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] |  |
ODE VIII.
Hark! hark! I hear yon courtier pair exclaim,
‘This Peter is the most audacious dog;
The fellow hath no rev'rence for a name—
A king to him is scarce above a log.’
Sometimes below
a log, sirs, if you please;
A bold assertion, to be prov'd with ease.
‘This Peter is the most audacious dog;
The fellow hath no rev'rence for a name—
A king to him is scarce above a log.’
69
A bold assertion, to be prov'd with ease.
But, goodly gentlemen, I do desire ye,
T'avoid in this affair minute inquiry
Concerning their respective merit;
I fear less prudence will be seen than spirit;
Logs universally are useful things;
A postulatum not allow'd to kings.
T'avoid in this affair minute inquiry
Concerning their respective merit;
I fear less prudence will be seen than spirit;
Logs universally are useful things;
A postulatum not allow'd to kings.
‘For us, on Honour's pinnacle,’ you cry,
‘Whose heads are nearly level with the sky,
High basking in the blaze of regal pow'r;
This Peter, seldom from rank pride exempt,
Calls us, with scowling eyes of fix'd contempt,
A pair of jackdaws perch'd upon a tow'r.
‘Whose heads are nearly level with the sky,
High basking in the blaze of regal pow'r;
This Peter, seldom from rank pride exempt,
Calls us, with scowling eyes of fix'd contempt,
A pair of jackdaws perch'd upon a tow'r.
‘Archbishops, bishops, servants of the Lord,
Head servants, too, who preach the purest word,
With waving hands enforcing goodly matter,
No more by him, the scorner, are accounted,
Than sweepers on their chimneys mounted,
That wield their brush, and to the vulgar chatter.’
Head servants, too, who preach the purest word,
With waving hands enforcing goodly matter,
No more by him, the scorner, are accounted,
Than sweepers on their chimneys mounted,
That wield their brush, and to the vulgar chatter.’
True, my dear lords—for merit only warm,
Rank and fine trappings long have ceas'd to charm—
And yet, their eyes the stupid million bless,
For barely getting sights of rank and dress!
Rank and fine trappings long have ceas'd to charm—
And yet, their eyes the stupid million bless,
For barely getting sights of rank and dress!
When judges a campaigning go,
And on their benches look so big,
What gives them consequence, I trow,
Is nothing but a bushel wig;
And on their benches look so big,
What gives them consequence, I trow,
Is nothing but a bushel wig;
Yet bumpkins, gaping with a bullock stare,
See learning lodg'd in ev'ry hair,
But heads, not hair, my admiration draw;
Not wigs, but wisdom, strikes my soul with awe.
See learning lodg'd in ev'ry hair,
But heads, not hair, my admiration draw;
Not wigs, but wisdom, strikes my soul with awe.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |