Horace in London Consisting of imitations of the first two books of the odes of Horace. By the authors of the rejected addresses, or the new theatrum poetarum [Horace and James Smith] |
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IX. |
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XVI. |
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XVIII. |
XIX. |
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XXIII. |
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XXVII. |
XXVIII. |
XXIX. |
XXX. |
XXXI. |
XXXII. |
XXXIII. |
XXXIV. |
XXXV. |
XXXVI. |
XXXVII. |
XXXVIII. |
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XIX. | ODE XIX. COBBETT.
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Horace in London | ||
168
ODE XIX. COBBETT.
Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibus.
Where halts the Richmond coach to bait,
With ears erect and mouth dilate,
(Believe it future ages)
I saw the Naiads quit the Thames,
Fishers their nets, and boys their games,
To dive in Cobbett's pages.
With ears erect and mouth dilate,
(Believe it future ages)
I saw the Naiads quit the Thames,
Fishers their nets, and boys their games,
To dive in Cobbett's pages.
Cobbett, huzza! I burn! I rave!
Laws, locks, and Lincoln gaol I brave;
Spare, Anarch lov'd yet dreaded,
The bard who hails you tumult's god,
And lauds your pen, like Hermes' rod,
Gall-tipp'd and serpent-headed.
Laws, locks, and Lincoln gaol I brave;
Spare, Anarch lov'd yet dreaded,
The bard who hails you tumult's god,
And lauds your pen, like Hermes' rod,
Gall-tipp'd and serpent-headed.
169
With yours, his own, and Horne Tooke's tongues,
The Baronet's exhaustless lungs,
The dog of hell outwarble:
While you his Gorgon vipers wield,
Back on your master turn the shield,
And change his heart to marble.
The Baronet's exhaustless lungs,
The dog of hell outwarble:
While you his Gorgon vipers wield,
Back on your master turn the shield,
And change his heart to marble.
The cat o' nine tails you abuse,
And billingsgate each classic muse;
Henceforth another cue get:
The assailant now the Nine assail,
Each muse contributing a tail,
To whip you into Newgate.
And billingsgate each classic muse;
Henceforth another cue get:
The assailant now the Nine assail,
Each muse contributing a tail,
To whip you into Newgate.
When Jacobins, in reason's trance,
Ruled, mob on mob, devoted France,
Reacting on reaction;
You baffled, tooth and nail for law,
And hid beneath the lion's paw,
The cloven foot of faction.
Ruled, mob on mob, devoted France,
Reacting on reaction;
You baffled, tooth and nail for law,
And hid beneath the lion's paw,
The cloven foot of faction.
170
Hail, Botley Bifrons! sinuous eel!
How shall the Muse your course reveal?
In what Pindarics word it?
Round like a weathercock you flit,
As interest veers, now puffing Pitt,
And now inflating Burdett.
How shall the Muse your course reveal?
In what Pindarics word it?
Round like a weathercock you flit,
As interest veers, now puffing Pitt,
And now inflating Burdett.
E'en Windham, chivalrous no more,
In your hot water dipp'd his oar,
And let your torrent turn him;
He hymn'd your worth, your virtues sung,
And lick'd, with metaphysic tongue,
The foot ordain'd to spurn him.
In your hot water dipp'd his oar,
And let your torrent turn him;
He hymn'd your worth, your virtues sung,
And lick'd, with metaphysic tongue,
The foot ordain'd to spurn him.
Horace in London | ||