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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| XV. | ODE XV. |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
80
ODE XV.
The conceited Peter turneth an arrant Egotist— Mentioneth a number of fine Folks—This Minute condemneth Will Whitehead's Verses; and the next, exculpateth the Laureat, by clapping the right saddle on the right horse.
No giant more rejoiceth in his course,
Not Count O'Kelly in a winning horse;
Not Mistress Hobart to preserve a box,
Not George the Third to triumph o'er Charles Fox;
Not Spain's wise monarch to bombard Algiers—
Not pillories, obeying law's stern voice,
Can more rejoice
To hold Kitt Atkinson's two ears;
Not more rejoiceth patriotic Pitt,
By patriotic grocers to be fed;
Not Mother Windsor in a nice young tit,
Nor gaping deans, to hear a bishop's dead:
Not more reform'd John Wilkes, to court the crown;
Nor Skinner in his aldermanic gown,
Nor common-councilmen on turtle feeding:
Not Count O'Kelly in a winning horse;
Not Mistress Hobart to preserve a box,
Not George the Third to triumph o'er Charles Fox;
Not Spain's wise monarch to bombard Algiers—
Not pillories, obeying law's stern voice,
Can more rejoice
To hold Kitt Atkinson's two ears;
Not more rejoiceth patriotic Pitt,
By patriotic grocers to be fed;
Not Mother Windsor in a nice young tit,
Nor gaping deans, to hear a bishop's dead:
Not more reform'd John Wilkes, to court the crown;
Nor Skinner in his aldermanic gown,
Nor common-councilmen on turtle feeding:
Not more rejoice old envious maids, so stale,
To hear of weeping beauty a sad tale,
And tell the world a reigning toast is breeding:—
Than I, the poet, in a lucky ode,
That catches at a hop the cynic face;
Kills by a laugh its grave Bubonic face;
And tears, in spite of him, his jaws abroad.
To hear of weeping beauty a sad tale,
And tell the world a reigning toast is breeding:—
Than I, the poet, in a lucky ode,
That catches at a hop the cynic face;
Kills by a laugh its grave Bubonic face;
And tears, in spite of him, his jaws abroad.
81
And are there such grave dons that read my rhimes?
All-gracious Heav'n forgive their crimes!
Oh! be their lot to have wise-talking wives;
And if in reading they delight,
To read, ye gods! from morn to night,
Will Whitehead's birth-day sonnets all their lives.
All-gracious Heav'n forgive their crimes!
Oh! be their lot to have wise-talking wives;
And if in reading they delight,
To read, ye gods! from morn to night,
Will Whitehead's birth-day sonnets all their lives.
Perhaps, reader, thou'rt a tinker, or a tanner;
And mendest kettles in a pretty manner;
Or tannest hides of bulls, and cows, and calves:
But if the saucepan, or the kettle,
Originally be bad metal,
Thou'lt say, ‘It only can be done by halves;’
Or if by nature bad the bullock's skins,
‘They'll make vile shoes and boots for people's shins.’
And mendest kettles in a pretty manner;
Or tannest hides of bulls, and cows, and calves:
But if the saucepan, or the kettle,
Originally be bad metal,
Thou'lt say, ‘It only can be done by halves;’
Or if by nature bad the bullock's skins,
‘They'll make vile shoes and boots for people's shins.’
Then wherefore do I thus abuse
Will Whitehead's hard-driv'n Muse?
Who merits rather Pity's tend'rest sigh;
For what the devil can he do,
When forc'd to praise—the Lord knows who!
Verse must be dull on subjects so damn'd dry.
Will Whitehead's hard-driv'n Muse?
Who merits rather Pity's tend'rest sigh;
For what the devil can he do,
When forc'd to praise—the Lord knows who!
Verse must be dull on subjects so damn'd dry.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |