The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop ... To Which are Prefixed, Memoirs of the Life of the Author By the Rev. Thomas Clare |
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TO THE REVEREND DR. ALTHAM.
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 | The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop |  |
131
TO THE REVEREND DR. ALTHAM.
THANKS FOR A PRESENT OF A PIG. WRITTEN UNDER AN EMBLEM OF ELOQUENCE, REPRESENTED BY THE FIGURE OF A MAN EXALTED ON A PEDESTAL, AND HOLDING THE EARS OF HIS AUDITORS IN STRINGS.
From a scrub book, no matter what,
This Type of Eloquence I got;
But think, with better right and grace,
Your Pig may take the Speaker's place.
This Type of Eloquence I got;
But think, with better right and grace,
Your Pig may take the Speaker's place.
For, from the moment I drew out
From straw and packthread it's round snout,
I've listen'd to the news it brings,
As if it held my ears in strings.
From straw and packthread it's round snout,
I've listen'd to the news it brings,
As if it held my ears in strings.
132
Ask you upon what theme it dwells?
—Hear then the tale, a dead Pig tells!—
—Hear then the tale, a dead Pig tells!—
First, Sir, and foremost, thus it saith,
“That Rumour is not ground for Faith.”
—No great discovery I allow;—
Yet mighty welcome doctrine now:
For Rumour you must know, with too many
Sad symptoms of a Peripneumony,
Had laid you up—and would, no doubt,
Ere long have kill'd, and laid you out.
But this same Pig of yours alleges,
(And for it's truth it's carcase pledges,
Whereto it adds, by way of proof,
A label scrawl'd with your own hoof,)
That you (let Fame lie more or less)
Two properties at least possess
Of Men alive, and fit to live—
—An hand to write—an heart to give.
“That Rumour is not ground for Faith.”
—No great discovery I allow;—
Yet mighty welcome doctrine now:
For Rumour you must know, with too many
Sad symptoms of a Peripneumony,
Had laid you up—and would, no doubt,
Ere long have kill'd, and laid you out.
But this same Pig of yours alleges,
(And for it's truth it's carcase pledges,
Whereto it adds, by way of proof,
A label scrawl'd with your own hoof,)
That you (let Fame lie more or less)
Two properties at least possess
Of Men alive, and fit to live—
—An hand to write—an heart to give.
133
Moreover, it sets forth, as fully,
As if 't had studied under Tully,
That, spite of changes and of chances,
Time, distance, and cross circumstances,
An odd old Comrade's name can fill
One corner of your memory still;
An honour, truly worth my getting;
A joy, that shrinks not in the wetting:
To which, had I the life of Nestor,
I would subscribe my—Ita testor.
As if 't had studied under Tully,
That, spite of changes and of chances,
Time, distance, and cross circumstances,
An odd old Comrade's name can fill
One corner of your memory still;
An honour, truly worth my getting;
A joy, that shrinks not in the wetting:
To which, had I the life of Nestor,
I would subscribe my—Ita testor.
Am I then an ill estimator,
Who call your Pig a Prime Orator?
No.—If 'tis Eloquence's part
To give a fillip to the heart,
Try Pigs, and Speech-makers ad libitum,
When, where, and how you please, exhibit 'em,
Yet from earth's surface to it's centre,
You'll never find an eloquenter.
Who call your Pig a Prime Orator?
No.—If 'tis Eloquence's part
To give a fillip to the heart,
Try Pigs, and Speech-makers ad libitum,
When, where, and how you please, exhibit 'em,
Yet from earth's surface to it's centre,
You'll never find an eloquenter.
134
So much for rhyme.—Descende, Pegase!—
—What! and forget Dame Hanway's Legacy!—
The Pig indeed spoke not a word on't;
Perhaps, because it never heard on't;
Perhaps, because it would not puff:
—But Jem's authority's enough:
And Jem has stated an account
Of Goods and Monies;—whose amount
Will fill with plate your shop, and his shop;
Your pockets; and I hope your wish up;—
Whereof God give you joy!—Yours, Bishop.
—What! and forget Dame Hanway's Legacy!—
The Pig indeed spoke not a word on't;
Perhaps, because it never heard on't;
Perhaps, because it would not puff:
—But Jem's authority's enough:
And Jem has stated an account
Of Goods and Monies;—whose amount
Will fill with plate your shop, and his shop;
Your pockets; and I hope your wish up;—
Whereof God give you joy!—Yours, Bishop.
| The Poetical Works of The Rev. Samuel Bishop | |