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] |  |
346
ELEGY.
[Who is that form, which cometh cloth'd in light!]
The Poet is addressed by the Goddess Wisdom, who reads his Fortune, very severe and very disheartening, but nevertheless administers good Counsel.
Who is that form, which cometh cloth'd in light!
With step of speechless grace and front sublime!
Whose eye can pierce Futurity's deep night,
And view the shadowy scenes of distant Time?
With step of speechless grace and front sublime!
Whose eye can pierce Futurity's deep night,
And view the shadowy scenes of distant Time?
Immortal Wisdom! hear her voice divine!
‘O Peter! I respect thy tuneful rage;
I quote thee oft, and many a golden line
Instructs, illumines, and adorns my page.
‘O Peter! I respect thy tuneful rage;
I quote thee oft, and many a golden line
Instructs, illumines, and adorns my page.
‘Know too my pupils all thy odes rehearse,
And dwell with constant rapture on thy name;
Yet will foul Slander's venom seek thy verse,
Pale Envy's fang too fasten on thy fame.
And dwell with constant rapture on thy name;
Yet will foul Slander's venom seek thy verse,
Pale Envy's fang too fasten on thy fame.
‘But, lo! the cedar on the hills that tow'rs
Must face the storm and meet the lightning's stroke;
The drone will buzz around the fairest flow'rs—
The caterpillar crawls on ev'ry oak.
Must face the storm and meet the lightning's stroke;
The drone will buzz around the fairest flow'rs—
The caterpillar crawls on ev'ry oak.
‘The royal eagle in his airy sweep,
By rooks and crows is pester'd beyond measure;
And, lo! the mighty monarch of the deep
Too often feels the sword-fish and the thresher.
By rooks and crows is pester'd beyond measure;
And, lo! the mighty monarch of the deep
Too often feels the sword-fish and the thresher.
347
‘Sweet are the melodies that leave thy lyre!
Rich in invention, fancy, fire, and spirit;
Yet know, though Taste and Genius may admire,
Nor place nor pension will reward their merit!
Rich in invention, fancy, fire, and spirit;
Yet know, though Taste and Genius may admire,
Nor place nor pension will reward their merit!
‘High on Parnassus, thou canst claim a seat;
A sure election! yet, O man of sorrow!
If mortal-like thy mind be fix'd on meat;
Go, keep a vote-shop in a Cornish borough.’
A sure election! yet, O man of sorrow!
If mortal-like thy mind be fix'd on meat;
Go, keep a vote-shop in a Cornish borough.’
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |