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.
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The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||
327
ELEGY.
[While others sink in seas of rosy wine]
The Poet complains of the unequal Distributions of Fortune; of the Countenance given by the Great to a vile Catgut-scraper and Canvass-dauber, in Preference to the sublime Bard; and concludes with a beautiful Apostrophe to his Divinity, Independence.
While others sink in seas of rosy wine,
Where rosy Pitt resign'd his housing breath;
No drowning oceans of the grape are mine—
I can't afford to put myself to death.
Where rosy Pitt resign'd his housing breath;
No drowning oceans of the grape are mine—
I can't afford to put myself to death.
While others, stuffing, chok'd on dainty fare,
Like London aldermen undaunted die;
To Heav'n with turtle in their mouths repair—
I can't afford to choke myself—not I!
Like London aldermen undaunted die;
To Heav'n with turtle in their mouths repair—
I can't afford to choke myself—not I!
I cannot make a larder of my throat;
Nor of my stomach form a purple well;
Good claret by the sight alone, I note,
And judge of ven'son only by the smell.
Nor of my stomach form a purple well;
Good claret by the sight alone, I note,
And judge of ven'son only by the smell.
Now on a bench I ponder in the Park,
Near some frail nymph as hungry, beauteous sinner!
And now, alone, voracious as a shark,
Dream of a feast, or count the trees for dinner.
Near some frail nymph as hungry, beauteous sinner!
And now, alone, voracious as a shark,
Dream of a feast, or count the trees for dinner.
Behold the catgut-scraper with his crowd,
Commands at will the house of hospitality,
Sits by the peer, not Lucifer more proud,
And hobs or nobs it with the man of quality.
Commands at will the house of hospitality,
Sits by the peer, not Lucifer more proud,
And hobs or nobs it with the man of quality.
328
And now, behold a bellowing calf knocks in,
He thunders, and no porter dares oppose—
Jokes with his lordship, fills himself to chin,
Where the poor poet dares not show his nose.
He thunders, and no porter dares oppose—
Jokes with his lordship, fills himself to chin,
Where the poor poet dares not show his nose.
Behold the canvass-dauber, he can draw
My lady's cat's-face, or her pug, or parrot,
Shall range at large the mansion, and give law,—
But where's the modest poet?—in his garret!
My lady's cat's-face, or her pug, or parrot,
Shall range at large the mansion, and give law,—
But where's the modest poet?—in his garret!
Such is the bard's sad fate of modern days,
To gain Life's comforts by his art, unable—
A man despis'd! the long-ear'd beast that brays,
Finds in his manger a superior table.
To gain Life's comforts by his art, unable—
A man despis'd! the long-ear'd beast that brays,
Finds in his manger a superior table.
O! Independence, to thy name I kneel!
Yes, with idolatry I bend the knee;
If aught of pride, aspiring pride, I feel,
Sweet nymph of freedom, 'tis to live with thee.
Yes, with idolatry I bend the knee;
If aught of pride, aspiring pride, I feel,
Sweet nymph of freedom, 'tis to live with thee.
Then sorrow never would my heart invade;
Then let us in some rural mansion dwell;
Content will join us there, the simple maid,
And to a little heav'n convert our cell.
Then let us in some rural mansion dwell;
Content will join us there, the simple maid,
And to a little heav'n convert our cell.
Content gives freshness to the fields of air,
With every sweet the breath of Zephyr fills;
Can make our common viands dainty fare,
And yield a flavour to the fountain's rills.
With every sweet the breath of Zephyr fills;
Can make our common viands dainty fare,
And yield a flavour to the fountain's rills.
Thus will we pass in silent ease the day,
Each hour shall carry sunshine on its wings;
Nor envy Salisb'ry's glory at the play,
Five hours a stake behind the chair of kings.
Each hour shall carry sunshine on its wings;
Nor envy Salisb'ry's glory at the play,
Five hours a stake behind the chair of kings.
The Works of Peter Pindar [i.e. John Wolcot] | ||