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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| HYMN TO THE GUILLOTINE. |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
183
HYMN TO THE GUILLOTINE.
Daughter of Liberty, whose knife
So busy chops the threads of life,
And frees from cumb'rous clay the spirit;
Ah! why alone shall Gallia feel
The beauties of thy pond'rous steel?
Why must not Britain mark thy merit?
So busy chops the threads of life,
And frees from cumb'rous clay the spirit;
Ah! why alone shall Gallia feel
The beauties of thy pond'rous steel?
Why must not Britain mark thy merit?
Hark! 'tis the dungeon's groan I hear;
And lo, a squalid band appear,
With sallow cheek and hollow eye!
Unwilling, lo, the neck they bend;
Yet, through thy pow'r, their terrors end,
And with their heads the sorrows fly!
And lo, a squalid band appear,
With sallow cheek and hollow eye!
Unwilling, lo, the neck they bend;
Yet, through thy pow'r, their terrors end,
And with their heads the sorrows fly!
O let us view thy lofty grace;—
To Britons show thy blushing face,
And bless rebellion's life-tir'd train!—
Joy to my soul! she's on her way,
Led by her dearest friends, Dismay,
Death, and the Devil, and Tom Paine!
To Britons show thy blushing face,
And bless rebellion's life-tir'd train!—
Joy to my soul! she's on her way,
Led by her dearest friends, Dismay,
Death, and the Devil, and Tom Paine!
Be deaf, O man, to the insinuations of pride. It is the poisonous weed of the heart, that suffers not a flower of beauty or fragrance to bloom near it.
Boast not of the antiquity of thy line: for, to thy mortification, be it known, that the family of the hogs was created before thee.
What can the wisest boast? alas, how little!
Then, Pride, be sparing of thy saucy spittle;
Nay, do not squirt it in the humblest face:
The wheel of Fortune is for ever turning;
Joy's birthday-suit may soon be chang'd to mourning!
Nimrods become the victims of the chace.
Then, Pride, be sparing of thy saucy spittle;
184
The wheel of Fortune is for ever turning;
Joy's birthday-suit may soon be chang'd to mourning!
Nimrods become the victims of the chace.
Yes, Pride, I hate thee—canker of our nature!
Why look contemptuous on a fellow-creature,
Because it is a monkey or a pig?
They too have qualities, or I'm mistaken:
What man excels a hog in making bacon?
What mortals, like a monkey, dance a jig?
Why look contemptuous on a fellow-creature,
Because it is a monkey or a pig?
They too have qualities, or I'm mistaken:
What man excels a hog in making bacon?
What mortals, like a monkey, dance a jig?
What man, from bough to bough, like Jacko springs,
Ingenious rogue! who twists his tail, and swings?
Dare we despise, because they cannot preach,
Forsooth, ungifted with the pow'rs of speech?
That were a joke indeed to make a song:
Ah me! what numbers of the human race
Most fortunately had escap'd disgrace,
Had Heav'n forgot to give their mouths a tongue!
Ingenious rogue! who twists his tail, and swings?
Dare we despise, because they cannot preach,
Forsooth, ungifted with the pow'rs of speech?
That were a joke indeed to make a song:
Ah me! what numbers of the human race
Most fortunately had escap'd disgrace,
Had Heav'n forgot to give their mouths a tongue!
In vain I preach—Pride laughs at all I say;
Resolv'd, the fool, to keep her distant way.
Resolv'd, the fool, to keep her distant way.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |