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.
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The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||
323
ELEGY.
[Yet not alone is poetry despis'd]
The Poet sympathizes with the disgraced State of Knighthood at Windsor; and gives the Conversation that took place in St. George's Chapel at Midnight, between a Pair of noble Spectres.
Yet not alone is poetry despis'd,
The noble knighthood also feel disgraces;
At scornful Windsor, is the order priz'd?
The knights, poor fellows, blush to show their faces!
The noble knighthood also feel disgraces;
At scornful Windsor, is the order priz'd?
The knights, poor fellows, blush to show their faces!
Where is the spirit of our ancient sires?
Tares flourish, where should grow the golden wheat?
Instead of glory, grovelling gain inspires:
How rarely merit and preferment meet.
Tares flourish, where should grow the golden wheat?
Instead of glory, grovelling gain inspires:
How rarely merit and preferment meet.
Where are the noble military knights,
In Windsor's sacred stalls that ought to shine!
Men, for their country that have bled in fights,
And, glorious, cast a lustre on their line?
In Windsor's sacred stalls that ought to shine!
Men, for their country that have bled in fights,
And, glorious, cast a lustre on their line?
Alas! the men who now the honours gain,
Provoke from sober justice e'en a laugh;
Lo! by those heroes, sheep are only slain,
Geese, turkeys, rabbits, or a hog, or calf.
Provoke from sober justice e'en a laugh;
Lo! by those heroes, sheep are only slain,
Geese, turkeys, rabbits, or a hog, or calf.
There was a time when Honour was in fashion;
There was a time when Glory was ador'd;
When Merit was the idol of a nation;
When Valour edg'd the fury of the sword.
There was a time when Glory was ador'd;
When Merit was the idol of a nation;
When Valour edg'd the fury of the sword.
Knights who ne'er kill'd a foe, except a flea,
Whom garter, mantle, waving, plumes adorn;
Poor knights of Windsor with disdain survey,
Look down upon them with the squint of scorn!
Whom garter, mantle, waving, plumes adorn;
Poor knights of Windsor with disdain survey,
Look down upon them with the squint of scorn!
324
'Twas at the midnight hour, when walk the dead,
Saint George met Edward in the sacred fane;
When thus the saint bespoke the king—‘Ah! Ned,
Alas! poor Honour now is in her wane.’
Saint George met Edward in the sacred fane;
When thus the saint bespoke the king—‘Ah! Ned,
Alas! poor Honour now is in her wane.’
‘Dear George, 'tis very true,’ replied the king,
‘Poor Honour is just come upon the parish;
Merit may tramp the streets, and ballads sing:
My new-made knights can boast of nothing warrish.
‘Poor Honour is just come upon the parish;
Merit may tramp the streets, and ballads sing:
My new-made knights can boast of nothing warrish.
‘Shall Stitch, the cross-legg'd rascal, to this fane
Hop from his board and hell to be a knight;
Th' immortal glory of the order stain;
What! to the lordly lion mount a mite?
Hop from his board and hell to be a knight;
Th' immortal glory of the order stain;
What! to the lordly lion mount a mite?
‘Shall Harry Haunch, Dick Duck, and Toby Pigtail,
Be knights, because his lordship cannot pay 'em?
Sam Sledge, Bob Boots, Ben Broadcloth, and Will Wigtail,
Because his debts are such he can't defray 'em?
Be knights, because his lordship cannot pay 'em?
Sam Sledge, Bob Boots, Ben Broadcloth, and Will Wigtail,
Because his debts are such he can't defray 'em?
‘O must Tom Turbot, Tart, and Matthew Mustard,
Enjoy the lofty honours of the stall?
And on that cream-fac'd animal, Kit Custard,
The glories of an installation fall?
Enjoy the lofty honours of the stall?
And on that cream-fac'd animal, Kit Custard,
The glories of an installation fall?
‘On market days, alas! how dread the sound,
From butcher knights, a most disgraceful cry—
Beef, mutton, fourpence farthing, ma'am, a pound;
Nice pork, ma'am; veal, ma'am; pray, ma'am, what d'ye buy?’
From butcher knights, a most disgraceful cry—
Beef, mutton, fourpence farthing, ma'am, a pound;
Nice pork, ma'am; veal, ma'am; pray, ma'am, what d'ye buy?’
‘Ere long the brazen barrow drab, Bet Bundle,
Shall come and bully with her bill, my lord;
Bet ceases in a trice, her wheel to trundle,
To kneel beneath the splendors of the sword.’
Shall come and bully with her bill, my lord;
Bet ceases in a trice, her wheel to trundle,
To kneel beneath the splendors of the sword.’
Now crow'd the cock, the eye of orient day,
Peep'd on the noble ghosts, each other greeting:
‘B'ye, Ned, I'll give,’ St. George was heard to say,
‘The hist'ry of my knights at our next meeting.’
Peep'd on the noble ghosts, each other greeting:
‘B'ye, Ned, I'll give,’ St. George was heard to say,
‘The hist'ry of my knights at our next meeting.’
The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||