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

Go, sirs, with halters round your wretched necks,
Which some contrition for your crime bespeaks,
And much-offended majesty implore:
Say, piteous, kneeling in the royal view—
‘Have pity on a sad abandon'd crew,
And we, great king, will sin no more:
Forgive, dread sir, the crying sin,
And Mister Laurence shall come in.’

Your hemp cravats, your pray'r, your Tyburn mien,
May pardon gain from our good king and queen,
For they are not inexorable people;
Although you thus have run their patience hard;
And though you are, to such great folk compar'd,
Candle-extinguishers to some high steeple.

For kings (I speak it to their vast applause)
Can pardon, if you let them gain their cause;
So gracious, they will give you such kind looks,
As fell upon the shav'd and humble cooks;
Kind as a gard'ner's charitable eye
On some crush'd snail, or bird-lim'd fly;

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Kind as the epicure's, who fond of mites,
Mingleth compassion with his bites.

How vile to make the front of monarch's low'r!
I see him, all like vinegar so sour,
Look black!—but, still good-humour's in his soul,
And now I mark it, stealing forth so sweet—
Stream of forgiveness, what a treat!—
I see his eye, with love re-kindling, roll.

Thus, when the demon of the storm has driv'n
The sun, that youth of splendor, from his heav'n,
Drown'd ev'ry vale, and blasted ev'ry bloom;
Cast o'er poor Nature's smile a sable shroud,
Each beauty blotted with his inkiest cloud,
And giv'n a cheerful world to gloom:

Lo! through the giant shade, a lonely ray,
Peeps from the op'ning west with timid air,
(Till forc'd by shouldering clouds away),
Informing man, ‘To-morrow will be fair.’

Oh, had you rev'renc'd a great k---g's commands,
What trouble he had taken off your hands!
For art you had not rang'd the realm around!
His keener eye the precious gem had found!
Then, what an honour to have seen appointed,
Your very nightman, by the Lord's anointed!