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] |  |
74
A HINT TO A POOR DEMOCRAT.
Say not unto a k---, ‘Thou fool!’—For why?
'Tis unpolite—though possibly no lie:
The speech too blights Preferment's opening bud.
Make monarchs and Dame Wisdom near relations,
And all the Virtues too—such kin-creations
May work thy temporalities much good.
'Tis unpolite—though possibly no lie:
The speech too blights Preferment's opening bud.
Make monarchs and Dame Wisdom near relations,
And all the Virtues too—such kin-creations
May work thy temporalities much good.
Laud to each word, however weak, be giv'n,
And let each earthy action scent of Heav'n.
And let each earthy action scent of Heav'n.
To cry, ‘Thou fool!’ were foolish, let me say;
Because kings have so much to give away.—
Steps to preferment are compos'd of flatt'ries:
So easily ye scale her lofty walls,
Just as ye mount the summit of St. Paul's—
But truths!—aye, what are truths?—oh! fatal batt'ries!
Because kings have so much to give away.—
Steps to preferment are compos'd of flatt'ries:
So easily ye scale her lofty walls,
Just as ye mount the summit of St. Paul's—
But truths!—aye, what are truths?—oh! fatal batt'ries!
Or if we change the figure, fatal ropes,
That of Ambition hang the lofty hopes.
Truths should be only spoken of the Devil;
Though that's ungrateful too, and eke uncivil.
That of Ambition hang the lofty hopes.
Truths should be only spoken of the Devil;
Though that's ungrateful too, and eke uncivil.
‘But hast not thou,’ exclaims the man of spleen?
‘Taken strange liberties with k--- and q---?
Laugh'd at Idolatry who hugs a throne?
Well! grant my want of rev'rence for a crown;
Equal to him is Fortune's smile and frown,
Whose modest teeth can deign to pick a bone.
‘Taken strange liberties with k--- and q---?
Laugh'd at Idolatry who hugs a throne?
Well! grant my want of rev'rence for a crown;
Equal to him is Fortune's smile and frown,
Whose modest teeth can deign to pick a bone.
My passions are the children (easy creatures)
Of Moderation! boast the mother's features,
And mother's chaste simplicity, the dove;
Can sleep upon the humble sod, and swill,
With great good glee, the valley's lucid rill,
And batten on the berries of the grove.
Of Moderation! boast the mother's features,
And mother's chaste simplicity, the dove;
75
With great good glee, the valley's lucid rill,
And batten on the berries of the grove.
Look at yon group of sucking pigs—how blest!
What makes them so?—clean straw to form a nest!
So slight a thing their happiness composes!
What dialogue! how arch they squint about!
Now bury their sweet heads—now pull them out,
And toss the wisps so white upon their noses.
What makes them so?—clean straw to form a nest!
So slight a thing their happiness composes!
What dialogue! how arch they squint about!
Now bury their sweet heads—now pull them out,
And toss the wisps so white upon their noses.
These pigs are just my passions, that can draw
Mirth and contentment from a simple straw.
Mirth and contentment from a simple straw.
Thy passions are of lofty wing perchance,
Pant for the ortolan and wines of France;
Unblest, if ven'son turn not on thy spit;
Unblest, if turtle smoke not on thy board.
Go then, and flatter Britain's mighty lord,
Kneel to Dundas, and prostrate fall to Pitt.
Pant for the ortolan and wines of France;
Unblest, if ven'son turn not on thy spit;
Unblest, if turtle smoke not on thy board.
Go then, and flatter Britain's mighty lord,
Kneel to Dundas, and prostrate fall to Pitt.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |