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] |  |
114
ODE X.
Peter speaketh figuratively—Accommodateth himself to vulgar Readers—Lasheth Pretenders to Fame—Concludeth merrily.
A modest love of praise I do not blame—
But I abhor a rape on mistress Fame—
Although the lady is exceeding chaste,
Young forward bullies seize her round the waist,
But I abhor a rape on mistress Fame—
Although the lady is exceeding chaste,
Young forward bullies seize her round the waist,
Swear, nolens volens, that she shall be kiss'd;
And, though she vows she does not like 'em,
Nay threatens for their impudence to strike 'em,
The saucy varlets still persist.
And, though she vows she does not like 'em,
Nay threatens for their impudence to strike 'em,
The saucy varlets still persist.
Reader!—of images here's no confusion—
Thou therefore understand'st the bard's allusion;
But possibly thou hast a thickish head:
And therefore no vast quantities of brain—
Why then, my precious pig of lead,
'Tis necessary to explain.
Thou therefore understand'st the bard's allusion;
But possibly thou hast a thickish head:
And therefore no vast quantities of brain—
Why then, my precious pig of lead,
'Tis necessary to explain.
Some artists, if I so may call 'em,
So ignorant (the foul fiend maul 'em)
Mere driv'lers in the charming art;
Are vastly fond of being prais'd;
Wish to the stars, like Blanchard , to be rais'd:
And rais'd they should be, reader—from a cart.
So ignorant (the foul fiend maul 'em)
Mere driv'lers in the charming art;
Are vastly fond of being prais'd;
Wish to the stars, like Blanchard , to be rais'd:
And rais'd they should be, reader—from a cart.
If disappointed in some Stentor's tongue,
Upon themselves they pour forth prose or song,
Or buy it in some venal paper,
And then heroically vapour.
Upon themselves they pour forth prose or song,
Or buy it in some venal paper,
And then heroically vapour.
What prigs to immortality aspire,
Who stick their trash around the room!—
Trash meriting a very diff'rent doom—
I mean the warmer regions of the fire!
Who stick their trash around the room!—
Trash meriting a very diff'rent doom—
I mean the warmer regions of the fire!
115
Heav'n knows, that I am anger'd to the soul,
To find some blockheads of their works so vain—
So proud to see them hanging, cheek by jowl,
With his , whose pow'rs the art's high fame sustain.
To find some blockheads of their works so vain—
So proud to see them hanging, cheek by jowl,
With his , whose pow'rs the art's high fame sustain.
To wondrous merit their pretension,
On such vicinity-suspension,
Brings to my mind a not unpleasant story,
Which, gentle readers, let me lay before ye.
On such vicinity-suspension,
Brings to my mind a not unpleasant story,
Which, gentle readers, let me lay before ye.
A shabby fellow chanc'd one day to meet
The British Roscius in the street,
Garrick, on whom our nation justly brags—
The fellow hugg'd him with a kind embrace—
‘Good sir, I do not recollect your face,’
Quoth Garrick—‘No!’ replied the man of rags;
The British Roscius in the street,
Garrick, on whom our nation justly brags—
The fellow hugg'd him with a kind embrace—
‘Good sir, I do not recollect your face,’
Quoth Garrick—‘No!’ replied the man of rags;
‘The boards of Drury you and I have trod
Full many a time together, I am sure—’
‘When?’ with an oath, cried Garrick—‘for by G---
I never saw that face of yours before!—
What characters, I pray,
Did you and I together play?’
Full many a time together, I am sure—’
‘When?’ with an oath, cried Garrick—‘for by G---
I never saw that face of yours before!—
What characters, I pray,
Did you and I together play?’
‘Lord!’ quoth the fellow, ‘think not that I mock—
When you play'd Hamlet, sir,—I play'd the cock .’
When you play'd Hamlet, sir,—I play'd the cock .’
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |