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Horace in London

Consisting of imitations of the first two books of the odes of Horace. By the authors of the rejected addresses, or the new theatrum poetarum [Horace and James Smith]
Smith, Horace (1779-1849)

collapse sectionI. 
BOOK I.
 I. 
ODE I. To John Bull, Esq.
 II. 
ODE II. HURLY BURLY!
 III. 
ODE III. THE BARONET'S YACHT.
 IV. 
ODE IV. BRIGHTON.
 V. 
ODE V. THE JILT.
 VI. 
ODE VI. WALTER SCOTT.
 VII. 
ODE VII. THE OUSTED TREASURER.
 VIII. 
ODE VIII. To HUNTINGDON, the Preacher.
 IX. 
ODE IX. WINTER.
 X. 
ODE X. TRIBUTARY STANZAS to GRIMALDI THE CLOWN.
 XI. 
ODE XI. FORTUNE TELLING.
 XII. 
ODE XII. To Emanuel Swedenborg.
 XIII. 
ODE XIII. THE JEALOUS LOVER.
 XIV. 
ODE XIV. To Mr. KEMBLE,
 XV. 
ODE XV. THE PARTHENON.
 XVI. 
ODE XVI. The EDINBURGH REVIEWERS.
 XVII. 
ODE XVII. THE WELCH COTTAGE.
 XVIII. 
ODE XVIII. MERRY AND WISE.
 XIX. 
ODE XIX. PLEASING PETULANCE.
 XX. 
ODE XX. THE BARD'S BANQUET.
 XXII. 
ODE XXII. THE BAILIFF.
 XXIII. 
ODE XXIII. CUPID'S INVITATION.
 XXIV. 
ODE XXIV. HORNE TOOKE's EPITAPH.
 XXV. 
ODE XXV. MY GODWIN!
 XXVI. 
ODE XXVI. THE STRAW BONNET.
 XXVII. 
ODE XXVII. THE BUMPER TOAST.
 XXVIII. 
ODE XXVIII. LUCRETIUS AND DR. BUSBY.
 XXIX. 
ODE XXIX. The TERMAGANT.
 XXX. 
ODE XXX. PRIVATE BOXES.
 XXXI. 
ODE XXXI. TO APOLLO.
 XXXII. 
ODE XXXII. To the COMIC MUSE.
 XXXIII. 
ODE XXXIII. CROSS PURPOSES.
 XXXIV. 
ODE XXXIV. CŒLEBS IN SEARCH OF A WIFE.
 XXXV. 
ODE XXXV.
 XXXVI. 
ODE XXXVI. THE GAOL DELIVERY.
 XXXVII. 
ODE XXXVII. LOB'S POUND.
 XXXVIII. 
ODE XXXVIII. THE BILL OF FARE.
expand sectionII. 
BOOK II.

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90

ODE XXIX. The TERMAGANT.

Icci beatis nunc Arabum invides.

To Lucy.
Ah, Lucy, how chang'd are my prospects in life,
Since first you awaken'd love's flame!
So humble a bride, such a petulent wife,
Gadzooks! I scarce think you the same.
That badge which the husband's ascendance secures,
(The poor sans culottes never wore 'em)
You arrogate now as prescriptively yours,
In spite of all sense and decorum.
No longer your smile like a sunbeam appears,
But clouds your fair visage deform,
Which quickly find vent in a deluge of tears,
Or burst into thunder and storm.
91

O! who will now question that Venus's dove
Transform'd to a Vulture may feed
On the sensitive heart of the victim of love,
Condemn'd in close fetters to bleed;
Since you whom so lately an angel I thought,
Now acting the termagant's part,
Exult o'er the fetters which wedlock has wrought,
And tear without mercy my heart.
Your temper is changed from serene to perverse,
Your tongue from endearment to clatter:
I took you, for better, as well as for worse,
But find you are wholly the latter.
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