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] |  |
314
ELEGY TO LORD GRENVILLE.
The Poet accuses the Delusions of Hope, who had promised him a Number of good Things; sings with much Pathos of the Treasury, and a Stranger called Money; and concludes with a handsome Compliment to Lord Grenville, hoping for the Honour of his lordship's Acquaintance.
Hope whisper'd that my market would be made,
If one day Pitt should go upon his travels;
Lo! Pitt is off, yet Fortune lags, a jade,—
This, please your lordship, the poor poet gravels.
If one day Pitt should go upon his travels;
Lo! Pitt is off, yet Fortune lags, a jade,—
This, please your lordship, the poor poet gravels.
Hope whisper'd me that Calumny's black breath
Would cease, and that the howling imp would die;
Yet, in the winds I hear the fiend of death,—
This steals a sorrow from your poet's eye.
Would cease, and that the howling imp would die;
Yet, in the winds I hear the fiend of death,—
This steals a sorrow from your poet's eye.
Hope flatter'd—but her pleasure is to cheat,
She loves to chouse the feeble-sighted mole;
Her mansion forms the idiot's last retreat,
Her glittering beams the moonshine of the soul.
She loves to chouse the feeble-sighted mole;
Her mansion forms the idiot's last retreat,
Her glittering beams the moonshine of the soul.
O Grenville! who hast felt the furious storm,
And bellowing thunders of the gloomy main;
Trac'd too with boldness, Danger's giant form,
In port, at anchor, thou art snug again.
And bellowing thunders of the gloomy main;
Trac'd too with boldness, Danger's giant form,
In port, at anchor, thou art snug again.
While now, amid thy fleet, with tow'ring pride,
Safe moor'd, secure from rocks, and winds, and fog;
Admit my little cutter along side,
And ask its master to a glass of grog.
Safe moor'd, secure from rocks, and winds, and fog;
Admit my little cutter along side,
And ask its master to a glass of grog.
315
The Treasury's golden door to many a man
Opes wide! ah! shut on me, the bright abode;
These shoes have tramp'd from Beersheba to Dan,
Nor found a small brass farthing on the road.
Opes wide! ah! shut on me, the bright abode;
These shoes have tramp'd from Beersheba to Dan,
Nor found a small brass farthing on the road.
A guinea's lovely face I never see,
Though strong my passion, wishing to be billing;
Ev'n little sixpence prudish is to me,
And coyer too her elder sister, shilling.
Though strong my passion, wishing to be billing;
Ev'n little sixpence prudish is to me,
And coyer too her elder sister, shilling.
With thee the beggar is no longer poor,
The blackest sinner whitewash'd soon and sainted,
Regeneration then within thy door;
Oh! what a pity, we are not acquainted!
The blackest sinner whitewash'd soon and sainted,
Regeneration then within thy door;
Oh! what a pity, we are not acquainted!
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |