Apollo's Maggot in his Cups or, the Whimsical Creation of a Little Satyrical Poet. A Lyrick Ode [by Edward Ward] |
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To the Worshipful Dicky Dickison, Esq;
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 | Apollo's Maggot in his Cups |  |
To the Worshipful Dicky Dickison, Esq;
Distorted Governour of Scarborough-Spaw, and Jester in Ordinary to the Merry Northern Aquæpotes.
To thee, my honest Yorkshire Friend,
The foll'wing Farce I recommend,
Wherein, thou may'st behold thy Face
And Shape, as in a Looking-Glass.
Æsop himself, could never show
A Back like thine, my little Beau;
Or for his Comic Gestures be
More vallu'd or admir'd than thee;
Nor are thy Beauties only seen
Without, but have their seat within,
And shine, to all that near thee pass,
Like Lamp-Light thro' a Convex-glass.
The foll'wing Farce I recommend,
Wherein, thou may'st behold thy Face
And Shape, as in a Looking-Glass.
Æsop himself, could never show
A Back like thine, my little Beau;
More vallu'd or admir'd than thee;
Nor are thy Beauties only seen
Without, but have their seat within,
And shine, to all that near thee pass,
Like Lamp-Light thro' a Convex-glass.
In Wit, we own thou do'st excel,
But that, alas! thou know'st too well;
Both Greek and Latin hast in store,
No Hudibras could boast of more;
But, as for what we call Discretion,
That sutes not with thy Inclination;
Besides, Truth, Justice, Gratitude,
Vertues, by some, upheld for good,
In crooked Wits and grinning Satyrs,
Spleen over-rules, as trifling Matters;
Such Ornaments but rarely shine
In bevil Mansions, built like thine,
Superlatively bless'd or curst,
If good the best, if bad the worst.
Just like the Tongues that Æsop drest,
For Xanthus, to promote a Jest.
But that, alas! thou know'st too well;
Both Greek and Latin hast in store,
No Hudibras could boast of more;
But, as for what we call Discretion,
That sutes not with thy Inclination;
Besides, Truth, Justice, Gratitude,
Vertues, by some, upheld for good,
In crooked Wits and grinning Satyrs,
Spleen over-rules, as trifling Matters;
Such Ornaments but rarely shine
In bevil Mansions, built like thine,
If good the best, if bad the worst.
Just like the Tongues that Æsop drest,
For Xanthus, to promote a Jest.
Nor do the Ladies that frequent
The Wells, for Health and Merriment,
Tho' to thy Merits over kind,
Admire the Beauties of thy Mind,
But like thee, as they do their Apes,
Not for thy Wit, but Monkey-shapes.
So, those that do themselves dispose
To visit childish Puppit-Shows,
Are always friends to Punchionello,
Because an odd-shap'd merry Fellow,
And will approve and highly praise
Whate'er that Puppit does or says,
When both his Gesture and his Jest,
Lie most in his Hump-back and Breast.
But since all little things are Pritty,
And Dwarfs deform'd move human Pity,
The World will think the crooked, Witty.
The Wells, for Health and Merriment,
Tho' to thy Merits over kind,
Admire the Beauties of thy Mind,
But like thee, as they do their Apes,
Not for thy Wit, but Monkey-shapes.
So, those that do themselves dispose
To visit childish Puppit-Shows,
Are always friends to Punchionello,
Because an odd-shap'd merry Fellow,
And will approve and highly praise
Whate'er that Puppit does or says,
When both his Gesture and his Jest,
Lie most in his Hump-back and Breast.
And Dwarfs deform'd move human Pity,
The World will think the crooked, Witty.
I know, my Friend, at Scarb'rough Wells,
Thy pleasing Talent none excels,
And as for Beauty, if it lies
In giving Flesh and Blood surprise,
No charming Mortal can desire
To raise our admiration higher,
Than you can do, when you're inclin'd
To stir up Wonder in Mankind;
'Tis but appearing to Beholders,
Without false Calfs and padded Shoulders;
Then, with astonishment, they'll see
A Chaos, few can show but thee,
A frightful, indigested Lump,
With here a Hollow, there a Hump;
A true Epitome of Wales,
Made up of ugly Hills and Dales.
Thy pleasing Talent none excels,
And as for Beauty, if it lies
In giving Flesh and Blood surprise,
No charming Mortal can desire
To raise our admiration higher,
Than you can do, when you're inclin'd
To stir up Wonder in Mankind;
'Tis but appearing to Beholders,
Without false Calfs and padded Shoulders;
Then, with astonishment, they'll see
A Chaos, few can show but thee,
A frightful, indigested Lump,
With here a Hollow, there a Hump;
A true Epitome of Wales,
Made up of ugly Hills and Dales.
But kind Apollo, from on high,
Beholding so much Wit awry,
And finding that it thriv'd the better,
For being hous'd in such a Creature,
Resolv'd to form a little Ape,
Exactly of thy Face and Shape,
And constitute him, when he'ad done,
A Poet, (thou, I know, art none.)
Nor, is it fit there should be two
Such monstrous Bards, as him and you;
Since, one proud Satyr is enough
To set the Wits at kick and cuff,
And make 'em spend their fertile Brains
In civil Wars, for little Gains;
Or squabble, just as Wrestlers try
Their Strength, to please the Standers-by:
But, since the God has form'd another,
In e'ery part, thy very Brother;
Alike, as Monkey-Twins, in Feature,
Untimely kindled at one Litter,
And left forlorn by Mother Ape,
Before she'ad lick'd 'em into Shape.
Beholding so much Wit awry,
And finding that it thriv'd the better,
For being hous'd in such a Creature,
Resolv'd to form a little Ape,
Exactly of thy Face and Shape,
And constitute him, when he'ad done,
A Poet, (thou, I know, art none.)
Nor, is it fit there should be two
Such monstrous Bards, as him and you;
Since, one proud Satyr is enough
To set the Wits at kick and cuff,
And make 'em spend their fertile Brains
In civil Wars, for little Gains;
Or squabble, just as Wrestlers try
Their Strength, to please the Standers-by:
But, since the God has form'd another,
In e'ery part, thy very Brother;
Alike, as Monkey-Twins, in Feature,
Untimely kindled at one Litter,
Before she'ad lick'd 'em into Shape.
I say, since he, to shew his Art,
Has bless'd us with thy counter Part,
I've blazon'd, in the following Poem,
His Beauties, that the World may know him,
And by all Eyes, that to their wonder,
See both together, or asunder,
It must be by all Judges own'd,
Two crumpling Wits were never found
Before, so like, on British Ground.
Has bless'd us with thy counter Part,
I've blazon'd, in the following Poem,
His Beauties, that the World may know him,
And by all Eyes, that to their wonder,
See both together, or asunder,
It must be by all Judges own'd,
Two crumpling Wits were never found
Before, so like, on British Ground.
Greater similitude's not given
To the twin Stars, that shine in Heaven,
Nor can the distant Bears that rowl
Their Bodies round the Northern Pole,
Appear, at Night, to common view,
More monstrously alike than you;
Tho' Ursa Major, by repute,
Is Parent to the Minor Brute,
And commonly the Cub and Mother
Have much resemblance of each other.
To the twin Stars, that shine in Heaven,
Nor can the distant Bears that rowl
Their Bodies round the Northern Pole,
Appear, at Night, to common view,
More monstrously alike than you;
Is Parent to the Minor Brute,
And commonly the Cub and Mother
Have much resemblance of each other.
Were you, like them, to be translated,
And in the Zodiack constellated,
You'd puzzle more than both the Bears,
When gaz'd at by Astronomers;
And give this neather World surprise,
Beyond all Wonders in the Skies;
Where, as Astrologers report
Dwell starry Brutes of e'ery sort;
Among which Herd, the learned place
Some frightful Forms of human Race;
Why, therefore, may not you, that are
Two Prodigies beyond compare,
Be hoisted up? Since Heaven's as free
For Monsters, as the Land or Sea.
And in the Zodiack constellated,
You'd puzzle more than both the Bears,
When gaz'd at by Astronomers;
And give this neather World surprise,
Beyond all Wonders in the Skies;
Where, as Astrologers report
Dwell starry Brutes of e'ery sort;
Among which Herd, the learned place
Some frightful Forms of human Race;
Why, therefore, may not you, that are
Two Prodigies beyond compare,
Be hoisted up? Since Heaven's as free
For Monsters, as the Land or Sea.
I fear, by this time, I have fir'd
Your Passion, or your Patience tir'd;
Therefore, dear Dicky, pray excuse
The Flirts and Sportings of my Muse;
And, to attone for her transgression,
Sh'as sent you an exact relation
Of your new Counterpart's Creation.
Your Passion, or your Patience tir'd;
Therefore, dear Dicky, pray excuse
The Flirts and Sportings of my Muse;
And, to attone for her transgression,
Sh'as sent you an exact relation
Of your new Counterpart's Creation.
The Dress, in which I've cloth'd the Whim,
I own's as homely as the Theme,
Set off with no learn'd Illustrations,
Or fine rhetorical Expressions;
No pompous Metaphors, new coin'd,
Or frothy Raptures re-refin'd;
No Epithets to grace the Diction,
Or Fables to support the Fiction;
However, Friend, look not awry,
At what you'll meet with by and by,
But take it well, as I intend it,
And as you like it, recommend it.
I own's as homely as the Theme,
Set off with no learn'd Illustrations,
Or fine rhetorical Expressions;
No pompous Metaphors, new coin'd,
Or frothy Raptures re-refin'd;
No Epithets to grace the Diction,
Or Fables to support the Fiction;
However, Friend, look not awry,
At what you'll meet with by and by,
But take it well, as I intend it,
And as you like it, recommend it.
| Apollo's Maggot in his Cups | |