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 |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
356
TO THE SHIP.
O thou, so nicely painted, and so trim,
Success attend our court's delightful whim;
And all thy gaudy gentlemen on board;
With coaches just like gingerbread, so fine,
Amid the Asiatic world to shine,
And greet of China the imperial lord.
Success attend our court's delightful whim;
And all thy gaudy gentlemen on board;
With coaches just like gingerbread, so fine,
Amid the Asiatic world to shine,
And greet of China the imperial lord.
Methinks I view thee tow'ring at Canton:
I hear each wide-mouth'd salutation-gun;
I see thy streamers wanton in the gale;
I see the sallow natives crowd the shore,
I see them tremble at thy royal roar;
I see the very Mandarines turn pale.
I hear each wide-mouth'd salutation-gun;
I see thy streamers wanton in the gale;
I see the sallow natives crowd the shore,
I see them tremble at thy royal roar;
I see the very Mandarines turn pale.
Pagodas of Nang-yang, and Chou-chin-chou,
So lofty, to our trav'ling Britons bow;
Bow, mountains sky-enwrapp'd of Chin-chung-chan;
Floods of Ming-ho, your thund'ring voices raise;
Cuckoos of Ming-fou-you, exalt their praise,
With geese of Sou-chen-che, and Tang-ting-tan.
So lofty, to our trav'ling Britons bow;
Bow, mountains sky-enwrapp'd of Chin-chung-chan;
Floods of Ming-ho, your thund'ring voices raise;
Cuckoos of Ming-fou-you, exalt their praise,
With geese of Sou-chen-che, and Tang-ting-tan.
O monkeys of Tou-fou, pray line the road,
Hang by your tails, and all the branches load;
Then grin applause upon the gaudy throng,
And drop them honours as they pass along.
Hang by your tails, and all the branches load;
Then grin applause upon the gaudy throng,
And drop them honours as they pass along.
Frogs of Fou-si, O croak from pools of green;
Winnow, ye butterflies, around the scene;
Sing O be joyful, ev'ry village pig;
Goats, sheep, and oxen, through your pastures prance;
Ye buffaloes and dromedaries, dance;
And elephants, pray join th' unwieldy jig.
Winnow, ye butterflies, around the scene;
357
Goats, sheep, and oxen, through your pastures prance;
Ye buffaloes and dromedaries, dance;
And elephants, pray join th' unwieldy jig.
I mark, I mark, along the dusty road,
The glitt'ring coaches with their happy load,
All proudly rolling to Pe-kin's fair town;
And lo, arriv'd, I see the emp'ror stare,
Deep marv'ling at a sight so very rare;
And now, ye gods! I see the emp'ror frown.
The glitt'ring coaches with their happy load,
All proudly rolling to Pe-kin's fair town;
And lo, arriv'd, I see the emp'ror stare,
Deep marv'ling at a sight so very rare;
And now, ye gods! I see the emp'ror frown.
And now I hear the lofty emp'ror say,
‘Good folks, what is it that you want, I pray?’
And now I hear aloud Macartney cry,
‘Emp'ror, my court, inform'd that you were rich,
Sublimely feeling a strong money-itch,
Across the eastern ocean bade me fly;
‘Good folks, what is it that you want, I pray?’
And now I hear aloud Macartney cry,
‘Emp'ror, my court, inform'd that you were rich,
Sublimely feeling a strong money-itch,
Across the eastern ocean bade me fly;
‘With tin, and blankets, O great king, to barter,
And gimcracks rare for China-man and Tartar.
And gimcracks rare for China-man and Tartar.
‘But presents, presents are the things we mean:
Some pretty diamonds to our gracious queen,
Big as one's fist or so, or somewhat bigger,
Would cut upon her petticoat a figure—
A petticoat of whom each poet sings,
That beams on birth-days for the best of kings.
Some pretty diamonds to our gracious queen,
Big as one's fist or so, or somewhat bigger,
Would cut upon her petticoat a figure—
A petticoat of whom each poet sings,
That beams on birth-days for the best of kings.
‘Yes, presents are the things we chiefly wish—
These give not half the toil we find in trade.’—
On which th' astonish'd emp'ror cries, ‘Odsfish!
Presents;—present the rogues the bastinade.’
These give not half the toil we find in trade.’—
On which th' astonish'd emp'ror cries, ‘Odsfish!
Presents;—present the rogues the bastinade.’
Stern Resolution's eye, that flash'd with fate,
At danger cow'ring, wears a wither'd look;
Palsy'd his sinewy arm, where vengeance sate,
Whose grasp the rugged oak of ages shook—
His blood, so hot, grown suddenly so chill;
Sunk from a torrent to the creeping rill.
At danger cow'ring, wears a wither'd look;
Palsy'd his sinewy arm, where vengeance sate,
Whose grasp the rugged oak of ages shook—
His blood, so hot, grown suddenly so chill;
Sunk from a torrent to the creeping rill.
358
In short, behold with dread Macartney stare;
Behold him seiz'd, his seat of honour bare;
The bamboo sounds—alas! no voice of Fame:
Stripp'd, schoolboy-like, and now I see his train,
I see their lily bottoms writhe with pain,
And, like his lordship's, blush with blood and shame.
Behold him seiz'd, his seat of honour bare;
The bamboo sounds—alas! no voice of Fame:
Stripp'd, schoolboy-like, and now I see his train,
I see their lily bottoms writhe with pain,
And, like his lordship's, blush with blood and shame.
Ah! what avails the coat of scarlet dye,
And collar blue, around their pretty necks?
Ah! what the epaulettes that roast the eye,
And loyal buttons blazing with George Rex?
Heav'ns! if Kien Long resolves upon their stripping,
These are no talismans to ward a whipping.
And collar blue, around their pretty necks?
Ah! what the epaulettes that roast the eye,
And loyal buttons blazing with George Rex?
Heav'ns! if Kien Long resolves upon their stripping,
These are no talismans to ward a whipping.
Now with a mock solemnity of face,
I see the mighty emp'ror gravely place
Fools'-caps on all the poor degraded men—
And now I hear the solemn emp'ror say,
‘'Tis thus we kings of China folly pay;
Now, children, ye may all go home agen.’
I see the mighty emp'ror gravely place
Fools'-caps on all the poor degraded men—
And now I hear the solemn emp'ror say,
‘'Tis thus we kings of China folly pay;
Now, children, ye may all go home agen.’
O beauteous vessel, should this prove the case,
How in Old England wilt thou show thy face?
I fear thy visage will be wondrous long.
Know, it may happen—ministers and kings,
Like common folk, are fallible—poor things!
Too often sanguine, and as often wrong.
How in Old England wilt thou show thy face?
I fear thy visage will be wondrous long.
Know, it may happen—ministers and kings,
Like common folk, are fallible—poor things!
Too often sanguine, and as often wrong.
Yet, if successful, thou wilt be ador'd—
Lo, like a Cheshire cat our court will grin!
How glad to find as many gems on board,
As will not leave thee room to stick a pin!
Lo, like a Cheshire cat our court will grin!
How glad to find as many gems on board,
As will not leave thee room to stick a pin!
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |