University of Virginia Library

A Dedicatory Ode To a Would-be Great Man

Jonathan sheweth his profound skill in heraldry—maketh an essay upon the subject of titles, and proposeth a most apt one for a certain distinguished personage.

Ætavis Edite!
Hor.

O Thou! whatever be thy title loved,
King of the Romans, Caesar, Czarowitz,
Dauphin, or Prince of Wales, if more approved,
Infant, or Daddy-Vice, as best befits,
Deign from my hands t'accept this savory sprig
To greet thy nostrils, or adorn thy wig.
Say, who can rival thine illustrious line,
Great son of unborn Adam's first-born son,
By right of primogeniture divine
Heir to those titles thy great grandshire won:
Heir to this whole terraqueous globe, no doubt,
As any herald's office can make out.
But since thine humble nature condescends
To wave thy title to the world at large,
Were mine the envied task, the grateful charge,
Thou should'st be greater in my verse sublime
Than e'er was Gog, or Magog yet in rhyme.

83

Caesars of old, were by adoption named,
As kings of Romas are by fiction, now;
Hence each securely the succession claimed;
From portents sure, I ween, so wilt not thou;
As gibbet-climbing worthies to the top
Do never rise, but just beneath it drop.
If Dauphin I should hail thee, some would say
I meant to threaten with the guillotine;
If Prince of Wales;—it might a thought betray
Thy dad a madman was, thy dam a queen;
If Czarowitz I style thee;—they would swear,
I meant thy father was a Russian bear.
Infants, in Spain, or Lisbon, may be born
With bears, and bellies round, for ought I know;
With wigs their nappers too they may adorn,
Big as a bushel, and as white as snow:
There, Doctor Slop might for an Infant pass,
So may'st thou there; but not here, by the mass.
Though Congress once, their ignorance to hide,
Forebore on splendid titles to descant,
A partisan who combats on thy side,
A title fitting would not let thee want.
Old George, he swore, might without title shine,
But, most superfluous highness, should be thine.