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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| IV. | ODE IV. |
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| IV. |
 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
188
ODE IV.
Resistance turns me, like a napkin, pale;
Rebellion chills me into stone;
‘Tell not in Gath the tale,
Nor publish in the streets of Ascalon.’
Rebellion chills me into stone;
‘Tell not in Gath the tale,
Nor publish in the streets of Ascalon.’
Copy the manners of a court:
There (thanks to education for't)
Submission cow'ring creeps, with fearful eye,
Unceasing bends the willowy neck to ground,
In rev'rence, abject and profound,
Too humbly modest to behold the sky:
There (thanks to education for't)
Submission cow'ring creeps, with fearful eye,
Unceasing bends the willowy neck to ground,
In rev'rence, abject and profound,
Too humbly modest to behold the sky:
There, all alive too, Hawk Attention sits,
To study royal Humour's various fits;
With wings expanded, ready to fly post,
To east, to west, to north, or south,
To cater for a monarch's mighty mouth,
To get him bak'd, or grill'd, or broil'd, or roast:
To study royal Humour's various fits;
With wings expanded, ready to fly post,
To east, to west, to north, or south,
To cater for a monarch's mighty mouth,
To get him bak'd, or grill'd, or broil'd, or roast:
Now scampers to pick up each bit of news,
Which full-fed London ev'ry moment sp---s:
Then to the palace the rich treasure bears,
And pours the whole into the royal ears.
Which full-fed London ev'ry moment sp---s:
Then to the palace the rich treasure bears,
And pours the whole into the royal ears.
There Adulation, with her silver tongue,
Sweeter than Philomela's sweetest song,
Says unto majesty such things!
Tells him that Cœsar won not half his fame;
That Alexander was a childish name
Compar'd to his—the King of Kings!
Sweeter than Philomela's sweetest song,
Says unto majesty such things!
Tells him that Cœsar won not half his fame;
That Alexander was a childish name
Compar'd to his—the King of Kings!
Now smiling, staring huge surprise,
With such a brace of wonder-looking eyes,
On all the words from majesty that dart;
As if bright gems, as large as eggs of pullet,
Flow'd from the king's Golconda gullet,
Enough, indeed, to load a cart:
Her mouth so pleas'd the treasures to devour!
Wide as the port-hole of a seventy-four!
With such a brace of wonder-looking eyes,
On all the words from majesty that dart;
As if bright gems, as large as eggs of pullet,
Flow'd from the king's Golconda gullet,
Enough, indeed, to load a cart:
189
Wide as the port-hole of a seventy-four!
Such is the picture of a palace scene,
Drawn by an amateur I ween:
The outline chaste, and easy flowing;
The colouring not a whit too glowing.
Such, such is Adulation, charming maid!
Whose conduct you won't copy, I'm afraid.
Drawn by an amateur I ween:
The outline chaste, and easy flowing;
The colouring not a whit too glowing.
Such, such is Adulation, charming maid!
Whose conduct you won't copy, I'm afraid.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |