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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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463

ODE TO THE BLUE STOCKING-CLUB.

ARGUMENT.

Peter addresseth the old literary Ladies with much poetical Solemnity—beggeth their Pardon for taking Liberties with Miss Hannah More, one of the Columns of the Blue-Stocking-Club —he hinteth to them that Miss Hannah's last Book is not Miss Hannah's.—Peter illustrateth Miss Hannah's Manœuvres by a sublime Comparison of an old Mouser and her Daughter. —Peter indulgeth himself in another apt Comparison of a Fish-theft, thinking Miss Hannah may, in a sly Way, have borrowed her last publication; and adviseth the Restoration to the Proprietor.

Old critics—Gammer Wisdoms—sapient dames,
Who fond of being deem'd illustrious names,
Proudly o'er Mount Parnassus cast your shoes;
In grave Divan, who most sublimely sit,
Pronouncing judgment upon works of Wit,
Indeed on all the labours of the mouse!

464

Accept a little ode from Peter,
Who charms you seldom with his metre.
Wise dames, I know your motley club
Has met with many a wanton drub
From that sly Proteus clepp'd Ridicule:
Whose talent is to sneer and laugh,
To call important matters raff,
And lower Wisdom sometimes to a fool.
Now, ladies, don't be in a passion,
Because I've treated in such fashion
Miss Hannah, whom you idolize and foster:
I do assure you, solemn dames,
Miss Hannah with no merit flames,
No! she's a little bit of an impostor.
I know you call the nymph, the sun so bright:
Now, she's Miss Moon—and borroweth all her light.
Who has not seen a kind old Mother Cat
Deliver a dead bird, or mouse, or rat,
To her young kitten, Miss Grimalkin?
Miss catches it with raptur'd claws,
Locks it at once within her jaws,
Round with cock'd tail, and round triumphant walking;
So carefully her treasure holding, watching,
And proudly purring, ‘This is all my catching.’
Has not Miss Hannah been the kitten here?
Too strongly she resembles it, I fear!
Believe me, your Miss Hannah More,
As I have somewhere said before,
Starts like the country lasses for the shift;
And just like Sylvia left behind,
By rivals, much against her mind,
Who stole before them by a lucky lift.

465

Miss Hannah, too, a a lucky lift has had
On some kind priest's—perchance a bishop's pad!
Miss Hannah's work, so much beprais'd,
By flattery's puff so highly rais'd;
I say Miss Hannah's pretty Education-book,
Of fishing parties starts a story,
Where one shall steal another's trout or dory,
And slily pull it in on his own hook.
Now, ladies, as your honours are at stake,
I beg you, for your reputation's sake,
To sift this pretty larceny of the pen!
And as ye probably may find it out,
Confront Miss Hannah—kick up some small rout—
And make her give the man his fish again.