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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PETER'S TRIUMPH.
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The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||
PETER'S TRIUMPH.
TO THE MUSE.
Muse, we have finish'd now our odes,
And verily the songs of gods;
But let me tell thee, muse, and much it pains,
That those great traffickers in words,
Those high and mighty pompous lords,
The booksellers, will barely give me grains!
‘Hog's wash is good enough’—they cry:
Thus can I neither roast nor fry.
And verily the songs of gods;
But let me tell thee, muse, and much it pains,
That those great traffickers in words,
Those high and mighty pompous lords,
The booksellers, will barely give me grains!
‘Hog's wash is good enough’—they cry:
Thus can I neither roast nor fry.
135
'Tis hard that my poor mental mill
Is never suffered to lie still;
Such, such indeed the avarice of the clan:
Forc'd, ev'ry minute of the hour,
To grind, forsooth, for them the flour,
And feed myself, alas! upon the bran.
Is never suffered to lie still;
Such, such indeed the avarice of the clan:
Forc'd, ev'ry minute of the hour,
To grind, forsooth, for them the flour,
And feed myself, alas! upon the bran.
Hard is their bridle—Lord! with pains I shrink;
Too hard upon my bleeding jaws they pull!
What shame that they, the lazy imps, should drink
Claret and Burgundy from my poor skull;
And, with a saucy mortifying sneer,
Bid me be happy upon dead small beer.
Too hard upon my bleeding jaws they pull!
What shame that they, the lazy imps, should drink
Claret and Burgundy from my poor skull;
And, with a saucy mortifying sneer,
Bid me be happy upon dead small beer.
I boast one consolation, I allow—
My name will never be forgotten:
When to Posterity I make my bow,
Those rogues are in oblivion rotten.
My name will never be forgotten:
When to Posterity I make my bow,
Those rogues are in oblivion rotten.
The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||