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. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. | ODE IV. |
| V. |
|
|
|
| III. |
| IV. |
 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
ODE IV.
Peter breaketh out into a strange Rhapsody, so unlike Peter, who christeneth himself the Poet of the People—He adviseth the Emperor to Actions never practised by Kings!—Is it, or is it not, one continued Vein of happy Irony?
Give nothing from thy privy purse away,
I say—
Nay, should thy coffers and thy bags run o'er,
Neglect or pension Merit on the poor.
I say—
Nay, should thy coffers and thy bags run o'er,
Neglect or pension Merit on the poor.
375
Give not to hospitals—thy name's enough:
To death-face Famine, not a pinch of snuff—
On wealth thy quarry, keep a falcon-view,
And from thy very children steal their due.
To death-face Famine, not a pinch of snuff—
On wealth thy quarry, keep a falcon-view,
And from thy very children steal their due.
Shouldst thou, in hunts, be tumbled from thy horse,
Unlucky, 'midst some river's rapid course;
Though sharp between thyself and Death the strife,
Give not the page a sous that saves thy life.
Unlucky, 'midst some river's rapid course;
Though sharp between thyself and Death the strife,
Give not the page a sous that saves thy life.
Should love allure thee to some fair-one's arms,
Who yields thee all the luxury of charms,
And deluges thy panting heart with blisses;
Take not a sixpence from thy groaning chest,
To buy a ribband for the fragrant breast
That swell'd with all its ardour to thy kisses.
Who yields thee all the luxury of charms,
And deluges thy panting heart with blisses;
Take not a sixpence from thy groaning chest,
To buy a ribband for the fragrant breast
That swell'd with all its ardour to thy kisses.
Buy not a garland for her flowing hair;
Buy not of mittins, or of gloves, a pair,
To shield her hands from frost, or summer's ray;
Buy not a bonnet to defend her face,
Nor 'kerchief to protect each snowy grace,
And deck her on some rural holiday.
But suffer her in homely geer to pine,
In simple elegance where others shine.
Buy not of mittins, or of gloves, a pair,
To shield her hands from frost, or summer's ray;
Buy not a bonnet to defend her face,
Nor 'kerchief to protect each snowy grace,
And deck her on some rural holiday.
But suffer her in homely geer to pine,
In simple elegance where others shine.
Thou probably mayst answer, with a groan,
‘What! give a vile contagion to the throne!
Perdition catch the wealth, in heaps that lies,
Whilst trodden merit lifts her asking eyes.
‘What! give a vile contagion to the throne!
Perdition catch the wealth, in heaps that lies,
Whilst trodden merit lifts her asking eyes.
‘That calf, shall garish Ostentation grin,
Deck'd by the sweat of Labour's sun-burnt skin,
Poor cart-horse, envied ev'n his very oats?
Heav'ns! shall this mummer Ostentation cry,
Roast in the sun, thou mob, in ashes lie;
Mine be the guineas, slave, and thine the groats.
Deck'd by the sweat of Labour's sun-burnt skin,
Poor cart-horse, envied ev'n his very oats?
Heav'ns! shall this mummer Ostentation cry,
Roast in the sun, thou mob, in ashes lie;
Mine be the guineas, slave, and thine the groats.
‘Mine be the luxury of wine and oil,
Thine that I condescend to drink thy toil.’
Ah! say'st thou thus?—dares honour this high pitch?
Then, noble emp'ror, thou wilt ne'er be rich.
Thine that I condescend to drink thy toil.’
Ah! say'st thou thus?—dares honour this high pitch?
Then, noble emp'ror, thou wilt ne'er be rich.
376
Gold should not gather in a subject's chest—
The crew grows mutinous—it cannot rest;
It talketh of equality, indeed!
No, let the monarch's bags and coffers hold
The flatt'ring, mighty, nay, all-mighty gold;
On this shall brawny Pow'r his sinews feed;
The crew grows mutinous—it cannot rest;
It talketh of equality, indeed!
No, let the monarch's bags and coffers hold
The flatt'ring, mighty, nay, all-mighty gold;
On this shall brawny Pow'r his sinews feed;
Jove's eagle near the throne, with eye of fire,
The vengeance-bearer of the royal ire!
Enrich the realm, Subordination dies—
Wealth gives a wing that dashes at the skies.
The vengeance-bearer of the royal ire!
Enrich the realm, Subordination dies—
Wealth gives a wing that dashes at the skies.
Blush not, though up to neck, to nose, in gold,
To let thy fav'rite mandarine be told,
‘The emp'ror pants for money—hunt about:’
And should thy minister, with impious breath,
Say, ‘Sire, we've squeezed the people nigh to death,’
Off with the villain's head, or kick him out.
To let thy fav'rite mandarine be told,
‘The emp'ror pants for money—hunt about:’
And should thy minister, with impious breath,
Say, ‘Sire, we've squeezed the people nigh to death,’
Off with the villain's head, or kick him out.
'Tis pleasant to look down upon the hovel,
And count the royal treasure with a shovel!
Pleasant to mark the whites of wishing eyes,
And hear of Poverty the fruitless sighs!
Grand, on their knees to see the million cow'r;
Pale, starv'd submsssion is the feast of pow'r.
And count the royal treasure with a shovel!
Pleasant to mark the whites of wishing eyes,
And hear of Poverty the fruitless sighs!
Grand, on their knees to see the million cow'r;
Pale, starv'd submsssion is the feast of pow'r.
Pr'ythee, to Europe come, Kien Long, with speed:
We'll give thee much instruction on this head;
Nay, some examples also shall be brought,
Which beats a cold dry precept all to nought.
Precept's a pigmy, hectic, weak, and slight;
Example is a giant in his might.
Then, prythee, to our Europe haste to stare;
Lo, Europe shall produce thee such a pair!
A pair! to whom lean Av'rice is a fool,
And means to take a lesson from their school.
We'll give thee much instruction on this head;
Nay, some examples also shall be brought,
Which beats a cold dry precept all to nought.
Precept's a pigmy, hectic, weak, and slight;
Example is a giant in his might.
Then, prythee, to our Europe haste to stare;
Lo, Europe shall produce thee such a pair!
A pair! to whom lean Av'rice is a fool,
And means to take a lesson from their school.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |