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] |  |
ODE V.
Great Advice is given to Gentlemen Authors—To Mr. Webb and Mr. H. Walpole particularly—Peter taketh the Part of Lady Lucan—Showeth wonderful knowledge in the Art of Painting—Administereth Oil of Fool, vulgarly called Praise, to the Squire of Strawberry Hill.
Astronomers should treat of stars and comets,
Physicians of the bark and vomits:
Of apoplexies, those light troops of death,
That use no ceremony with our breath;
Ague and dropsy, jaundice and catarrh,
The grim-look tyrant's heavy horse of war.
Physicians of the bark and vomits:
Of apoplexies, those light troops of death,
That use no ceremony with our breath;
Ague and dropsy, jaundice and catarrh,
The grim-look tyrant's heavy horse of war.
Farriers should write on farcys and the glanders:
Bug-doctors only upon bed-disorders:
Farmers on land, pigs, cattle, geese and ganders:
Nightmen alone, on aromatic odours:
The artists should on painting solely write:
Like David, then they may ‘good things indite.’
But when the mob of gentlemen
Break on their province and take up the pen,
The Lord have mercy on the art!
I'm sure their goose-quills can no light impart.
This verse be thine, 'Squire Webb —it is thy due:
Pray, Mr. Horace Walpole, what think you?
Bug-doctors only upon bed-disorders:
Farmers on land, pigs, cattle, geese and ganders:
Nightmen alone, on aromatic odours:
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Like David, then they may ‘good things indite.’
But when the mob of gentlemen
Break on their province and take up the pen,
The Lord have mercy on the art!
I'm sure their goose-quills can no light impart.
This verse be thine, 'Squire Webb —it is thy due:
Pray, Mr. Horace Walpole, what think you?
Horace, thou art a man of taste and sense,
Then don't, of folly, be at such expense:
Do not to Lady Lucan pay such court—
Her wisdom surely will not thank thee for't—
Ah! don't endeavour thus to dupe her,
By swearing that she equals Cooper.
Then don't, of folly, be at such expense:
Do not to Lady Lucan pay such court—
Her wisdom surely will not thank thee for't—
Ah! don't endeavour thus to dupe her,
By swearing that she equals Cooper.
So gross the flattery, it seems to show
That verily thou dost not know
The pow'rs requir'd for copying a picture,
And those for copying Dame Nature:
Alas! a much more arduous matter!
So don't expose thyself, but mind my stricture.
That verily thou dost not know
The pow'rs requir'd for copying a picture,
And those for copying Dame Nature:
Alas! a much more arduous matter!
So don't expose thyself, but mind my stricture.
Thou'lt say it was mere compliment;
That nothing else was thy intent,
Although it might disgrace a boy at school:
I grant the fact, and think that no man
Says or writes sillier things to woman;
But still 'tis making each of you a fool.
That nothing else was thy intent,
Although it might disgrace a boy at school:
I grant the fact, and think that no man
Says or writes sillier things to woman;
But still 'tis making each of you a fool.
Yet, Horace, think not that I write
Through spite:
Think not I read thy works with jealous pain:
Lord! no, thou art a favourite with me:
I think thee one of us, un bel esprit—
By heav'ns! I like the windmill of thy brain:
It is a pretty and ingenious mill:
Long may it grind on Strawb'rry Hill.
Through spite:
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Lord! no, thou art a favourite with me:
I think thee one of us, un bel esprit—
By heav'ns! I like the windmill of thy brain:
It is a pretty and ingenious mill:
Long may it grind on Strawb'rry Hill.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |