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] |  |
124
ODE TO JURYMEN.
Sirs, it may happen, by the grace of God,
That I, great Peter, one day come before ye,
To answer to the man of wig, for ode,
Full of sublimity, and pleasant story.
That I, great Peter, one day come before ye,
To answer to the man of wig, for ode,
Full of sublimity, and pleasant story.
Yes, it may so fall out that lofty men,
Dundas, and Richmond, Hawk'sb'ry, Portland, Pitt,
May wish to cut the nib of Peter's pen,
And, cruel, draw the holders of his wit.
Dundas, and Richmond, Hawk'sb'ry, Portland, Pitt,
May wish to cut the nib of Peter's pen,
And, cruel, draw the holders of his wit.
Nay, Dame Injustice in their cause engage,
To clap the gentle poet in a cage!
And should a grimly judge for death harangue,
Don't let the poet of the people hang.
To clap the gentle poet in a cage!
And should a grimly judge for death harangue,
Don't let the poet of the people hang.
What are my crimes? A poor tame cur am I,
Though some will swear I've snapp'd them by the heels;
A puppy's pinch, that's all, I don't deny;
But Lord! how sensibly a great man feels!
Though some will swear I've snapp'd them by the heels;
A puppy's pinch, that's all, I don't deny;
But Lord! how sensibly a great man feels!
A harmless joke, at times, on kings and queens;
A little joke on lofty earls and lords;
Smiles at the splendid homage of court scenes,
The modes, the manners, sentiments, and words:
A little joke on lofty earls and lords;
Smiles at the splendid homage of court scenes,
The modes, the manners, sentiments, and words:
A joke on Marg'ret Nicholson's mad knights;
A joke upon the shave of cooks at court,
Charms the fair muse, and eke the world delights;
A pretty piece of inoffensive sport.
A joke upon the shave of cooks at court,
Charms the fair muse, and eke the world delights;
A pretty piece of inoffensive sport.
Lo, in a little inoffensive smile,
There lurks no lever to o'erturn the state,
And king and parliament! intention vile!
And hurl the queen of nations to her fate.
There lurks no lever to o'erturn the state,
125
And hurl the queen of nations to her fate.
No gunpowder my modest garrets hold,
Dark lanterns, blunderbusses, masks, and matches;
Few words my simple furniture unfold;
A bed, a stool, a rusty coat in patches.
Dark lanterns, blunderbusses, masks, and matches;
Few words my simple furniture unfold;
A bed, a stool, a rusty coat in patches.
Carpets, nor chandeliers so bright, are mine:
Nor mirrors, ogling Vanity to please;
Spaniels, nor lap-dogs, with their furs so fine:
Alas! my little livestock are—my fleas!
Nor mirrors, ogling Vanity to please;
Spaniels, nor lap-dogs, with their furs so fine:
Alas! my little livestock are—my fleas!
No, sirs! I wish not to blow up the realm!
But thus I've pray'd—‘Her life may Albion keep!
Curs'd be the treach'rous fiends, who, at the helm,
Would sink the vessel in the gaping deep!
But thus I've pray'd—‘Her life may Albion keep!
Curs'd be the treach'rous fiends, who, at the helm,
Would sink the vessel in the gaping deep!
‘May Liberty sit firm upon her throne;
And he who dares to shake her, vengeance meet,
No matter what his grandeur—let him groan,
And Hell's best brimstone the black miscreant sweat!
And he who dares to shake her, vengeance meet,
No matter what his grandeur—let him groan,
And Hell's best brimstone the black miscreant sweat!
‘No longer, like his dough, may our Lord May'r
Turn pliable, and join the busy Reeves—
State jackall hunting through the midnight air,
Like Bow-street blood-hounds in pursuit of thieves!
Turn pliable, and join the busy Reeves—
State jackall hunting through the midnight air,
Like Bow-street blood-hounds in pursuit of thieves!
‘And should a judge (a Jefferies) rush to kill;
Fierce, like the Libyan savage from his den;
Their glorious pow'rs, at once, may juries feel,
And still sublimer, feel that they are men!
Fierce, like the Libyan savage from his den;
Their glorious pow'rs, at once, may juries feel,
And still sublimer, feel that they are men!
‘May Richmond's duke, of valour find increase,
And, by example, fire the soldier souls;
To invalids afford more frequent fleece,
And bless the veterans with meat and coals!
And, by example, fire the soldier souls;
To invalids afford more frequent fleece,
And bless the veterans with meat and coals!
‘And may his Grace's fate-improving brains,
With guns of leather much old Death surprise;
Delight the tyrant with his dread campaigns,
And send his pale dominions vast supplies.
With guns of leather much old Death surprise;
Delight the tyrant with his dread campaigns,
And send his pale dominions vast supplies.
126
‘May Brudenell's head in sense and grace improve!
In mercy's balm may B---'s heart be rich—
Feel for a sheep-stealer a little love;
Whose fur-clad paws alike for mutton itch!
In mercy's balm may B---'s heart be rich—
Feel for a sheep-stealer a little love;
Whose fur-clad paws alike for mutton itch!
‘May Health, sweet Health, attend on civil list,
So very apt to sink in a decline:
Whom Doctor Pitt with med'cines can assist—
A great physician, whose prescriptions shine!
So very apt to sink in a decline:
Whom Doctor Pitt with med'cines can assist—
A great physician, whose prescriptions shine!
‘May kings and queens, whom much the muse reveres,
With wonted charity themselves comport;
And Lady Truth approach the royal ears,
And Lady Wisdom be receiv'd at court!
With wonted charity themselves comport;
And Lady Truth approach the royal ears,
And Lady Wisdom be receiv'd at court!
‘No more in courts may weeds of Folly thrive,
'Mid royal smile, their sunshine, waxing strong;
Or roaring laughter must be kept alive,
And Peter's Clio never want a song.
'Mid royal smile, their sunshine, waxing strong;
Or roaring laughter must be kept alive,
And Peter's Clio never want a song.
‘May ev'ry king be lov'd by all the arts;
And eke may all the arts be lov'd by him:
And when his money from the purse departs,
Not play at ducks and drakes on waves of whim,
And eke may all the arts be lov'd by him:
And when his money from the purse departs,
Not play at ducks and drakes on waves of whim,
‘Then for a ------, so lofty and so sweet,
Let not œconomy cry ‘Fie upon her!’
But may she give a pillow-case and sheet
To each poor slavish shiv'ring maid of honour!
Let not œconomy cry ‘Fie upon her!’
But may she give a pillow-case and sheet
To each poor slavish shiv'ring maid of honour!
‘Perdition seize the miser who denies
A pittance to the helpless pining poor;
Who, millions owning, still with watchful eyes,
Hawks at fresh bags of gold, and screams for more.
A pittance to the helpless pining poor;
Who, millions owning, still with watchful eyes,
Hawks at fresh bags of gold, and screams for more.
‘May yon Society ne'er want a head.
Just like a paper kite that wants a tail;
Now dipping, rising, wild at random led,
Up, down, here, there, the sport of ev'ry gale.
Just like a paper kite that wants a tail;
Now dipping, rising, wild at random led,
Up, down, here, there, the sport of ev'ry gale.
‘May curates eat, and rear their infant brood;
Nay put a little fat about their bones;
Cast from their wounded jaws the curb of blood,
And dash their lawn-sleev'd riders on the stones!
Nay put a little fat about their bones;
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And dash their lawn-sleev'd riders on the stones!
‘And may those lawn-men, born to happier fate,
Chase not the curate from their grand abode;
But gravely think of heav'n as well as prate,
And give a leg of mutton to their God!’
Chase not the curate from their grand abode;
But gravely think of heav'n as well as prate,
And give a leg of mutton to their God!’
How base to preach of God's exhaustless store;
Of treasures that to mortals will be given;
Yet sooner trust (as though they thought it poor)
The bank of England than the bank of heav'n!
Of treasures that to mortals will be given;
Yet sooner trust (as though they thought it poor)
The bank of England than the bank of heav'n!
How vile to preach of Heav'n's large int'rest, too,
Seeming to place dependence on its word;
Yet on sky-credit look so very blue,
As though 'twere dang'rous lending to the Lord
Seeming to place dependence on its word;
Yet on sky-credit look so very blue,
As though 'twere dang'rous lending to the Lord
Such is my song and fervent pray'r, and now
To Pitt, Dundas, and Jenkinson, I bow,
That spotless Trinity of courtly pow'r!
A democratic raven, turn'd court throstle!
A persecuting Paul, a meek apostle!
The foulest weed, the valley's fairest flow'r!
To Pitt, Dundas, and Jenkinson, I bow,
That spotless Trinity of courtly pow'r!
A democratic raven, turn'd court throstle!
A persecuting Paul, a meek apostle!
The foulest weed, the valley's fairest flow'r!
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |