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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| IV. |
 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
‘Blessed are those who nought expect,
For they shall not be disappointed;’
But thou didst hope a grand effect—
Great sighings from the Lord's anointed.
For they shall not be disappointed;’
But thou didst hope a grand effect—
Great sighings from the Lord's anointed.
Strong was thy hope that majesty would send,
Of terror full, to his good friend
Of Downing Street post-haste away,
Petitioning—‘Pitt, all is over,
‘The French will quickly land at Dover,
And no one to oppose and slay:
Of strength thou art a mighty tow'r:
Come, come, and all thy thunder pour;
Without thee, England meets her fate—
Haste, haste, and save a sinking state!’
Of terror full, to his good friend
Of Downing Street post-haste away,
Petitioning—‘Pitt, all is over,
‘The French will quickly land at Dover,
And no one to oppose and slay:
Of strength thou art a mighty tow'r:
Come, come, and all thy thunder pour;
495
Haste, haste, and save a sinking state!’
Such were a very flattering sound!
How had the echoes rung around!
But no such voice, alas! was ever heard!
No thunder roll'd, no tempest blew;
But easy quite as an old shoe,
Saint James's for thy loss appear'd.
Soft as a cat's, indeed, was thy retreat,
That moves down stairs upon her velvet feet.
How had the echoes rung around!
But no such voice, alas! was ever heard!
No thunder roll'd, no tempest blew;
But easy quite as an old shoe,
Saint James's for thy loss appear'd.
Soft as a cat's, indeed, was thy retreat,
That moves down stairs upon her velvet feet.
But prithee swallow, Pitt, a question,
That mayn't agree with thy digestion:
Where was the blush, the blush of shame,
When, to exalt the blind and lame,
Thou gav'st of eloquence that dainty dish?
Yet people will in answer say,
‘'Tis the world's way—
We never hear a man cry, “Stinking fish !”’
That mayn't agree with thy digestion:
Where was the blush, the blush of shame,
When, to exalt the blind and lame,
Thou gav'st of eloquence that dainty dish?
Yet people will in answer say,
‘'Tis the world's way—
We never hear a man cry, “Stinking fish !”’
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |