
| The Works of Thomas Love Peacock | |