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] |  |
292
ODE TO IRONY.
O thou, with mouth demure and solemn eye,
Who laughest not, thou quaker-looking wight
But makest others roaring laugh outright,
Thus chacing widow Sorrow, and her sigh—
O thou who formest pills to purge the spleen
No more in Britain must thou dare be seen!
Who laughest not, thou quaker-looking wight
But makest others roaring laugh outright,
Thus chacing widow Sorrow, and her sigh—
O thou who formest pills to purge the spleen
No more in Britain must thou dare be seen!
There was a time, but not like ours so nice,
When thou could'st banish Folly, nay, and Vice—
Leagu'd with thy daughter Humour, damsel quaint,
And Wit, that could have tickled ev'n a saint.
When thou could'st banish Folly, nay, and Vice—
Leagu'd with thy daughter Humour, damsel quaint,
And Wit, that could have tickled ev'n a saint.
But times are alter'd! Certain greybeards say,
‘Ye vagabonds, you've had indeed your day;
But never dare to show your face agen,
To take vile liberties with lofty men.
Grin, if you please—with joke the world regale—
Yet mind, a critic hears you, call'd a jail.’
‘Ye vagabonds, you've had indeed your day;
But never dare to show your face agen,
To take vile liberties with lofty men.
Grin, if you please—with joke the world regale—
Yet mind, a critic hears you, call'd a jail.’
But, lo! fair Liberty divinely strong!
A patriot phalanx leads the dame along.
Thou, Wit, and Humour shall adorn her train—
And let me proudly join the noble few;
Whilst to the cause of glory true,
The muse shall shout her boldest strain.
A patriot phalanx leads the dame along.
Thou, Wit, and Humour shall adorn her train—
And let me proudly join the noble few;
Whilst to the cause of glory true,
The muse shall shout her boldest strain.
Ev'n I, 'midst such a patriot band,
Will gain importance through the land;
Rise, from a poor extinguisher, a steeple—
And, O Ambition, hear thy suppliant's prayer,
A sprig of thy unfading laurel spare,
And crown me, crown me poet of the people.
Will gain importance through the land;
Rise, from a poor extinguisher, a steeple—
And, O Ambition, hear thy suppliant's prayer,
A sprig of thy unfading laurel spare,
And crown me, crown me poet of the people.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |