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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| III. | ODE III. |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
ODE III.
I own I love the prince—his virtues charm—
I know the youth receiv'd from heav'n a heart:
In friendship's cause I know his bosom warm,
That maketh certain folk with wonder start.
I know the youth receiv'd from heav'n a heart:
In friendship's cause I know his bosom warm,
That maketh certain folk with wonder start.
'Tis true that from my soul the man I hate,
Immers'd in mammon, and by mis'ry got;
Who, to complete his dinner, licks his plate,
And wishes to have ev'ry thing for nought:
Immers'd in mammon, and by mis'ry got;
Who, to complete his dinner, licks his plate,
And wishes to have ev'ry thing for nought:
Who if he gam'd, the dice would meanly cog;
Rob the blind beggar's scrip, and starve his dog—
And that there are such wretches near a throne,
Degraded nature tells it with a groan.
Rob the blind beggar's scrip, and starve his dog—
And that there are such wretches near a throne,
Degraded nature tells it with a groan.
Perdition catch the money-grasping wretch,
With hook-like fingers ever on the stretch;
Who sighing, vents on Charity a curse,
That asks for want a penny from his purse:
With hook-like fingers ever on the stretch;
Who sighing, vents on Charity a curse,
That asks for want a penny from his purse:
The heart that lodges in that miser's breast,
For money feels the hunger of the shark;
Resembling too, the rusty iron chest
That holds his idol—close, and hard, and dark.
For money feels the hunger of the shark;
Resembling too, the rusty iron chest
That holds his idol—close, and hard, and dark.
Give me the youth who dares at times unbend,
And scorning moderation's prude-like stare,
Can to her teeth, and to the world, declare,
Ebriety a merit with a friend.
And scorning moderation's prude-like stare,
Can to her teeth, and to the world, declare,
Ebriety a merit with a friend.
63
When friendship draws the corks, and bids the dome
With mirth and sallies of the soul resound:
When friendship bids the bowl o'erflowing foam,
Till morning eyes the board with plenty crown'd;
Behold the virtues that sublimely soar,
Instead of meanly damning, cry ‘encore.’
With mirth and sallies of the soul resound:
When friendship bids the bowl o'erflowing foam,
Till morning eyes the board with plenty crown'd;
Behold the virtues that sublimely soar,
Instead of meanly damning, cry ‘encore.’
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |