Scripscrapologia or, Collins's Doggerel Dish Of All Sorts. Consisting of Songs Adapted to familiar Tunes, And which may be sung without the Chaunterpipe of an Italian Warbler, or the ravishing Accompaniments of Tweedle-Dum or Tweedle-Dee. Particularly those which have been most applauded in the author's once popular performance, call'd, The Brush. The Gallimaufry garnished with a variety of comic tales, quaint epigrams, whimsical epitaphs, &c. &c. [by John Collins] |
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DATE OBOLUM BELISARIO. |
 | Scripscrapologia |  |
DATE OBOLUM BELISARIO.
O! fortune, how strangely thy gifts are awarded!
How much to thy shame thy caprice is recorded!
As the Wise, Brave, and Good of thy frowns seldom 'scape any,
Witness brave Belisarius, who beg'd for a halfpenny!
How much to thy shame thy caprice is recorded!
As the Wise, Brave, and Good of thy frowns seldom 'scape any,
Witness brave Belisarius, who beg'd for a halfpenny!
“Date Obolum, Date Obolum,
“Date Obolum Belisario.”
“Date Obolum Belisario.”
57
He whose fame from his valour and vict'ries arose,—Sir,
Of his country the shield and the scourge of her foes,—Sir,
By his poor faithful dog, blind and aged was led,—Sir,
With one foot in the grave, thus to beg for his bread,—Sir!
Of his country the shield and the scourge of her foes,—Sir,
By his poor faithful dog, blind and aged was led,—Sir,
With one foot in the grave, thus to beg for his bread,—Sir!
“Date Obolum,”—&c.
When a young Roman Knight in the street passing by, Sir,
The vet'ran survey'd with a heart-rending sigh, Sir,
And a purse in his helmet he drop'd, with a tear, Sir,
While the soldier's sad tale thus attracted his ear, Sir;
The vet'ran survey'd with a heart-rending sigh, Sir,
And a purse in his helmet he drop'd, with a tear, Sir,
While the soldier's sad tale thus attracted his ear, Sir;
“Date Obolum,”—&c.
“I have fought, I have bled, I have conquer'd for Rome, Sir,
“I have crown'd her with laurels, for ages to bloom, Sir,
“I've augmented her wealth, swell'd her pride and her power, Sir:
“I, espous'd her for life, and disgrace is my dower, Sir!
“I have crown'd her with laurels, for ages to bloom, Sir,
“I've augmented her wealth, swell'd her pride and her power, Sir:
“I, espous'd her for life, and disgrace is my dower, Sir!
“Date Obolum,”—&c.
“Yet blood never wantonly wasted at random,
“Losing thousands their lives with a “Nil desperandum!”
“But each conquest I gain'd, I made both friend and foe know,
“That my soul's only aim was “Pro publico bono.”
“Losing thousands their lives with a “Nil desperandum!”
“But each conquest I gain'd, I made both friend and foe know,
“That my soul's only aim was “Pro publico bono.”
“Date Obolum,”—&c.
“Nor yet for my friends, for my kindred or self, Sir,
“Has my glory been stain'd with the base views of pelf, Sir,
“But for all, near or dear, I've so far been from carving,
“Old and blind, I've no choice but of begging or starving!
“Has my glory been stain'd with the base views of pelf, Sir,
“But for all, near or dear, I've so far been from carving,
“Old and blind, I've no choice but of begging or starving!
“Date Obolum,”—&c.
58
“Let the brave then when hurl'd from their bright elevation,
“Learn and smile, though reduc'd to a slave's degradation,
“And of eye-sight bereft, they, like me, grope their way, Sir,
“The bright sun-beams of virtue will turn night to day, Sir,
“Learn and smile, though reduc'd to a slave's degradation,
“And of eye-sight bereft, they, like me, grope their way, Sir,
“The bright sun-beams of virtue will turn night to day, Sir,
“Date Obolum,”—&c.
“For though to distress and to darkness inur'd,—Sir,
“In this vile crust of clay when no longer immur'd,—Sir,
“From the lorn vale of tears they triumphant shall rise, Sir,
“And see all earthly glory eclips'd in the skies,—Sir.
“In this vile crust of clay when no longer immur'd,—Sir,
“From the lorn vale of tears they triumphant shall rise, Sir,
“And see all earthly glory eclips'd in the skies,—Sir.
“Date Obolum, Date Obolum,
“Date Obolum Belisario.”
“Date Obolum Belisario.”
We are free to confess, that the word, “SIR,” has an awkward appearance at the end of so many lines, in this Song: but the plain truth is, that the TUNE requires it; and as we cannot fill up its MEASURE without it, we must acknowledge, that like Master Stephen's appeal to St. Peter, it is introduced merely “TO MAKE UP THE METRE.”
| Scripscrapologia | |