The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] :: :: University of Virginia Library

Whate'er your wish in landscape to excel,
London's the very place to mar it.
Believe the oracles I tell,
There's very little landscape in a garret,
Whate'er the flocks of fleas you keep,
'Tis badly copying them for goats and sheep;
And if you'll take the poet's honest word,
A bug must make a miserable bird.

A rush-light winking in a bottle's neck,
Ill represents the glorious orb of morn;
Nay, though it were a candle with a wick,
‘Twould be a representative forlorn.

I think, too, that a man would be a fool,
For trees, to copy legs of a joint-stool;

Or ev'n by them to represent a stump:
As also broomsticks—which, though well he rig
Each with an old fox-coloured wig,
Must make a very poor autumnal clump.

You'll say, ‘Yet such ones, oft a person sees
In many an artist's trees;
And in some paintings, we have all beheld,
Green baise hath surely sat for a green field;
Bolsters for mountains, hills, and wheaten mows;
Cats, for ram-goats; and curs, for bulls and cows.’

All this, my lads, I freely grant;
But better things from you, I want.
As Shakespeare says (a Bard I much approve)
‘List, list, oh! list,’ if thou dost painting love.

Claude painted in the open air!
Therefore to Wales at once repair;
Where scenes of true magnificence you'll find:
Besides this great advantage—if in debt,
You'll have with creditors no tête-à-tête.
So leave the bull-dog bailiffs all behind;
Who, hunt you with what noise they may,
Must hunt for needles in a stack of hay.