The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] :: :: University of Virginia Library

Sweet haunt of solitude and rats,
Mice, tuneful owls, and purring cats;
Who, whilst we mortals sleep, the gloom pervade,
And wish not for the sun's all-seeing eye,
Your mousing mysteries to spy;
Blest, like philosophers, amidst the shade;

When Persecution, with an iron hand,
Dar'd drive the moral-menders from the land,
Call'd players,—friendly to the wand'ring crew,
Thine eye with tears survey'd the mighty wrong,
Thine open arms receiv'd the mournful throng—
Kings without shirts, and queens with half a shoe.

Alas! what dangers gloom'd of late around—
Monarchs and queens with halters nearly bound—
Duke, dukeling, princess, prince, consign'd to jail!
And, what the very soul of Pity shocks,
The poor old Lear was threat'ned with the stocks,
Cordelia with the cart's unfeeling tail.

Still cherish such rare royalty forlorn—
A Garrick in thy bosom may be born,

124

A Siddons too, of future fair renown:
For Love is not a squeamish god, they say;
As pleas'd to see his rites perform'd on hay,
As on the goose's soft and yielding down.

The same impudence, egotism, and conceit, as in the first Ode.

University of Virginia Library

ODE TO MY BARN.[_] The expulsion of a most excellent set of players from Kingsbridge in Devonshire, with the asylum offered them by the Author's Barn in an adjoining parish, is the foundation of the following Ode.

ODE TO MY BARN.
[_]

The expulsion of a most excellent set of players from Kingsbridge in Devonshire, with the asylum offered them by the Author's Barn in an adjoining parish, is the foundation of the following Ode.