The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] :: :: University of Virginia Library

As want of candour really is not right,
I own my satire too inclin'd to bite:
On kings behold it breakfast, dine, and sup—
Now shall she praise, and try to make it up.

Why will the simple world expect wise things
From lofty folk, particularly kings?
Look on their poverty of education!
Ador'd and flatter'd, taught that they are gods;
And by their awful frowns and nods,
Jove-like, to shake the pillars of creation!

They scorn that little useful imp call'd mind,
Who fits them for the circle of mankind!
Pride their companion, and the world their hate;
Immur'd, they doze in ignorance and state.

Sometimes, indeed, great kings will condescend
A little with their subjects to unbend!
An instance take:—A king of this great land
In days of yore, we understand,
Did visit Sal'sbury's old church so fair:
An Earl of Pembroke was the monarch's guide;
Incog. they travell'd, shuffling side by side;
And into the Cathedral stole the pair.

The verger met them in his blue silk gown,
And humbly bow'd his neck with rev'rence down,

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Low as an ass to lick a lock of hay:
Looking the frighten'd verger through and through,
All with his eye-glass—‘Well, sir, who are you?
What, what, sir:—hey, sir?’ deign'd the king to say.

‘I am the verger here, most mighty king :
In this cathedral I do ev'ry thing;
Sweep it, an't please ye, sir, and keep it clean.’
‘Hey? verger! verger! you the verger? hey?’
‘Yes, please your glorious majesty, I be,’
The verger answer'd, with the mildest mien.

Then turn'd the king about towards the peer,
And wink'd, and laugh'd; then whisper'd in his ear,
‘Hey, hey—what, what—fine fellow, 'pon my word:
I'll knight him, knight him, knight him—hey, my lord?’
Then with his glass, as hard as eye could strain,
He kenn'd the trembling verger o'er again.

‘He's a poor verger, sire,’ his lordship cry'd:
‘Sixpence would handsomely requite him.’
‘Poor verger, verger, hey?’ the king reply'd:
‘No, no, then, we won't knight him—no, won't knight him.’

Now to the lofty roof the king did raise
His glass, and skipp'd it o'er with sounds of praise;
For thus his marv'ling majesty did speak:
‘Fine roof this, master verger, quite complete;
High—high and lofty too, and clean and neat:
What, verger, what? mop, mop it once a week!’

‘An't please your majesty,’ with marv'ling chops;
The verger answer'd, ‘we have got no mops
In Sal'sb'ry that will reach so high.’
‘Not mop, no, no, not mop it,’ quoth the king—
‘No, sir, our Sal'sb'ry mops do no such thing;
They might as well pretend to scrub the sky.’

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MORAL.

This little anecdote doth plainly show
That ignorance, a king too often lurches;
For, hid from art, Lord! how should monarchs know
The nat'ral history of mops and churches?

The reader will be pleased to observe, that the verger, of all the sons of the church, was the only one entrusted with the royal intention!!!

STORY THE SECOND.

From Sal'sb'ry church to Wilton House so grand,
Return'd the mighty ruler of the land—
‘My lord, you've got fine statues,’ said the king.
‘A few! beneath your royal notice, sir,’
Replied Lord Pembroke—‘Stir, my lord, stir, stir;
Let's see them all, all, all, all, ev'ry thing.

‘Who's this? who's this?—who's this fine fellow here?’
‘Sesostris,’ bowing low, replied the peer.
‘Sir Sostris, hey?—Sir Sostris?—'pon my word!
Knight or a baronet, my lord?
One of my making?—what, my lord, my making?’
This, with a vengeance, was mistaking!

‘Se-sostris, sire,’ so soft, the peer reply'd—
‘A famous king of Egypt, sir, of old.’
‘Poh, poh!’ th' instructed monarch snappish cry'd,
‘I need not that—I need not that be told.’

‘Pray, pray, my lord, who's that big fellow there?’
‘'Tis Hercules,’ replies the shrinking peer.

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‘Strong fellow, hey, my lord? strong fellow, hey?
Clean'd stables!—crack'd a lion like a flea;
Kill'd snakes, great snakes, that in a cradle found him—
The queen, queen's coming! wrap an apron round him.’

Our moral is not merely water-gruel—
It shows that curiosity's a jewel!
It shows with kings that ignorance may dwell:
It shows that subjects must not give opinions
To people reigning over wide dominions,
As information to great folk, is hell:

It shows that decency may live with kings,
On whom the bold virtú-men turn their backs;
And shows (for num'rous are the naked things)
That saucy statues should be lodg'd in sacks.