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] |  |
OXFORD's Vice Chancellor, a man
Who fear'd the Lord, and lov'd the courtier clan,
By virtue of his trade a Thesis ordered,
Which curs'd the terrible assassination
Intended for the monarch of our nation
By Marg'ret Nicholson, in mind disorder'd;
Who fear'd the Lord, and lov'd the courtier clan,
By virtue of his trade a Thesis ordered,
Which curs'd the terrible assassination
Intended for the monarch of our nation
By Marg'ret Nicholson, in mind disorder'd;
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That likewise prais'd the royal peep
On Oxford and the arts so deep.
On Oxford and the arts so deep.
So violent was Doctor Chapman's zeal,
He quite forgot Latinity and graces:
Poor Priscian's head, whose wounds he cannot heal,
Was broken in half a dozen places.
He quite forgot Latinity and graces:
Poor Priscian's head, whose wounds he cannot heal,
Was broken in half a dozen places.
Yet though a simple doctor, how amazing!
He set the university a-blazing—
Such was the kindling zeal that he inherits—
A farthing candle in a cask of spirits!
He set the university a-blazing—
Such was the kindling zeal that he inherits—
A farthing candle in a cask of spirits!
Richards of Trinity, who won the prize,
Now strutted victor forth with scornful eyes;
Bringing to mind the bards and tuneful dames,
Who vied for conquest at th' Olympic games.
Now strutted victor forth with scornful eyes;
Bringing to mind the bards and tuneful dames,
Who vied for conquest at th' Olympic games.
Forth march'd, too, vice—videlicet, the doctor,
Who, purring for preferment, slily mouses,
Attended by each dog-whipper, call'd proctor,
And eke the heads and tails of all the houses.
Who, purring for preferment, slily mouses,
Attended by each dog-whipper, call'd proctor,
And eke the heads and tails of all the houses.
Forth march'd the nobles in their Sunday's geer;
Forth strutted, too, each beadle, like the peer,
With silver staffs, blue gowns, and velvet caps—
A set of very pompous-looking chaps!
Forth strutted, too, each beadle, like the peer,
With silver staffs, blue gowns, and velvet caps—
A set of very pompous-looking chaps!
Whilst Hayes
, who sticks like stag-hounds to a haunch,
Mov'd on in all the majesty of paunch:
To greet of all our ears the trembling drums,
The piper play'd ‘The conquering hero comes!’
Mov'd on in all the majesty of paunch:
To greet of all our ears the trembling drums,
The piper play'd ‘The conquering hero comes!’
Loud groan'd the organ through his hundred pipes,
As if the poor machine had got the gripes;
As if, too, 'twas the organ's firm persuasions,
He oft had roar'd on more sublime occasions.
As if the poor machine had got the gripes;
As if, too, 'twas the organ's firm persuasions,
He oft had roar'd on more sublime occasions.
Now Chapman took, 'midst great compeers, his station—
Crew open'd subject in a fair oration—
Then clapp'd was Crew—to him applause was news—
Now 'gan the bard his poem to recite,
And, soaring, bade poor common sense good night,
So lofty were the pinions of his muse!
Crew open'd subject in a fair oration—
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Now 'gan the bard his poem to recite,
And, soaring, bade poor common sense good night,
So lofty were the pinions of his muse!
Thick as the pattering hail his praises show'r—
So strong his poetry's mechanic pow'r,
High mounts the monarch by his tuneful lever;
His muse's magnifying art so great,
Behold his George, an Alfred form complete;
Small Peg, Goliah, and her knife her cleaver!
So strong his poetry's mechanic pow'r,
High mounts the monarch by his tuneful lever;
His muse's magnifying art so great,
Behold his George, an Alfred form complete;
Small Peg, Goliah, and her knife her cleaver!
Now back the sable bodies mov'd again,
Like beetles all so thick, a crawling host;
Whilst contemplation wrapp'd the loyal train,
Expecting, by the next day's post,
To see their acts in pompous print display'd,
And wreaths of glory crown the cavalcade!
Like beetles all so thick, a crawling host;
Whilst contemplation wrapp'd the loyal train,
Expecting, by the next day's post,
To see their acts in pompous print display'd,
And wreaths of glory crown the cavalcade!
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |