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] |  |
AN APOLOGY FOR INCONSTANCY.
TO PHILLIS.
‘How 'tis thou governest above,
I know not verily, O Love;
But, to my grief, this truth I know,
That Folly leads thy dance below.’
I know not verily, O Love;
But, to my grief, this truth I know,
That Folly leads thy dance below.’
342
'Twas thus I spleenful cry'd, when first my heart
From thy black sparklers felt the stinging dart:
In dismal crape I dress'd up many a ballad;
Mad at sour looks, I look'd for nought but smile,
Not dreaming once that vinegar and oil
Produc'd a fine effect upon a sallad.
From thy black sparklers felt the stinging dart:
In dismal crape I dress'd up many a ballad;
Mad at sour looks, I look'd for nought but smile,
Not dreaming once that vinegar and oil
Produc'd a fine effect upon a sallad.
My wary wisdom now is on its guard,
And ev'ry day, I, Peter, am prepar'd
To catch my little Syren out of humour:
A disappointment at a ball perchance,
Not standing up the foremost in a dance,
Which forms a feast for wide-mouth'd Madam Rumour,
May give thee fidgets, put thee out of sorts—
What slighteth lady loveth such reports?
And ev'ry day, I, Peter, am prepar'd
To catch my little Syren out of humour:
A disappointment at a ball perchance,
Not standing up the foremost in a dance,
Which forms a feast for wide-mouth'd Madam Rumour,
May give thee fidgets, put thee out of sorts—
What slighteth lady loveth such reports?
Grant that thine eyes, with sullen clouds o'ercast,
Let fall, alas! a hearty show'r of rain—
Soon will those suns (for long it cannot last)
Peep out with radiance on the world again.
When, lo! their beams will seem a great deal brighter,
My spirits also dancing ten times lighter.
Let fall, alas! a hearty show'r of rain—
Soon will those suns (for long it cannot last)
Peep out with radiance on the world again.
When, lo! their beams will seem a great deal brighter,
My spirits also dancing ten times lighter.
Life is too mawkish, if 'tis always sweet;
At times, a disappointment is a treat.
Some scout this doctrine—Psha! the vapid asses!
Lord, drown them in a hogshead of molasses.
At times, a disappointment is a treat.
Some scout this doctrine—Psha! the vapid asses!
Lord, drown them in a hogshead of molasses.
When majesty was in a monstrous passion,
And grimly Thurlow thunder'd out d*mnation,
And Leeds and Hawk'sb'ry join'd their jowls together,
Brewing, like witches of Macbeth, foul weather;
And grimly Thurlow thunder'd out d*mnation,
And Leeds and Hawk'sb'ry join'd their jowls together,
Brewing, like witches of Macbeth, foul weather;
I cannot truly say my heart was light:
Indeed the bard found something like a fright;
Indeed I trembled at gathering gloom;
But when the cloud so harmless pass'd away,
My spirits all so frolicksome and gay,
To dance their jig, had scarcely elbow-room.
Indeed the bard found something like a fright;
Indeed I trembled at gathering gloom;
But when the cloud so harmless pass'd away,
My spirits all so frolicksome and gay,
To dance their jig, had scarcely elbow-room.
343
I laugh'd at each dark terrifying mien,
And mock'd the dread that rush'd through ev'ry vein.
And mock'd the dread that rush'd through ev'ry vein.
Yet, is it possible, ye tuneful Nine
(Doubtless the thought the great Apollo shocks),
That verses vended by a bard divine,
Can put his sacred legs into the stocks?
Yes! and his sacred head into the pillory;
So say the law archives of Lent and Hillary.
(Doubtless the thought the great Apollo shocks),
That verses vended by a bard divine,
Can put his sacred legs into the stocks?
Yes! and his sacred head into the pillory;
So say the law archives of Lent and Hillary.
Some, Moderation kick, like fools, to door,
And wish their passions always in a roar.
Ah! would those madmen wisely time employ,
They ought to be œconomists of joy.
And wish their passions always in a roar.
Ah! would those madmen wisely time employ,
They ought to be œconomists of joy.
Too frequent and too violent a motion,
Will tear the best machinery to pieces;
This doctrine to young masters is a potion,
A nauseous potion too to love-sick misses.
Will tear the best machinery to pieces;
This doctrine to young masters is a potion,
A nauseous potion too to love-sick misses.
Beyond the extravagance of rhime,
Beyond the flight of thought sublime,
I chase not blisses thus beyond all measure—
Rapture's a fiery hunter to bestride;
Indeed I wish not madman-like to ride,
But calm on that sweet filly, christen'd Pleasure.
Beyond the flight of thought sublime,
I chase not blisses thus beyond all measure—
Rapture's a fiery hunter to bestride;
Indeed I wish not madman-like to ride,
But calm on that sweet filly, christen'd Pleasure.
Phillis, I will not always have thy smile;
At times, I'll give thee liberty to pout:
Such is my plan, the minutes to beguile;
Sometimes in Heav'n, my love, and sometimes out.
Variety affords a zest to life—
But, mum!—we must not say this to a wife.
At times, I'll give thee liberty to pout:
Such is my plan, the minutes to beguile;
Sometimes in Heav'n, my love, and sometimes out.
Variety affords a zest to life—
But, mum!—we must not say this to a wife.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |