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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| II. | ELEGY II. |
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 | The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] |  |
ELEGY II.
A most pathetic Question.—The Poet's heavy Complaint.—Mr. Weltjie passeth high Panegyric on the Bard—knoweth his Poetry by heart—inviteth the Bard to Dinner—a broad hint to certain Princes.—Mr. Weltjie wisheth the Bard to be his Biographer, proudly insinuating that his Life would be a more interesting morceau to the Public than the exalted Life of Colonel Hanger—intimateth a Desire of the Prince to peruse the Poet's delectable Effusions.—Great Character given by Mr. Weltjie of his Royal Master.—The Poet again, in the sublime Strain of the Royal Psalmist, voweth Acts of Gratitude to the Memory of his old departed Friend Weltjie.
Yes, in his solitude the Poet mourns,
Gold fills the House of Carlton, what a heap!
But not to him the Age of Gold returns.
Nor seen indeed the shadow of a card:
Thus are my sanguine hopes all wreck'd, and drown'd;
Such for my loyalty the rare reward!
(Scarce crediting my two astonish'd ears,)
Yarmouth and Bloomfield sent at least a score,
Inviting dead folks ; dead, ah! dead for years.
Hath said, and given my heart sweet palpitation:
“Docter, I tell you vhat: by Gote, I swear
You be de bestest Poet in de nation.
I laughs to zee you vling about your squibs:
An den de Apple Dumplins an de King;
Mine Gote, I laughs until I breaks my ribs.
Docter, I can remember dem by rote:
And Docter, minds, I neffer tells you vrong;
De Deffil take me, all be true by Gote.”
(I knows you love good eating) pon a buck:
An den I gif you dam goot glass of vine;
I gif you too one roast anchovy duck.
Bester dan oder peeple pork by half:
I knows dat you will play goot knive an vork;
An mind, I zuckles de yong pigs myzelf.
I gif you for to eat zome nice umbrellas;
Dere's in my gardin zome dat's defflish goot:”—
Kind Weltjie simply meaning, his morellas
Fond of the Poet, and the Poet's name;
Such was the generous German's invitation.—
Blush, Princes, that ye have not done the same.
An vrite me zometing comikal in rhyme?
But dont zay not a vord about my Vife.
Mine beat George Hanger Life ten touzand time.
He vish to have dem in de mornin early:
He tink you too great Poet of de day;
He love your funning, now I tell shinsherely.
I knows de Prince do zometing goot intend:
Den zend His Royal Highness rhyme by me;
De Prince he neffer do forget old vriend.”
No matter where thy birth, or who begat thee;
Pleas'd with thy broken English, and quaint story,
With thee I oft have laugh'd, and sometimes at thee.
In Pall Mall, Hammersmith, and Turnham Green,
My soul has felt thy fascinating pow'r,
That from the gloomiest heart could chase the spleen.
For thee, the Muse shall draw the teeth of Time;
Such are the powers of Rhyme, immortal Rhyme.
So great thy talents, what a burning shame
The Red Book, the Court Calendar alone,
Should give posterity a simple name!
Of Baronets and Knights the constant crony:
Thou by thy converse oft didst charm their ears;
And, what delighted more, didst lend them money.
Thy tales of palaces, thy wit, thy punning;
May Fame proclaim me an ungrateful sinner,
And this my fiddle-hand forget her cunning.
Because I've not fulfill'd my just devoirs;
Believe me, I will satisfy thy tomb,
And give the gossip Public thy Memoirs.
This was literally done by those two Ministers appointed to the card department; who seem on this occasion to have acted in diametrical opposition to the old adage, which says, “A living Dog is better than a dead Lion.” One would imagine that the noble Lord, and the brave and experienced Colonel, were put sadly to their trumps for want of a complete company, by being forced to beat up for volunteers among the tombs.
| The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | |