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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A POETICAL, SUPPLICATING, MODEST, AND AFFECTING EPISTLE TO THOSE LITERARY COLOSSUSES THE REVIEWERS. |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
1
A POETICAL, SUPPLICATING, MODEST, AND AFFECTING EPISTLE TO THOSE LITERARY COLOSSUSES THE REVIEWERS.
Carmine, Dî Superi placantur, carmine, Manes.
Vast are the pow'rs of verse—indeed so strong,
Angels and devils can be sooth'd by song.
Vast are the pow'rs of verse—indeed so strong,
Angels and devils can be sooth'd by song.
3
Fathers of wisdom, a poor wight befriend!
Oh, hear my simple prayer in simple lays:
In formâ pauperis behold I bend,
And of your worships ask a little praise.
Oh, hear my simple prayer in simple lays:
In formâ pauperis behold I bend,
And of your worships ask a little praise.
I am no cormorant for fame, d'ye see;
I ask not all the laurel, but a sprig!
Then hear me, guardians of the sacred tree,
And stick a leaf or two about my wig.
I ask not all the laurel, but a sprig!
Then hear me, guardians of the sacred tree,
And stick a leaf or two about my wig.
In sonnet, ode, and legendary tale,
Soon will the press my tuneful works display;
Then do not damn 'em, and prevent the sale;
And your petitioner shall ever pray.
Soon will the press my tuneful works display;
Then do not damn 'em, and prevent the sale;
And your petitioner shall ever pray.
My labours damn'd, the Muse with grief will groan—
The censure dire my lantern jaws will rue!
Know, I have teeth and stomach like your own,
And that I wish to eat as well as you.
The censure dire my lantern jaws will rue!
Know, I have teeth and stomach like your own,
And that I wish to eat as well as you.
I never said, like murderers in their dens,
You secret met in cloud-capp'd garret high,
With hatchets, scalping knives in shape of pens,
To bid, like Mohocks, hapless authors die:
You secret met in cloud-capp'd garret high,
With hatchets, scalping knives in shape of pens,
To bid, like Mohocks, hapless authors die:
Nor said (in your Reviews, together strung)
The limbs of butcher'd writers, cheek by jowl,
Look'd like the legs of flies on cobwebs hung
Before the hungry spider's dreary hole.
The limbs of butcher'd writers, cheek by jowl,
Look'd like the legs of flies on cobwebs hung
Before the hungry spider's dreary hole.
4
I ne'er declar'd, that, frightful as the Blacks,
In greasy flannel caps you met together,
With scarce a rag of shirt about your backs,
Or coat or breeches to keep out the weather.
In greasy flannel caps you met together,
With scarce a rag of shirt about your backs,
Or coat or breeches to keep out the weather.
Heav'n knows I'm innocent of all transgression
Against your honours, men of classic fame!
I ne'er abus'd your critical profession,
Whose dictum saves at once or damns a name.
Against your honours, men of classic fame!
I ne'er abus'd your critical profession,
Whose dictum saves at once or damns a name.
I never question'd your profound of head,
Nor vulgar, call'd your wit, your manners coarse;
Nor swore on butcher'd authors that you fed,
Like carrion crows upon a poor dead horse.
Nor vulgar, call'd your wit, your manners coarse;
Nor swore on butcher'd authors that you fed,
Like carrion crows upon a poor dead horse.
I never said, that, pedlar like, you sold,
Praise by the ounce, or pound, like snuff or cheese;
Too well I knew you silver scorn'd and gold—
Such dross, a sage Reviewer seldom sees!
Praise by the ounce, or pound, like snuff or cheese;
Too well I knew you silver scorn'd and gold—
Such dross, a sage Reviewer seldom sees!
I never hinted, that with half a crown
Books have been sent you by the scribbling tribe;
Which fee hath purchas'd pages of renown:
No, for I knew you'd spurn the paltry bribe.
Books have been sent you by the scribbling tribe;
Which fee hath purchas'd pages of renown:
No, for I knew you'd spurn the paltry bribe.
I ne'er averr'd, you critics to a man,
For pence, would swear an owl excell'd the lark;
Nor call'd a coward gang, your grave Divan,
That stabb'd, like base assassins in the dark.
For pence, would swear an owl excell'd the lark;
Nor call'd a coward gang, your grave Divan,
That stabb'd, like base assassins in the dark.
I never prais'd, or blam'd, an author's book,
Until your wise opinions came abroad;
On these with holy rev'rence did I look:
With you I prais'd, or blam'd, so help me G---d!
Until your wise opinions came abroad;
On these with holy rev'rence did I look:
With you I prais'd, or blam'd, so help me G---d!
The fam'd Longinus all the world must know:
The gape of wonder Aristarchus drew,
As well as Alexander's tutor , lo!
All! all great critics, gentlemen, like you.
The gape of wonder Aristarchus drew,
As well as Alexander's tutor , lo!
All! all great critics, gentlemen, like you.
Did any ask me, ‘Pray, sir, your opinion
Of those Reviewers, who so bold bestride
The world of learning, and, with proud dominion,
High on the backs of crouching authors ride?’
Of those Reviewers, who so bold bestride
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High on the backs of crouching authors ride?’
Quick have I answer'd, in a rage, ‘Odsblood!
No works like theirs such criticism convey:
Not all the timber of Dodona's wood
E'er pour'd more sterling oracle than they.’
No works like theirs such criticism convey:
Not all the timber of Dodona's wood
E'er pour'd more sterling oracle than they.’
Did others cry, ‘Whate'er their brains indite,
Be sure, is excellent—a partial crew!
With Iö Paæns usher'd to the light,
And prais'd to folly in the next Review:’
Be sure, is excellent—a partial crew!
With Iö Paæns usher'd to the light,
And prais'd to folly in the next Review:’
This was my answer to each snarling elf
(My eye-balls fill'd with fire, my mouth with foam),
‘Zounds! is not justice due to one's dear self?
And should not charity begin at home?
(My eye-balls fill'd with fire, my mouth with foam),
‘Zounds! is not justice due to one's dear self?
And should not charity begin at home?
‘Full often I've been question'd with a sneer—
Think you one could not bribe 'em?’—‘Not a nation.’
‘A beef-stake, with a pot or two of beer,
Might save a little volume from damnation.’.
Think you one could not bribe 'em?’—‘Not a nation.’
‘A beef-stake, with a pot or two of beer,
Might save a little volume from damnation.’.
Furious I've answer'd, ‘Lo! my Lord Carlisle
Hath begg'd, in vain, a seat in Fame's old temple;
Though you applaud, their wisdoms will not smile;
And what they disapprove is cursed simple.
Hath begg'd, in vain, a seat in Fame's old temple;
Though you applaud, their wisdoms will not smile;
And what they disapprove is cursed simple.
‘Could gold succeed, enough the peer might raise,
Whose wealth would buy the critics o'er and o'er:
'Tis merit only can command their praise,
Witness the volumes of Miss Hannah More ;
Whose wealth would buy the critics o'er and o'er:
'Tis merit only can command their praise,
Witness the volumes of Miss Hannah More ;
‘The Search for Happiness, that beauteous song,
Which all of us would give our ears to own;
The Captive, Percy , that, like mustard strong,
Make our eyes weep, and understandings groan.’
Which all of us would give our ears to own;
The Captive, Percy , that, like mustard strong,
Make our eyes weep, and understandings groan.’
6
Hail Bristol town! Bœotia now no more,
Since Garrick's Sappho sings, though rather slowly,
All hail Miss Hannah! worth at least a score,
Ay, twenty score, of Chatterton and Rowley.
Since Garrick's Sappho sings, though rather slowly,
All hail Miss Hannah! worth at least a score,
Ay, twenty score, of Chatterton and Rowley.
Men of prodigious parts are mostly shy:
Great Newton's self this failing did inherit;
Thus, frequent, you avoid the public eye,
And hide, in lurking holes, a world of merit.
Great Newton's self this failing did inherit;
Thus, frequent, you avoid the public eye,
And hide, in lurking holes, a world of merit.
Yet oft your cautious modesties I see,
When from your bow'r with bats you wing the dark:
And Sundays, when no catchpoles prowl for prey,
On æther dining in St. James's Park.
When from your bow'r with bats you wing the dark:
And Sundays, when no catchpoles prowl for prey,
On æther dining in St. James's Park.
Meek sirs! in frays you choose not to appear,
A circumstance most natural to suppose,
And therefore, hide your precious heads, for fear
Some angry bard abus'd should pull your nose.
A circumstance most natural to suppose,
And therefore, hide your precious heads, for fear
Some angry bard abus'd should pull your nose.
The world's loud plaudit, lo! you don't desire,
Nor do you hastily on books decide;
But first at ev'ry coffee-house inquire,
How, in its favour, runs the public tide.
Nor do you hastily on books decide;
But first at ev'ry coffee-house inquire,
How, in its favour, runs the public tide.
There, Wisdom, often with a critic wig,
The face demure, knit brows, and forehead scowling,
I've seen o'er pamphlets, with importance big,
Mousing for faults, or, if you'll have it, owling.
The face demure, knit brows, and forehead scowling,
I've seen o'er pamphlets, with importance big,
Mousing for faults, or, if you'll have it, owling.
Herculean gentlemen! I dread your drubs;
Pity the lifted whites of both my eyes!
Strung with new strength beneath your massy clubs,
Alas! I shall not an Antæus rise.
Pity the lifted whites of both my eyes!
Strung with new strength beneath your massy clubs,
Alas! I shall not an Antæus rise.
Lo, like an elephant along the ground,
Great Caliban, the giant Johnson stretch'd!
The British Roscius too your clubs confound,
Whose fame the farthest of the stars hath reach'd.
Great Caliban, the giant Johnson stretch'd!
The British Roscius too your clubs confound,
Whose fame the farthest of the stars hath reach'd.
If such so easy sink beneath your might,
Ye gods! I may be done for in a trice:
Hurl'd by your rage to everlasting night—
Crack'd with that ease a beggar cracks his lice.
Ye gods! I may be done for in a trice:
Hurl'd by your rage to everlasting night—
Crack'd with that ease a beggar cracks his lice.
7
If, awful sirs, you grant me my petition;
With brother pamphlets shall my pamphlet shine;
And should it chance to pass a first edition,
In capitals shall stare your praise divine.
With brother pamphlets shall my pamphlet shine;
And should it chance to pass a first edition,
In capitals shall stare your praise divine.
Quote from my work as much as e'er you please;
For extracts, lo! I'll put no angry face on;
Nor fill a hungry lawyer's fist with fees,
To trounce a bookseller, like furious Mason .
For extracts, lo! I'll put no angry face on;
Nor fill a hungry lawyer's fist with fees,
To trounce a bookseller, like furious Mason .
Sage sirs! if favour in your sight I find,
If fame you grant, I'll bless each gen'rous giver;
Wish you sound coats, good stomachs, masters kind ,
Gallons of broth, and pounds of bullock's liver.
If fame you grant, I'll bless each gen'rous giver;
Wish you sound coats, good stomachs, masters kind ,
Gallons of broth, and pounds of bullock's liver.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |