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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ELEGY TO LORD H. PETTY. |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
316
ELEGY TO LORD H. PETTY.
The Poet addresseth Lord H. Petty on those important Objects called Meat and Drink; disclaims the Vanities of Ambition, his highest being to sing in a snug Corner and eat.
O Petty! of whose talents, virtues—Fame
Is with a trumpet pleas'd to talk a deal;
O listen if thou lov'st a poet's name,
To what concerns a poet much—a meal.
Is with a trumpet pleas'd to talk a deal;
O listen if thou lov'st a poet's name,
To what concerns a poet much—a meal.
To me has Nature bountifully giv'n
A handsome stomach and discerning palate:
Forgetting to complete my earthly heav'n,
To put a little something in my wallet.
A handsome stomach and discerning palate:
Forgetting to complete my earthly heav'n,
To put a little something in my wallet.
I wish not to be minister—not I;
I put not up my prayers for Petty's place;
Nor Fox, nor Sheridan produce a sigh;
To Ireland goes unenvied Bedford's Grace.
I put not up my prayers for Petty's place;
Nor Fox, nor Sheridan produce a sigh;
To Ireland goes unenvied Bedford's Grace.
Too often Fortune, on her cloud-capp'd tow'r,
Shall place a gentleman, and then, uncivil,
Shall bid the thunder roar, and torrents pour,
And wash and blow his honours to the D*v*l.
Shall place a gentleman, and then, uncivil,
Shall bid the thunder roar, and torrents pour,
And wash and blow his honours to the D*v*l.
Survey gude Melville and his gude friend Trotter,
Who drove the world before them in high glee!
Amphibious Melville! yes, a kind of otter,
That liv'd on flesh and fish by land and sea.
Who drove the world before them in high glee!
Amphibious Melville! yes, a kind of otter,
That liv'd on flesh and fish by land and sea.
Be somewhat mine, but far from bustling men,
In stillness be the gentle poet blest!
In secret solitude a humble wren,
To hop and peck, and twitter near my nest.
In stillness be the gentle poet blest!
In secret solitude a humble wren,
To hop and peck, and twitter near my nest.
317
Form'd with œconomy, in Wisdom's school,
What government may give I will not squander;
And imitate the Prodigal, the fool,
Eat grains in hog-sties, and a vagrant wander.
What government may give I will not squander;
And imitate the Prodigal, the fool,
Eat grains in hog-sties, and a vagrant wander.
The gay Hilario liv'd in style—in state;
A palace for his mansion—din'd with dukes;
Enjoy'd his carpets, sofas, pictures, plate,
Dogs, horses, music, mistresses, and cooks.
A palace for his mansion—din'd with dukes;
Enjoy'd his carpets, sofas, pictures, plate,
Dogs, horses, music, mistresses, and cooks.
Pale Envy mark'd with wishful eye the scene—
How long? ah! soon did Fortune turn her back,
Revok'd her smiles, and show'd an alter'd mien,
Refusing farthings where she gave a lack.
How long? ah! soon did Fortune turn her back,
Revok'd her smiles, and show'd an alter'd mien,
Refusing farthings where she gave a lack.
Behold him meagre, wan, in mean attire,
Doom'd ever, in a prison's cell, to pine;
Now cooking, at a little hungry fire,
A pound of tainted mutton on a twine!
Doom'd ever, in a prison's cell, to pine;
Now cooking, at a little hungry fire,
A pound of tainted mutton on a twine!
Much should I like to see a joint of meat,
Instead of one poor solitary chop;
Afford my friends, at times, a little treat,
The fiddler call, and give their heels a hop.
Instead of one poor solitary chop;
Afford my friends, at times, a little treat,
The fiddler call, and give their heels a hop.
My mansion too, I would enlarge, I own,
Increase my tables, knives and forks, and pottery;
Now this, my lord, could easily be done,
Would Fortune ask me to attend the lottery.
Increase my tables, knives and forks, and pottery;
Now this, my lord, could easily be done,
Would Fortune ask me to attend the lottery.
One word from Petty makes the goddess kind,
Which thus a pretty little place secures:
My lord, though to my merits always blind,
Her eyes were open'd to discover yours.
Which thus a pretty little place secures:
My lord, though to my merits always blind,
Her eyes were open'd to discover yours.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |