ELEGY I.
The Poet lamenteth, in the Strain of the Son of Jesse, his hard Fate, but not quite destitute of Hope.—In the Language of Music, follows a long String of sharps in a Key illustrating the Subject, and displaying the Fertility of the Poet's Imagination.—Great Expectation on Account of Honour conferred on Mr. Sheridan.—The Poet's Humility in wishing even to be seated with the degraded Commons of England, upon the Grass in the Garden, under Canvass.
In grief, I sat upon the bank of Thame;
(But not, thank God, a captive, like the Jews
;)
And when the Jubilee
to memory came,
Tears burst in torrents from my Lady Muse.
Yet, lo, one beam, one solitary ray,
Pierc'd the dark cloud that wrapp'd my sandy seat;
A great, sublime, a wonderful display
Of Eastern Grandeur at the Prince's Fête.
“Here,” said I to myself, “I build some hope,
(Perchance a slight foundation, rather rotten:)
No longer doom'd in solitude to mope,
At Carlton Fête I may not be forgotten.”
Sharp as a pining Maid expects the Post,
That brings epistle full of lovesick sighs;
Or as the Dog in seeming slumber lost,
Who slily winks, to snap the teasing flies:—
Sharp as, amid the fields of air, a Kite,
In hopes of feasting on a barn-door fowl;
Or as for mice, amid the dusky night,
O'er hill and dale the solitary Owl:—
Sharp as a Bailiff for a hiding debtor;
Or as the hard Churchwarden on the poor;
Or bilious Critic on a word, or letter,
To scalp his victim author o'er and o'er:
Sharp as an Epicure upon the haunch,
His two eyes jealous of the favourite fat;
Or on the turtle, to enlarge his paunch
With thrice the quantity would fill a hat:
Sharp as the Bank upon a doubtful note;
Or hungry Frenchmen for a limb of frog;
Or Borough-monger for a casting vote,
Intent to sell poor Freedom like a Hog:
Sharp as a trading justice for a bible,
To give the oath, no matter false or true;
Or dread Sir Vinegar to seize a libel,
And strike th' offending dog with vengeance due:—
Sharp as Sir Vinegar, who look'd in vain
To shove his bottom into Mansfield's place;
Or as Jack Ketch surveys the felon train,
In hope of necks to meet his rope's embrace:—
Sharp as Lord Puzzle for his office-fee,
To keep his poverty-struck house, so poor;
Where none my Lord and Lady Puzzle see,
Save keen Economy, who bolts the door:—
Sharp as our Alexander, gallant York,
Look'd out for poor Sir David's resignation;
Who now (for merit miracles can work)
O'er Slander triumphs, and resumes his station:—
Sharp as Marcellus for the rapturous hour
That yields the Dame whom every charm adorn;
When kind Cornutus takes his prudent tour,
And calmly in his pocket puts his horns:
Exulting thus, in language rather coarse;
“What's wife to honours?—stuff, beneath my care:
Make me, ye Gods, but Master of the Horse,
The Devil may be the master of my mare;”
So sharp I listen'd, yea, with full-stretch'd ear,
To every knock, no matter soft or hard;
At once, in Fancy's eye, I saw appear
A Royal compliment to me the Bard.
Said I, “If Sheridan a favourite be,
The moral Mentor of the Princely mind;
Some compliment will come to moral me:
The Lyric moralist must favour find.”
Yes, to myself I whisper'd (not in joke),
“At Carlton House I sure shall eat, and quaff;
Although not cheek by jowl with Royal folk,
Yet under canvass with the common raff:”—
Raff that we Britons with our freedom trust,
Yet now consider'd as mere reptile things;
Raff that can form a Monarch from the dust;
Raff that confers a Majesty on Kings.
