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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PROLOGUE TO THE EPISTLE. |
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The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||
403
PROLOGUE TO THE EPISTLE.
‘A cat may look upon a king;’
So says the proverb! and the proverb's right;
For monarch now is prov'd a human thing;
Although it lifts its nose to such a height.
The Lord's anointed is an antique phrase,
Left out by Dictionaries of our days.
King-making unto man is justly giv'n—
Once the great perquisite indeed of Heav'n.
I say, a cat may look upon a king—
But foreign potentates say, ‘No such thing.’
Sicilia's king, replete with right divine,
Thinks he may hunt his subjects like his swine;
And other continental kings, beside,
For glory and blood-royal all agog,
Think they may hunt a subject like a hog:
This mortifies of us small rogues the pride.
What hurts me more, and both my eyes expands,
And lifts with horror from my head, my wig,
Those birth-puff'd kings of foreign lands,
To common Christians, have preferr'd the pig!
So says the proverb! and the proverb's right;
For monarch now is prov'd a human thing;
Although it lifts its nose to such a height.
The Lord's anointed is an antique phrase,
Left out by Dictionaries of our days.
King-making unto man is justly giv'n—
Once the great perquisite indeed of Heav'n.
I say, a cat may look upon a king—
But foreign potentates say, ‘No such thing.’
Sicilia's king, replete with right divine,
Thinks he may hunt his subjects like his swine;
And other continental kings, beside,
For glory and blood-royal all agog,
Think they may hunt a subject like a hog:
This mortifies of us small rogues the pride.
What hurts me more, and both my eyes expands,
And lifts with horror from my head, my wig,
Those birth-puff'd kings of foreign lands,
To common Christians, have preferr'd the pig!
A dead pig, to be sure, is better eating
Than a dead Christian—handsomer for treating:
But both alive—how diff'rent in their nature!
Man surely is the much sublimer creature.
Than a dead Christian—handsomer for treating:
But both alive—how diff'rent in their nature!
Man surely is the much sublimer creature.
Since cats may look upon a king, I hope
A bard may write a letter to the Pope,
Though hand and glove with Heav'n—a great conuexion!
Who deals for souls, salvations from his wallet,
As from their shops, green-grocers, for the palate,
Deal garden-stuff of all complexion;
And sells a good snug seat amidst the skies,
To any wicked gentleman that dies;
As unto John, Sir Will, my lord, his grace,
Great Madam Schwellenbergen gives a place;
A cook-like dame, who understands place-carving,
And saves such worthy families from starving.
A bard may write a letter to the Pope,
404
Who deals for souls, salvations from his wallet,
As from their shops, green-grocers, for the palate,
Deal garden-stuff of all complexion;
And sells a good snug seat amidst the skies,
To any wicked gentleman that dies;
As unto John, Sir Will, my lord, his grace,
Great Madam Schwellenbergen gives a place;
A cook-like dame, who understands place-carving,
And saves such worthy families from starving.
So much for prologue to my Pope's Epistle;
To which his holiness may cry, ‘Go—whistle.’
Perchance his holiness may also add,
‘P---x take me, Peter, if you ar'n't too bad:
Dare fix thine impious foot on my dominions,
I'll pay thee for epistles and opinions.’
Well then, since things are bonâ fide so,
And Danger with his poniard lurks at Rome,
I'll not set off to kiss your worship's toe;
But wave the glory, and remain at home.
To which his holiness may cry, ‘Go—whistle.’
Perchance his holiness may also add,
‘P---x take me, Peter, if you ar'n't too bad:
Dare fix thine impious foot on my dominions,
I'll pay thee for epistles and opinions.’
Well then, since things are bonâ fide so,
And Danger with his poniard lurks at Rome,
I'll not set off to kiss your worship's toe;
But wave the glory, and remain at home.
The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||