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] |  |
TO MR. PITT.
DEAR as a di'mond to the best of queens,
Dear as to cormorants, of fish a shoal;
Dear to a German hog, as beds of beans;
Dear as a sixpence sav'd, to Mis'ry's soul:
Dear as to cormorants, of fish a shoal;
Dear to a German hog, as beds of beans;
Dear as a sixpence sav'd, to Mis'ry's soul:
Dear as the doctor's bill to this good nation,
Which Parliament, with tears of joy, survey'd;
Which brought about a much-desir'd salvation,
For which the doctors have been poorly paid:
Which Parliament, with tears of joy, survey'd;
Which brought about a much-desir'd salvation,
For which the doctors have been poorly paid:
Dear as the royal message
to the nation,
By which more money humbly is implor'd—
‘More money for the children's education—
Hard times! more money for the children's board:’
By which more money humbly is implor'd—
‘More money for the children's education—
Hard times! more money for the children's board:’
Dear as to valiant Glo'ster sword and gun;
Dear as a dock-leaf to a hungry ass;
Dear to the fam'd George Selwyn, as a pun;
Dear as to legs of mutton, caper sauce;
Dear as a dock-leaf to a hungry ass;
Dear to the fam'd George Selwyn, as a pun;
Dear as to legs of mutton, caper sauce;
211
Dear as the voice of flatt'ry to the proud;
Dear as to hackney-coachmen signs of rain,
Who count their shillings in a coming cloud,
And, pious, pray for Noah's flood again;
Dear as to hackney-coachmen signs of rain,
Who count their shillings in a coming cloud,
And, pious, pray for Noah's flood again;
So dear to monarchs is that idol pow'r!
So dear is prompt obedience to a king!
Far, of resistance be the trying hour!
God bless us! what a melancholy thing!
So dear is prompt obedience to a king!
Far, of resistance be the trying hour!
God bless us! what a melancholy thing!
Yet opposition-fraught to royal wishes,
Quite counter to a gracious king's commands,
Behold! th' academicians, those strange fishes,
For Wheatley lifted their unhallow'd hands.
Quite counter to a gracious king's commands,
Behold! th' academicians, those strange fishes,
For Wheatley lifted their unhallow'd hands.
So then, those fellows have not learnt to crawl,
To play the spaniel, lick the foot, and fawn—
Oh, be their bones by tigers broken all!
Pleas'd, by wild horses could I see them drawn.—
To play the spaniel, lick the foot, and fawn—
Oh, be their bones by tigers broken all!
Pleas'd, by wild horses could I see them drawn.—
O Pitt! with thee I'm sorry, very sorry!
Not make a poor associate!—such a thing!
Who try'd to tarnish thus the royal glory?
What rebel balloted against his king!
Not make a poor associate!—such a thing!
Who try'd to tarnish thus the royal glory?
What rebel balloted against his king!
Then, sir, he is so bountiful a man!
A cataract of charity, I'll say—
Inform me any body, if you can,
Unmark'd by liberality a day!
A cataract of charity, I'll say—
Inform me any body, if you can,
Unmark'd by liberality a day!
Where'er he walks, where'er his wild career,
Through Chelt'nam, Weymouth, Exon, Plymouth, lo,
With joy his staring subjects all, so dear,
See from each step a stream of glory flow.
Through Chelt'nam, Weymouth, Exon, Plymouth, lo,
With joy his staring subjects all, so dear,
See from each step a stream of glory flow.
Thus, when that pretty animal an ---,
At night, on pavement gallops like the wind;
Fire kindling at his heels, behold him pass!
How bright the sparkles that hop out behind!
At night, on pavement gallops like the wind;
Fire kindling at his heels, behold him pass!
How bright the sparkles that hop out behind!
212
Nurs'd on the dunghill of the smiles of kings,
What mushrooms daily, to surprise us, start!
So nimbly the fair vegetable springs!
Such warmth prolific, can a smile impart!
What mushrooms daily, to surprise us, start!
So nimbly the fair vegetable springs!
Such warmth prolific, can a smile impart!
Such is of royalty the envied pow'r!
Then perish ev'ry academic plant!
Oh, may they feel nor sun, nor fost'ring show'r!
Blow round them, O ye cold, cold winds of want!
Then perish ev'ry academic plant!
Oh, may they feel nor sun, nor fost'ring show'r!
Blow round them, O ye cold, cold winds of want!
What nabob structures rise, with wings outspread,
Whose owners' necks will merit to be lopp'd!
With what sublimity they lift the head,
By Death and Ruin's Atlas-shoulders propp'd!
Whose owners' necks will merit to be lopp'd!
With what sublimity they lift the head,
By Death and Ruin's Atlas-shoulders propp'd!
But such thy master's purity of soul,
His eyes upon the sword of justice feast:
‘Curse on the pearl (he cries) by rapine stole;
Curse on the di'monds of the bleeding east!
His eyes upon the sword of justice feast:
‘Curse on the pearl (he cries) by rapine stole;
Curse on the di'monds of the bleeding east!
‘Curse on the villains that whole realms despoil!
Curse on the cruel hand (we hear him cry)
That steals the fruit of labour's honest toil,
And draws the tear of blood from Pity's eye!’
Curse on the cruel hand (we hear him cry)
That steals the fruit of labour's honest toil,
And draws the tear of blood from Pity's eye!’
O Pitt! what punishment shall we contrive,
To suit this saucy, self-important crew?
How shall we smoke this academic hive,
That stinging makes us look so very blue?
To suit this saucy, self-important crew?
How shall we smoke this academic hive,
That stinging makes us look so very blue?
Oh, bid our monarch draw his purse-strings tight;
Contract his open heart, of giant stature;
Use ev'ry species of little spite,
And violate for once his noble nature.
Contract his open heart, of giant stature;
Use ev'ry species of little spite,
And violate for once his noble nature.
Oh, bid our sov'reign take it not to heart;
For downright brutes are Britons, nine in ten:
At curbs and whips behold us asses start,
And insolently claim the rights of men!
For downright brutes are Britons, nine in ten:
At curbs and whips behold us asses start,
And insolently claim the rights of men!
And yet, I moderation wish to kings!
Yes, yes, they should be merciful, though strong.
As sceptres have been found in France with wings,
One would not lose an empire for a song.
Yes, yes, they should be merciful, though strong.
As sceptres have been found in France with wings,
One would not lose an empire for a song.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |