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 THE BAT. |
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![]() | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ![]() |
366
ELEGY TO THE BAT.
The Poet addresses the Bat with much Acrimony; discovers a strong Similarity of Feature in Bat's Face and the Faces of Rivingtons' Critics—he, however, acquits Bat, but condemns their pampered literary Mohawks.
Day's golden orb has sunk beneath the skies,
And silence steals upon the world of shade:
The little playful humming host of flies,
With gambols wild, the fields of air invade.
And silence steals upon the world of shade:
The little playful humming host of flies,
With gambols wild, the fields of air invade.
Vile Imp of darkness! from thy dirty hole,
I see thee start in wickedness away,
Fierce as a mighty lord of the control,
With harmless insects making horrid fray.
I see thee start in wickedness away,
Fierce as a mighty lord of the control,
With harmless insects making horrid fray.
In thine I mark the phiz of Parson Nares,
The cynic features of ill-nature fill it,
Who, when young Genius his light wing prepares,
Leaps from the shop of Rivington to kill it.
The cynic features of ill-nature fill it,
Who, when young Genius his light wing prepares,
Leaps from the shop of Rivington to kill it.
In thine too I behold the phiz of Beloe,
Poor rhiming priest, and eke the phiz of Rennell,
Sad wights, and eke that limping cobbling fellow,
Lab'rers in Defamation's filthy kennel.
Poor rhiming priest, and eke the phiz of Rennell,
Sad wights, and eke that limping cobbling fellow,
Lab'rers in Defamation's filthy kennel.
For where is one of Rivingtons' Reviews,
Like eastern winds, that doth not cast a blight;
That does not try to murder ev'ry muse,
And cloud her merits with oblivious night?
Like eastern winds, that doth not cast a blight;
That does not try to murder ev'ry muse,
And cloud her merits with oblivious night?
367
Yet, little imp of horror, I forgive
Thy depredation on the insect host:
Thou crackest all their tiny bones to live,
And bats must eat, though lives of flies be lost.
Thy depredation on the insect host:
Thou crackest all their tiny bones to live,
And bats must eat, though lives of flies be lost.
But, lo! the cobbler and the pamper'd priest,
For luxury their scrawling pens employ;
Abuse supplies them with a monthly feast;
The palate prompts their poison to destroy.
For luxury their scrawling pens employ;
Abuse supplies them with a monthly feast;
The palate prompts their poison to destroy.
In vain for praise is Candour heard to pray;
Beg on fair Merit smiles of commendation:
Tush! havoc is the order of the day;
Critics, like demons, thrive upon damnation.
Beg on fair Merit smiles of commendation:
Tush! havoc is the order of the day;
Critics, like demons, thrive upon damnation.
![]() | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ![]() |