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] |  |
ARGUMENT.
Peter fancieth that he hath put the Bishop in a Passion—he giveth his Opinion of a Book called Strictures upon Female Education, with Miss Hannah's name annexed—he subtracteth greatly from the Merit of Miss Hannah in those Volumes.—Peter Describeth Miss Hannah's Mode of manœuvring, by two apt and beautiful Comparisons, Hemp and Leather—he likeneth Miss Hannah unto a Hen, who hatcheth the Eggs of another Bird—he confesseth her exemplary Piety and Snow-like appearance, but severely reprimandeth her Uncharitableness towards the frail ones of her own Sex.—Peter praiseth his own celestial Disposition in favour of fallen Beauty—he addresseth the barbarous Part of the Female Creation: asserting that Love and an old Lady are not incompatible— he giveth the Judges a Stroke for their amorous Faces on Trials of Rape and Crim. Con. —Peter windeth up sublimely and charitably.
And thus exclaiming—‘What! Miss Hannah More
No genius! what is then her Education,
So prais'd and echoed o'er and o'er?’
Are decent things—perhaps Miss Hannah's plan:
But, trust me, they are all some parson's pictures:
These, Hannah never drew, nor colour'd, man!
Begs some young Levite spin it:—nothing loth,
He adds large quantities of flax, kind lad,
And with the mixture fabricates a cloth.
Horse-skin—and, slily, to some Crispin goes:
Crispin adds calf-skin—puts them both together,
And makes a tolerable pair of shoes.
Who sits on pheasant's egg, to kindness prone;
Hatches the birds, a pretty brood; but then,
Weak vanity, she call the chicks her own.
Her life a field of Alpine snow so white!
And what our good opinion must inspire,
With bishops she could talk from morn to night.
On each young victim of her tempting bloom!
Instead of sarcasm dropp'd a pitying tear,
And with a beam of comfort cheer'd her gloom!
I cannot curse the nymph of yielding charms:
Instead of casting the poor girl away,
Lord! I would rather clasp her in my arms!
Catch the pure drop that leaves her liquid eye:
And gently chiding the unlicens'd bliss,
Reclaim the beauteous mourner with a sigh.
Lo nature weaves it close in ev'ry cranny!
Ev'n from old women rarely it departs,
The subject sweet of many a shaking granny.
I've seen upon Crim. Con. with passion gape;
With wanton questions wag the watering beard,
Point the hot eye, and chuckle at a rape.
The opening buds of gentle May and June;
Blest to spread darkness, like the cloud of night,
That hangs a dirty malkin on the moon!
And furious charge the feeble maid of dame,
A nymph, who, cautious of the torch of Love,
Has never sing'd her honour at its flame.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |