Horace in London Consisting of imitations of the first two books of the odes of Horace. By the authors of the rejected addresses, or the new theatrum poetarum [Horace and James Smith] |
 | I. | BOOK I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXII. |
| XXIII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
 | II. |
 | Horace in London |  |
15
BOOK I.
ODE I. To John Bull, Esq.
Mæcenas atavis edite regibus.
Dread Sir! half human, half divine,
Descended from a lengthen'd line
Of heroes famed in story—
Of Ocean undisputed lord;
Of Europe and her recreant horde
The “riddle, jest and glory.”
Descended from a lengthen'd line
Of heroes famed in story—
Of Ocean undisputed lord;
Of Europe and her recreant horde
The “riddle, jest and glory.”
What various sports attract your sons!
Some to Hyde Park escape from duns,
In curricle or tandem:
In dusty clouds envelop'd quite,
Like Jove, who from Olympus height,
Hurls thunderbolts at random.
Some to Hyde Park escape from duns,
In curricle or tandem:
In dusty clouds envelop'd quite,
Like Jove, who from Olympus height,
Hurls thunderbolts at random.
16
One draws his gold from Lombard Street,
Amongst the Lords to buy a seat,
The Lord knows why or wherefore:
Another, give him rural sports,
And crouded cities, splendid courts,
He not a jot will care for.
Amongst the Lords to buy a seat,
The Lord knows why or wherefore:
Another, give him rural sports,
And crouded cities, splendid courts,
He not a jot will care for.
The merchant, baulk'd by Boreas, vents
His idle anger, and laments
Some luckless speculation:
Of ease, and Clapham Common talks,
But soon on Gresham's murmuring walks
Resumes his daily station.
His idle anger, and laments
Some luckless speculation:
Of ease, and Clapham Common talks,
But soon on Gresham's murmuring walks
Resumes his daily station.
This makes the jolly God his theme,
In claret drowns Aurora's beam,
And riots with the friskers:
That a dragoon, delights in arms,
And thoughtless of Mamma's alarms,
Sports high-heel'd boots and whiskers.
In claret drowns Aurora's beam,
And riots with the friskers:
That a dragoon, delights in arms,
And thoughtless of Mamma's alarms,
Sports high-heel'd boots and whiskers.
17
The hunter quits his bed at five,
The fox or timorous deer to drive
Down precipices horrid,
And carries home, returning late,
A trophy for his amorous mate,
The antlers on his forehead!
The fox or timorous deer to drive
Down precipices horrid,
And carries home, returning late,
A trophy for his amorous mate,
The antlers on his forehead!
Me toil and ease alternate share,
Books, and the converse of the fair,
(To see is to adore 'em;)
With these and London for my home,
I envy not the joys of Rome,
The Circus or the Forum!
Books, and the converse of the fair,
(To see is to adore 'em;)
With these and London for my home,
I envy not the joys of Rome,
The Circus or the Forum!
If you, great Sir, will deign to vote
For Horace, in his London coat,
Nor check my classic fury;
Great Magog of the lyric train,
I'll mount to kiss the Muses twain,
Who face the Gods of Drury.
For Horace, in his London coat,
Nor check my classic fury;
Great Magog of the lyric train,
I'll mount to kiss the Muses twain,
Who face the Gods of Drury.
18
ODE II. HURLY BURLY!
Jam satis terris nivis, atque diræ.
Enough! the dog has had his day,
The cat has mew'd her hour:
Th'imprison'd Gale is blown away,
Burdett has fled the Tower.
The nation fear'd those scenes of woe,
So fatal thirty years ago,
When dreading neither axe nor rope,
An outward Christian, inward Jew,
Fierce Gordon led th'enthusiast crew
To persecute the Pope.
The cat has mew'd her hour:
Th'imprison'd Gale is blown away,
Burdett has fled the Tower.
The nation fear'd those scenes of woe,
So fatal thirty years ago,
When dreading neither axe nor rope,
An outward Christian, inward Jew,
Fierce Gordon led th'enthusiast crew
To persecute the Pope.
19
Oh fatal and disastrous year!
When oyster-vending dames,
Made London's train bands disappear,
And wrapp'd her walls in flames:
The chimney sweep assail'd the shop,
The 'prentice climb'd the chimney top,
Impunity made cowards bold:
While Plutus in his last retreat,
Stood trembling in Threadneedle Street,
And hugg'd his bags of gold.
When oyster-vending dames,
Made London's train bands disappear,
And wrapp'd her walls in flames:
The chimney sweep assail'd the shop,
The 'prentice climb'd the chimney top,
Impunity made cowards bold:
While Plutus in his last retreat,
Stood trembling in Threadneedle Street,
And hugg'd his bags of gold.
We saw the mob, like Oceans' flood,
By howling tempests driven,
Assail the King's dragoons with mud,
And menace old St. Stephen.
Again they rage, the bird is flown;
Sir Francis, aw'd by Whithread's frown,
To father Thames commits his fate:
In secret the uxorious tide,
Safe bears him to the Surrey side,
To join his anxious mate.
By howling tempests driven,
Assail the King's dragoons with mud,
And menace old St. Stephen.
Again they rage, the bird is flown;
Sir Francis, aw'd by Whithread's frown,
To father Thames commits his fate:
In secret the uxorious tide,
Safe bears him to the Surrey side,
To join his anxious mate.
20
From street to street Bellona runs,
In dark blue ribbons clad:
To hear the tale, our sober sons
Will think their fathers mad.
What power can awe the impending Gaul,
What psalm avert Britannia's fall,
What sacred tabbies stop the evil?
Has Southcott, in her straw built cell,
No talisman, no mutter'd spell,
To drive away the Devil?
In dark blue ribbons clad:
To hear the tale, our sober sons
Will think their fathers mad.
What power can awe the impending Gaul,
What psalm avert Britannia's fall,
What sacred tabbies stop the evil?
Has Southcott, in her straw built cell,
No talisman, no mutter'd spell,
To drive away the Devil?
Ah no! for still from south to north,
Sedition swells the gale!
Come then, at folly's call, roll forth,
Ye tubs to faction's whale.
Come, Winsor's lamp, Polito's apes,
Come Hawke, thou peer of many capes,
Pearl-button'd and drab-coated spark!
And thou, the dame of wicked wit,
Round whom the infant hoaxes flit,
Come, mighty Mistress Clarke.
Sedition swells the gale!
Come then, at folly's call, roll forth,
Ye tubs to faction's whale.
Come, Winsor's lamp, Polito's apes,
Come Hawke, thou peer of many capes,
Pearl-button'd and drab-coated spark!
And thou, the dame of wicked wit,
Round whom the infant hoaxes flit,
Come, mighty Mistress Clarke.
21
And thou, great saint, at humour's call,
Joy of the rabble, come!
Whose praise the Smithfield muses bawl,
With rattle, horn, and drum.
When Saturnalian sports draw near,
Three days in each revolving year,
'Tis thine to lead the frolic hours:
Heed not, dread sir, thy loss of skin,
Thy jocund revelry and din
Have made us jump from ours.
Joy of the rabble, come!
Whose praise the Smithfield muses bawl,
With rattle, horn, and drum.
When Saturnalian sports draw near,
Three days in each revolving year,
'Tis thine to lead the frolic hours:
Heed not, dread sir, thy loss of skin,
Thy jocund revelry and din
Have made us jump from ours.
Come, too, Mendoza, foe to ham,
Whose fame no bruise can sully;
Come, wary Crib, Batavian Sam,
And last, not least, come Gully.
Assuming the dictator's seat,
Late to thy Plough in Carey Street,
Return to end thy halcyon days:
Long may'st thou rally, hit, and stop,
And may no envious Newgate-drop
Put out thy glory's blaze.
Whose fame no bruise can sully;
Come, wary Crib, Batavian Sam,
And last, not least, come Gully.
Assuming the dictator's seat,
Late to thy Plough in Carey Street,
Return to end thy halcyon days:
Long may'st thou rally, hit, and stop,
And may no envious Newgate-drop
Put out thy glory's blaze.
22
While amateurs, for fame athirst,
Entwine with ardent vows
The laurel wreath at Moulsey Hurst,
Around thy batter'd brows,
If any sheriff dare to wield
His wand to clear th'embattled field,
Stand forth, and down the gauntlet fling;
With frequent fists the intruder check,
Or grasp his chain-encircled neck,
And fib him from the ring.
Entwine with ardent vows
The laurel wreath at Moulsey Hurst,
Around thy batter'd brows,
If any sheriff dare to wield
His wand to clear th'embattled field,
Stand forth, and down the gauntlet fling;
With frequent fists the intruder check,
Or grasp his chain-encircled neck,
And fib him from the ring.
23
ODE III. THE BARONET'S YACHT.
Sic te Diva potens Cypri.
Dear Venus, quit Idalia's lawn,
In Cyprian car by turtles drawn,
At Neptune's sea-green footstool fawn,
And make him, willy nilly;
Sweet oil upon the waters pour,
And thus the venturous Yacht restore,
That carried off from Thanet's shore,
My soul's best half—Sir Billy.
In Cyprian car by turtles drawn,
At Neptune's sea-green footstool fawn,
And make him, willy nilly;
Sweet oil upon the waters pour,
And thus the venturous Yacht restore,
That carried off from Thanet's shore,
My soul's best half—Sir Billy.
He surely view'd in looking-glass,
A nose of copper, cheek of brass,
Who thus in feeble yacht could pass
Within the range of cannons:
When hostile squadrons beat the hoof,
And citizens won't keep aloof,
Hat, boot, and stocking water-proof,
I reckon sine qua nons.
A nose of copper, cheek of brass,
Who thus in feeble yacht could pass
Within the range of cannons:
24
And citizens won't keep aloof,
Hat, boot, and stocking water-proof,
I reckon sine qua nons.
That hardy mortal knows not fear,
Who ventures out from Ramsgate Pier,
And as the Gallic cliffs draw near,
With careless eye looks at 'em—
But bolder he himself who coops
In his own little bark, nor stoops
To heed the quizzing of the troops,
Led by the Earl of Chatham.
Who ventures out from Ramsgate Pier,
And as the Gallic cliffs draw near,
With careless eye looks at 'em—
But bolder he himself who coops
In his own little bark, nor stoops
To heed the quizzing of the troops,
Led by the Earl of Chatham.
In vain shall Neptune's prudent tide,
Old Kent from Picardy divide;
Sir William's boat in painted pride,
Unites the coasts again.
He undulates on Ocean's swell,
Like her who rules Idalia's dell,
Drawn by a turtle in a shell
Triumphant o'er the main.
Old Kent from Picardy divide;
Sir William's boat in painted pride,
Unites the coasts again.
He undulates on Ocean's swell,
Like her who rules Idalia's dell,
Drawn by a turtle in a shell
Triumphant o'er the main.
25
What wonders all the papers fill!
With rockets now the foe we kill,
We burrow under Highgate Hill,
Each day outdoes the other.
See through Pall Mall each lovely lass,
By night illuminated pass,
While Winsor lights, with flame of gas,
Home to King's Place—his mother.
With rockets now the foe we kill,
We burrow under Highgate Hill,
Each day outdoes the other.
See through Pall Mall each lovely lass,
By night illuminated pass,
While Winsor lights, with flame of gas,
Home to King's Place—his mother.
In parachute by way of change,
With Garnerin in air we range,
Surpassing all the wonders strange
That e'er Munchausen told us.
Great Jupiter! for mercy's sake,
Me to a cooler planet take,
For at this rate we soon shall make
The world too hot to hold us!
With Garnerin in air we range,
Surpassing all the wonders strange
That e'er Munchausen told us.
Great Jupiter! for mercy's sake,
Me to a cooler planet take,
For at this rate we soon shall make
The world too hot to hold us!
26
ODE IV. BRIGHTON.
Solvitur acris hyems gratâ vice veris.
Now fruitful autumn lifts his sun-burnt head,
The slighted Park few cambric muslins whiten,
The dry machines revisit Ocean's bed,
And Horace quits awhile the town for Brighton.
The slighted Park few cambric muslins whiten,
The dry machines revisit Ocean's bed,
And Horace quits awhile the town for Brighton.
The cit foregoes his box at Turnham Green,
To pick up health and shells with Amphitrite,
Pleasure's frail daughters trip along the Steyne,
Led by the dame the Greeks call Aphrodite.
To pick up health and shells with Amphitrite,
Pleasure's frail daughters trip along the Steyne,
Led by the dame the Greeks call Aphrodite.
Phœbus, the tanner, plies his fiery trade,
The graceful nymphs ascend Judea's ponies,
Scale the west cliff, or visit the parade,
While poor papa in town a patient drone is.
The graceful nymphs ascend Judea's ponies,
Scale the west cliff, or visit the parade,
While poor papa in town a patient drone is.
27
Loose trowsers snatch the wreath from pantaloons;
Nankeen of late were worn the sultry weather in;
But now, (so will the Prince's Light Dragoons,)
White jean have triumph'd o'er their Indian brethren.
Nankeen of late were worn the sultry weather in;
But now, (so will the Prince's Light Dragoons,)
White jean have triumph'd o'er their Indian brethren.
Here with choice food earth smiles and ocean yawns,
Intent alike to please the London glutton,
This, for our breakfast proffers shrimps and prawns,
That, for our dinner, South-down lamb and mutton.
Intent alike to please the London glutton,
This, for our breakfast proffers shrimps and prawns,
That, for our dinner, South-down lamb and mutton.
Yet here, as elsewhere, death impartial reigns,
Visits alike the cot and the Pavilion,
And for a bribe, with equal scorn disdains
My half a crown, and Baring's half a million.
Visits alike the cot and the Pavilion,
And for a bribe, with equal scorn disdains
My half a crown, and Baring's half a million.
Alas! how short the span of human pride!
Time flies, and hope's romantic schemes are undone;
Cosweller's coach, that carries four inside,
Waits to take back the unwilling bard to London.
Time flies, and hope's romantic schemes are undone;
Cosweller's coach, that carries four inside,
Waits to take back the unwilling bard to London.
Ye circulating novelists, adieu!
Long envious cords my black portmanteau tighten;
Billiards, begone! avaunt, illegal Ioo!
Farewell old Ocean's bauble, glittering Brighton!
Long envious cords my black portmanteau tighten;
Billiards, begone! avaunt, illegal Ioo!
Farewell old Ocean's bauble, glittering Brighton!
28
Long shalt thou laugh thine enemies to scorn,
Proud as Phœnicia, queen of watering places!
Boys yet unbreech'd, and virgins yet unborn,
On thy bleak downs shall tan their blooming faces.
Proud as Phœnicia, queen of watering places!
Boys yet unbreech'd, and virgins yet unborn,
On thy bleak downs shall tan their blooming faces.
29
ODE V. THE JILT.
Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosâ.
Say, Lucy, what enamour'd spark
Now sports thee through the gazing Park
In new barouche or tandem;
And, as infatuation leads,
Permits his reason and his steeds
To run their course at random?
Now sports thee through the gazing Park
In new barouche or tandem;
And, as infatuation leads,
Permits his reason and his steeds
To run their course at random?
Fond youth, those braids of ebon hair,
Which to a face already fair
Impart a lustre fairer;
Those locks which now invite to love,
Soon unconfin'd and false shall prove,
And changeful as the wearer.
Which to a face already fair
Impart a lustre fairer;
Those locks which now invite to love,
Soon unconfin'd and false shall prove,
And changeful as the wearer.
30
Unpractised in a woman's guile,
Thou think'st, perchance, her halcyon smile
Portends unruffled quiet:
That, ever charming, fond and mild,
No wanton thoughts, or passions wild,
Within her soul can riot.
Thou think'st, perchance, her halcyon smile
Portends unruffled quiet:
That, ever charming, fond and mild,
No wanton thoughts, or passions wild,
Within her soul can riot.
Alas! how often shalt thou mourn,
(If nymphs like her, so soon forsworn,
Be worth a moment's trouble,)
How quickly own, with sad surprise,
The paradise that bless'd thine eyes
Was painted on a bubble.
(If nymphs like her, so soon forsworn,
Be worth a moment's trouble,)
How quickly own, with sad surprise,
The paradise that bless'd thine eyes
Was painted on a bubble.
In her accommodating creed
A lord will always supersede
A commoner's embraces:
His lordship's love contents the fair,
Until enabled to ensnare
A nobler prize—his Grace's!
A lord will always supersede
A commoner's embraces:
His lordship's love contents the fair,
Until enabled to ensnare
A nobler prize—his Grace's!
31
Unhappy are the youths who gaze,
Who feel her beauty's maddening blaze,
And trust to what she utters!
For me, by sad experience wise,
At rosy cheeks or sparkling eyes,
My heart no longer flutters.
Who feel her beauty's maddening blaze,
And trust to what she utters!
For me, by sad experience wise,
At rosy cheeks or sparkling eyes,
My heart no longer flutters.
Chamber'd in Albany, I view
On every side a jovial crew
Of Benedictine neighbours.
I sip my coffee, read the news,
I own no mistress but the muse,
And she repays my labours.
On every side a jovial crew
Of Benedictine neighbours.
I sip my coffee, read the news,
I own no mistress but the muse,
And she repays my labours.
And should some brat her love bespeak,
(Though illegitimate and weak
As these unpolish'd verses;)
A father's joys shall still be mine,
Without the fear of parish fine,
Bills, beadles, quacks, or nurses.
(Though illegitimate and weak
As these unpolish'd verses;)
A father's joys shall still be mine,
Without the fear of parish fine,
Bills, beadles, quacks, or nurses.
32
ODE VI. WALTER SCOTT.
Scriberis Vario fortis, et hostium.
O Chivalry, thy gallant reign,
In prancing epic-ballad strain,
Let Walter Scott indite;
Chaunting the deeds inspir'd by thee,
When red-cross knights arm'd cap-a-pee,
Rode at the ring full gallantly,
Or triumph'd in the fight.
In prancing epic-ballad strain,
Let Walter Scott indite;
Chaunting the deeds inspir'd by thee,
When red-cross knights arm'd cap-a-pee,
Rode at the ring full gallantly,
Or triumph'd in the fight.
For me, I strive not, by my fay,
To imitate the minstrel's lay,
Tracing the Palmer on his way,
Through Scottish bourn and brake:
Unform'd for hero's deeds, I shun
The strain of lordly Marmion,
Or Lady of the Lake.
To imitate the minstrel's lay,
Tracing the Palmer on his way,
Through Scottish bourn and brake:
Unform'd for hero's deeds, I shun
The strain of lordly Marmion,
Or Lady of the Lake.
33
My modest muse, unskill'd in flights
Of Caledonia's border knights,
Forbears their glories to rehearse
In peaceful unpresuming verse.
Who can describe with honours due
Of northern clans the endless crew,
Creating endless war?
Unnumber'd Macs, of accent rude,
The Gordon, Home, and Huntley brood,
Græmes, Fosters, Fenwicks, who pursued
The amorous Lochinvar.
Of Caledonia's border knights,
Forbears their glories to rehearse
In peaceful unpresuming verse.
Who can describe with honours due
Of northern clans the endless crew,
Creating endless war?
Unnumber'd Macs, of accent rude,
The Gordon, Home, and Huntley brood,
Græmes, Fosters, Fenwicks, who pursued
The amorous Lochinvar.
Whether or not I feel love's pain,
I love the light accustom'd strain.
I sing no feast in hall so gay,
Save that upon my Lord Mayor's Day;
Record no arrow's fatal flight,
Save Cupid's, feather'd with delight,
And shoot alone my bloodless darts,
From beauty's eyes to lover's hearts.
I love the light accustom'd strain.
I sing no feast in hall so gay,
Save that upon my Lord Mayor's Day;
Record no arrow's fatal flight,
Save Cupid's, feather'd with delight,
And shoot alone my bloodless darts,
From beauty's eyes to lover's hearts.
40
ODE VII. THE OUSTED TREASURER.
Laudabunt alii claram Rhodon.
To Harry—Esq.
Some talk of Betterton and Booth,
And some above all praise, forsooth,
Extol their Idol Garrick;
Others will other names rehearse,
And celebrate their praise in verse,
Familiar or Pindaric.
And some above all praise, forsooth,
Extol their Idol Garrick;
Others will other names rehearse,
And celebrate their praise in verse,
Familiar or Pindaric.
With me not Barrymore's small note,
Nor Betty's gently whispering throat,
Nor Righi's manly quaver,
Nor Munden's freedom from grimace,
Nor Dignum's bold expressive face,
Are half so much in favor,
Nor Betty's gently whispering throat,
Nor Righi's manly quaver,
Nor Munden's freedom from grimace,
Nor Dignum's bold expressive face,
Are half so much in favor,
35
As jovial Cooke, whose thirsty soul
Quaffs inspiration from the bowl
Whene'er his spirits falter:
His grief and joy, his love and ire,
Are born of Bacchus, and their fire
Is stolen from his altar.
Quaffs inspiration from the bowl
Whene'er his spirits falter:
His grief and joy, his love and ire,
Are born of Bacchus, and their fire
Is stolen from his altar.
So, Harry, whether doom'd to roam
In banner'd camps, or lounge at home
In Twickenham's shady bowers,
Drink, and corroding cares resign,
Drink and illume with sparkling wine,
Life's dark and stormy hours.
In banner'd camps, or lounge at home
In Twickenham's shady bowers,
Drink, and corroding cares resign,
Drink and illume with sparkling wine,
Life's dark and stormy hours.
From Somerset's beloved house
Where lazy treasurers carouse
When Bardolph was ejected,
His nose with purple blossoms crown'd,
'Tis said he call'd his friends around,
And thus their grief corrected
Where lazy treasurers carouse
When Bardolph was ejected,
His nose with purple blossoms crown'd,
'Tis said he call'd his friends around,
And thus their grief corrected
36
Oh, ousted elves! companions boon!
May Fortune's wheel revolving soon,
Prove kinder than our master:
Let us but stick together still,
With Sherry's luck and Sherry's skill
We yet may brave disaster.
May Fortune's wheel revolving soon,
Prove kinder than our master:
Let us but stick together still,
With Sherry's luck and Sherry's skill
We yet may brave disaster.
For know, my friends, the Prince has sworn,
Although these sinecures be torn
Away from our pretensions,
That in some dear uncertain hour,
A future Somerset shall shower
On us its posts and pensions.
Although these sinecures be torn
Away from our pretensions,
That in some dear uncertain hour,
A future Somerset shall shower
On us its posts and pensions.
Ye whose stout hearts would ne'er submit
To all the eloquence of Pitt,
Fired with the love of places,
Drink deep and banish care and woe,
To-morrow we are doom'd to know,
Short commons and long faces.
To all the eloquence of Pitt,
Fired with the love of places,
Drink deep and banish care and woe,
To-morrow we are doom'd to know,
Short commons and long faces.
37
ODE VIII. To HUNTINGDON, the Preacher.
Lydia dic per omnes.
By those locks so lank and sable,
Which adown thy shoulders hang,
By thy phiz right lamentable,
And thy humming nasal twang;
Which adown thy shoulders hang,
By thy phiz right lamentable,
And thy humming nasal twang;
Huntingdon, thou queer fanatic,
Tell me why thy love and grace,
Thus invade my servant's attic,
To unfit him for his place.
Tell me why thy love and grace,
Thus invade my servant's attic,
To unfit him for his place.
For the new light ever pining,
Thomas groans, and hums and ha's;
But alas! the light is shining,
Only through his lanthorn jaws.
Thomas groans, and hums and ha's;
But alas! the light is shining,
Only through his lanthorn jaws.
38
May-pole pranks and fiddle scrapers
In his eye sight change their hue,
Lowering Athanasian vapours,
Cloud his brain with devils blue.
In his eye sight change their hue,
Lowering Athanasian vapours,
Cloud his brain with devils blue.
From his fellows far asunder,
Tom enjoys his morning stave:
Works are but a heathen blunder;
Faith alone has power to save.
Tom enjoys his morning stave:
Works are but a heathen blunder;
Faith alone has power to save.
From young Hal the tavern waiter,
Oft the boxing prize he'd carry;
Now the pious gladiator,
Wrestles only with Old Harry.
Oft the boxing prize he'd carry;
Now the pious gladiator,
Wrestles only with Old Harry.
Potent once at quoits and cricket,
Head erect and heart elate,
Now, alas! he heeds no wicket,
Save John Bunyan's wicket gate.
Head erect and heart elate,
Now, alas! he heeds no wicket,
Save John Bunyan's wicket gate.
As some clown in listing season,
Blinds himself to shun the ranks;
Tom, because he blinds his reason,
Thinks to play his pious pranks.
Blinds himself to shun the ranks;
Tom, because he blinds his reason,
Thinks to play his pious pranks.
39
But if such his holy rage is
Let it be its own reward;
I'll no longer pay his wages;
Me he serves not, but the Lord.
Let it be its own reward;
I'll no longer pay his wages;
Me he serves not, but the Lord.
40
ODE IX. WINTER.
Vides, ut altâ stet nive candidum Soracte.
See Richmond is clad in a mantle of snow;
The woods that o'ershadow'd the hill,
Now bend with their load, while the river below,
In musical murmurs forgetting to flow,
Stands mournfully frozen and still.
The woods that o'ershadow'd the hill,
Now bend with their load, while the river below,
In musical murmurs forgetting to flow,
Stands mournfully frozen and still.
Who cares for the winter! my sun beams shall shine
Serene from a register stove;
With two or three jolly companions to dine,
And two or three bottles of generous wine,
The rest I relinquish to Jove.
Serene from a register stove;
With two or three jolly companions to dine,
And two or three bottles of generous wine,
The rest I relinquish to Jove.
41
The oak bows its head in the hurricane's swell,
Condemn'd in its glory to fall:
The marigold dies unperceiv'd in the dell,
Unable alike to retard or impel,
The crisis assign'd to us all.
Condemn'd in its glory to fall:
The marigold dies unperceiv'd in the dell,
Unable alike to retard or impel,
The crisis assign'd to us all.
Then banish to-morrow, its hopes and its fears;
To-day is the prize we have won:
Ere surly old age in its wrinkles appears,
With laughter and love, in your juvenile years
Make sure of the days as they run.
To-day is the prize we have won:
Ere surly old age in its wrinkles appears,
With laughter and love, in your juvenile years
Make sure of the days as they run.
The park and the playhouse my presence shall greet,
The opera yield its delight;
Catalani may charm me, but oh! far more sweet,
The musical voice of Laurette when we meet
In tête-à-tête concert at night.
The opera yield its delight;
Catalani may charm me, but oh! far more sweet,
The musical voice of Laurette when we meet
In tête-à-tête concert at night.
False looks of denial in vain would she fling,
In vain to some corner be gone;
And if in our kisses I snatch off her ring,
It is, to my fancy, a much better thing
Than a kiss after putting one on!
In vain to some corner be gone;
And if in our kisses I snatch off her ring,
It is, to my fancy, a much better thing
Than a kiss after putting one on!
42
ODE X. TRIBUTARY STANZAS to GRIMALDI THE CLOWN.
Mercuri facunde, nepos Atlantis.
Facetious mime! thou enemy of gloom,
Grandson of Momus, blithe and debonnair,
Who, aping Pan, with an inverted broom,
Can'st brush the cobwebs from the brows of care.
Grandson of Momus, blithe and debonnair,
Who, aping Pan, with an inverted broom,
Can'st brush the cobwebs from the brows of care.
Our gallery Gods immortalize thy song;
Thy Newgate thefts impart ecstatic pleasure;
Thou bid'st a jew's-harp charm a Christian throng,
A Gothic salt-box teem with attic treasure.
Thy Newgate thefts impart ecstatic pleasure;
Thou bid'st a jew's-harp charm a Christian throng,
A Gothic salt-box teem with attic treasure.
When harlequin, his charmer to regain,
Courts her embrace in many a queer disguise,
The light of heels looks for his sword in vain;
Thy furtive fingers snatch the magic prize.
Courts her embrace in many a queer disguise,
The light of heels looks for his sword in vain;
Thy furtive fingers snatch the magic prize.
43
The fabled egg from thee obtains its gold;
Thou set'st the mind from critic bondage loose,
Where male and female cacklers, young and old,
Birds of a feather, hail the sacred Goose.
Thou set'st the mind from critic bondage loose,
Where male and female cacklers, young and old,
Birds of a feather, hail the sacred Goose.
Even pious souls, from Bunyan's durance free,
At Sadlers Wells applaud thy agile wit,
Forget old Care while they remember thee,
“Laugh the heart's laugh,” and haunt the jovial pit.
At Sadlers Wells applaud thy agile wit,
Forget old Care while they remember thee,
“Laugh the heart's laugh,” and haunt the jovial pit.
Long may'st thou guard the prize thy humour won,
Long hold thy court in pantomimic state,
And to the equipoise of English fun,
Exalt the lowly, and bring down the great.
Long hold thy court in pantomimic state,
And to the equipoise of English fun,
Exalt the lowly, and bring down the great.
44
ODE XI. FORTUNE TELLING.
To Laura.
Tu ne quæsieris scire (nefas) quem mihi, quem tibi.
Dear girl, from cabalistic lore,
Seek not your fortunes to explore,
Or find your destin'd lover:
Nor horoscopes, nor starry skies,
Nor flattering gypsey prophecies,
Can e'er your fate discover.
Seek not your fortunes to explore,
Or find your destin'd lover:
Nor horoscopes, nor starry skies,
Nor flattering gypsey prophecies,
Can e'er your fate discover.
To Fortune's dreaded power resign'd,
Endure with philosophic mind,
Her favour or her malice:
Unmindful of your future doom,
Of present life enjoy the bloom,
And quaff from Pleasure's chalice.
Endure with philosophic mind,
Her favour or her malice:
Unmindful of your future doom,
Of present life enjoy the bloom,
And quaff from Pleasure's chalice.
45
To-day the sunny hours dance by,
Dispensing roses as they fly:
O snatch them! for to-morrow,
Assail'd by tempests, drooping, dead,
Perchance their flowers may only shed,
The dewy tears of sorrow.
Dispensing roses as they fly:
O snatch them! for to-morrow,
Assail'd by tempests, drooping, dead,
Perchance their flowers may only shed,
The dewy tears of sorrow.
Time flies—Death threatens to destroy—
The wise condense life's scatter'd joy
Within a narrow measure:
Then, Laura, bring the sparkling bowl,
And let us yield the raptur'd soul,
To laughter, love, and pleasure.
The wise condense life's scatter'd joy
Within a narrow measure:
Then, Laura, bring the sparkling bowl,
And let us yield the raptur'd soul,
To laughter, love, and pleasure.
46
ODE XII. To Emanuel Swedenborg.
Quem virum, aut heroa, lyrâ vel acri.
What mortal, or immortal wight,
Man, dæmon, demigod, or sprite,
My harp, shall break thy slumbers?
Whom Echo o'er Bœotia's hill,
And Aganippe's shady rill,
Shall chaunt in sportive numbers?
Man, dæmon, demigod, or sprite,
My harp, shall break thy slumbers?
Whom Echo o'er Bœotia's hill,
And Aganippe's shady rill,
Shall chaunt in sportive numbers?
Mine be the strain that Orpheus pour'd,
When Hell's grim monarch he implor'd
Euridice to render:
And listening Pluto spar'd his life,
But nearly gave him back his wife,
To punish the offender.
When Hell's grim monarch he implor'd
Euridice to render:
And listening Pluto spar'd his life,
But nearly gave him back his wife,
To punish the offender.
47
If songs could bid the dead arise,
Whom should I sooner eulogize,
Than Swedenborg the pious?
To whom the mystic world was shown,
Of spirits that to us unknown,
Are ever skipping nigh us.
Whom should I sooner eulogize,
Than Swedenborg the pious?
To whom the mystic world was shown,
Of spirits that to us unknown,
Are ever skipping nigh us.
None can surpass this ghostly seer,
Who smoak'd his pipe, or quaff'd his beer
Above with his protectors;
None equal, second none to him,
Who pour'd upon our optics dim
A cataract of spectres.
Who smoak'd his pipe, or quaff'd his beer
Above with his protectors;
None equal, second none to him,
Who pour'd upon our optics dim
A cataract of spectres.
Next Lewis, Goose's child, shall come,
With Mother Bunch's Fee-fa-fum!
In goblin tales to revel—
The maid who dragg'd the Monk to hell,
The bleeding Nun that ran pell-mell
With Raymond to the devil.
With Mother Bunch's Fee-fa-fum!
In goblin tales to revel—
The maid who dragg'd the Monk to hell,
The bleeding Nun that ran pell-mell
With Raymond to the devil.
48
Successive now my subject boasts,
The noted Hammersmith twin ghosts,
Who rivall'd one another;
One born to frighten rustics—one
To perish by a rustic's gun,
Who took him for his brother .
The noted Hammersmith twin ghosts,
Who rivall'd one another;
One born to frighten rustics—one
To perish by a rustic's gun,
Who took him for his brother .
Soon as he fell, the tumult o'er,
The gloom was clear'd, their fears no more,
The gossip tales were ended;
And he that frighten'd all around,
(So will'd the Fates) upon the ground
Innocuous lay extended.
The gloom was clear'd, their fears no more,
The gossip tales were ended;
And he that frighten'd all around,
(So will'd the Fates) upon the ground
Innocuous lay extended.
49
Who shall the mighty theme prolong?
O Clio, patroness of song,
Say, what successor fit is,
Whether Giles Scroggins next should come,
Miss Bailey, or old Gaffer Thumb,
Who sang their own sad ditties.
O Clio, patroness of song,
Say, what successor fit is,
Whether Giles Scroggins next should come,
Miss Bailey, or old Gaffer Thumb,
Who sang their own sad ditties.
To louder Pæans swell the chord,
Worthy the Bird-beholding Lord,
So prodigal of fable;
Who told us of the hunter sprite,
That flogg'd itself the live long night,
Then gallopp'd from the stable .
Worthy the Bird-beholding Lord,
So prodigal of fable;
Who told us of the hunter sprite,
That flogg'd itself the live long night,
Then gallopp'd from the stable .
An uncomb'd girl surpass'd the peer,
Offspring of poverty severe,
In garret dark residing;
She gave to life the Cock Lane Ghost,
A nation's eyes and ears engross'd,
E'en Johnson's skill deriding.
Offspring of poverty severe,
In garret dark residing;
She gave to life the Cock Lane Ghost,
A nation's eyes and ears engross'd,
E'en Johnson's skill deriding.
50
Old Scratch (if parsons tell us true,)
With her found board and lodging too,
And help'd her pranks to hide well;
'Till magistrates and bishops drove
This modern Joan to shine above
The minor cheats of Bridewell.
With her found board and lodging too,
And help'd her pranks to hide well;
'Till magistrates and bishops drove
This modern Joan to shine above
The minor cheats of Bridewell.
O Swedenborg, the guardian friend
Of ghostly wights, our prayers attend,
And prosper Colton's glory:
Exalted let his genius shine,
Second, great seer, alone to thine
In spiritual story.
Of ghostly wights, our prayers attend,
And prosper Colton's glory:
Exalted let his genius shine,
Second, great seer, alone to thine
In spiritual story.
51
Whether the Sampford Ghost to seek,
He bid the rustics swear in Greek,
Chave's servant, wife, and Talley;
Or whether, in the dead of night,
The doors and windows fasten'd tight,
He goes to dodge with Sally.
He bid the rustics swear in Greek,
Chave's servant, wife, and Talley;
Or whether, in the dead of night,
The doors and windows fasten'd tight,
He goes to dodge with Sally.
52
E'en Mr. Moon no light could shed,
To tell who 'twas that shook the bed,
And carried such a farce on,—
A ghost no doubt it was, for no man
Would thump and kick a silly woman,
To fright a sillier parson.
To tell who 'twas that shook the bed,
And carried such a farce on,—
A ghost no doubt it was, for no man
Would thump and kick a silly woman,
To fright a sillier parson.
53
O Swedenborg, thy fame is lost,
Colton has verified his ghost,
By wagering a guinea:
In vengeance thou thy wig shalt shake,
And make the Taunton Courier quake,
For proving him a ninny.
Colton has verified his ghost,
By wagering a guinea:
In vengeance thou thy wig shalt shake,
And make the Taunton Courier quake,
For proving him a ninny.
A Hammersmith wag some time ago dressed himself as a ghost, and was very successful in frightening the watchmen, and other old women, until he was obliged to give up the ghost in a very unexpected manner. A wiseacre in the neighbourhoood, forgetting that if it were a real ghost he would be only throwing away his powder, if a sham one his life, was infatuated enough to fire at and kill the unfortunate spectre, for which he was capitally indicted, and we believe condemned to death, but afterwards pardoned.
Our readers cannot have altogether forgotten the Sampford ghost, whose spirituality the Rev. Mr. Colton offered to prove by a wager, having previously received the depositions of Messrs. Chave, Dodge, Moon, and Miss Sally, who were sworn upon a Greek Testament. The Taunton Courier commented with a good deal of sarcastic pleasantry upon the evidence adduced; but the unearthly visitor was not to be exorcised by newspaper criticisms, and redoubled his formidable thumpings and bumpings. His comical freaks have lately produced very tragical consequences; the Exeter jailor, a man remarkable for strength and courage, volunteered to discover the juggle, and to pass a night in the haunted chamber. Armed with a sword and bible, and illuminated by two large mould candles, (three to the pound,) he took his station, when at the “very witching time of night,” the sword was violently wrenched from his hand, and the spectre served out to him a specimen of Molyneux's right and left hits that would not have disgraced the sable hero himself. All this while the assailant was invisible, and “the steel'd jailor, seldom the friend of man,” was still less the friend of goblins; he was carried home in a sort of stupor, and expired a few days after.—Upon another occasion, when the knockings under the floor were very loud and lively, an incredulous rustic took up one of the boards, and stood between the rafters, when the sounds instantly ceased; “O, ho!” quoth he, “have I found you out? I always said it was a lame story.”—But his triumph was short; he was saluted with such a thump on the sole of the foot, that he had a lame story of his own to carry home to his family, and the knockings increased, as if resolved to eclipse the noise of Don Quixote's fulling mills. It is not long since an honest neighbour called on Mr. C. to laugh at his credulity, and reason him, if possible, out of what he called his nervous delusions, when lo! in the midst of their conversation a heavy step was heard descending the stairs; “That is the ghost's step,” said Mr C. drawing his chair close to his visitor. Thump! thump! thump! The door opens, footsteps are heard loud as of the ghost in Don Juan, though nought is visible; they seem to pass between the chairs, though touching each other; the sceptic and his friend are unmolested, but the object of this unwelcome visit is soon manifested. Sally, or Molly, was at the side board; they hear blows and screams, and when they had courage to approach the poor girl they found she had been piteously belaboured about the shoulders, after which usual exercise of his spleen, perhaps to create an appetite, the hobgoblin, “started like a guilty thing,” and fled.
The female sex engrosses the chief share of his pugilistic devoirs, for which he has satisfactorily accounted in replying to questions solemnly put to him both in Greek and Hebrew, (which he has at his finger's ends) by divulging that he was murdered by his sister, and will continue to persecute the sex until the offender is brought to condign punishment. Men he never molests, unless in self defence, and upon an invasion of his territory. Man traps have been set in the room for the purpose of catching his ghostly leg, and rat traps have been lavishly distributed over the bed, in the hope of snapping his spiritual fingers; but he snaps his fingers at his enemies, and understands trap too well to be caught by any human contrivance hitherto discovered. When rat traps fail, exorcising can hardly be expected to succeed, and he likes his present quarters too well to wish to be billetted upon the Red Sea.
Thus stands the case at present; the ghost has baffled every attempt at an ejectment, and will probably continue to frighten the men and belabour the women till he wear out his knuckles. Mr. Colton has recently been to London, to require the aid of the ecclesiastical police, and has offered to frank down to Sampford any adventurer who will enter the lists with this airy bruiser, and fib him out of the ring. But this is idle; if fibbing would do he would have vanished long since.
55
ODE XIII. THE JEALOUS LOVER.
Cum tu, Lydia, Telephi.
When those eyes, in azure splendour,
Sparkle at a rival's fame;
When those lips, in accents tender,
Breathe a hated rival's name;
Sparkle at a rival's fame;
When those lips, in accents tender,
Breathe a hated rival's name;
Rous'd to scorn, or sunk in sadness,
Passion rules without controul,
Gloomy rage and jealous madness,
Gnaw my heart and fire my soul.
Passion rules without controul,
Gloomy rage and jealous madness,
Gnaw my heart and fire my soul.
Tears that fall in copious showers,
Inward fires too plainly speak;
Reason mourns her faded powers,
Blushes tinge my conscious cheek.
Inward fires too plainly speak;
Reason mourns her faded powers,
Blushes tinge my conscious cheek.
56
When in dreams thy beauty's brightness
Seems to aid my rival's bliss,
And his lip thy bosom's whiteness
Seems to sully with a kiss;
Seems to aid my rival's bliss,
And his lip thy bosom's whiteness
Seems to sully with a kiss;
“Hold,” I cry in passion's fever,
“Flames like his are born of wine;
“Spurn the insolent deceiver,
“Crush his hopes, and nourish mine.
“Flames like his are born of wine;
“Spurn the insolent deceiver,
“Crush his hopes, and nourish mine.
“Loosely he thy soul despises,
“Aiming but thy charms to win;
“He the glittering casket prizes,
“I adore the gem within.”
“Aiming but thy charms to win;
“He the glittering casket prizes,
“I adore the gem within.”
Lawless love's a wand'ring vapour,
Meteor of a heated brain;
Happy they who Cupid's taper
Light at sacred Hymen's fane.
Meteor of a heated brain;
Happy they who Cupid's taper
Light at sacred Hymen's fane.
Ever joyous, never sated,
As through life their course they steer,
Heavenly bliss is antedated,—
Mutual love can find it here.
As through life their course they steer,
Heavenly bliss is antedated,—
Mutual love can find it here.
57
ODE XIV. To Mr. KEMBLE,
Exhorting him to give up the tier of Private Boxes.
O navis, referent in mare te novi.
O Kemble, again you are tost on the seas;
For mercy's sake what are you doing?
Return into harbour, assuage the O. P.s,
This tempest may end in your ruin.
For mercy's sake what are you doing?
Return into harbour, assuage the O. P.s,
This tempest may end in your ruin.
Your seams are uncaulk'd, and your mainmast is split,
Your sailors are all in commotion;
The storm of last winter still howls in the pit,
And vexes the bosom of ocean.
Your sailors are all in commotion;
The storm of last winter still howls in the pit,
And vexes the bosom of ocean.
'Tis all to no purpose the gods to assail,
They will not afford you a cable;
Dame Fashion, who tempted you out in the gale,
May tow you to land if she's able.
They will not afford you a cable;
Dame Fashion, who tempted you out in the gale,
May tow you to land if she's able.
58
Melpomene launch'd you a gallant first rate,
She seems at your danger to shudder;
Then give up your gingerbread cabin of state,
And prudently look to your rudder.
She seems at your danger to shudder;
Then give up your gingerbread cabin of state,
And prudently look to your rudder.
'Tis matter of lasting importance to me,
Again in smooth water to find you;
For certain I am, if you founder at sea,
You'll not leave your equal behind you.
Again in smooth water to find you;
For certain I am, if you founder at sea,
You'll not leave your equal behind you.
59
ODE XV. THE PARTHENON.
On the Dilapidation of the Temple of Minerva at Athens.
Pastor quum traheret per freta navibus.
As Elgin o'er the violated wave,
Spoil'd Parthenon, thy marble glories bore,
While modern Greeks, alas! too weak to save,
With silent tears his sacrilege deplore,
Shriek in their tombs the demigods of yore,
Heroes and kings their spectred forms uprear,
Start from their sepulchres to throng the shore,
And as they view the ravager's career,
Point to the bounding bark, and poise the shadowy spear.
Spoil'd Parthenon, thy marble glories bore,
While modern Greeks, alas! too weak to save,
With silent tears his sacrilege deplore,
Shriek in their tombs the demigods of yore,
Heroes and kings their spectred forms uprear,
Start from their sepulchres to throng the shore,
And as they view the ravager's career,
Point to the bounding bark, and poise the shadowy spear.
60
On speeds the vessel with her guilty prize,
Till sudden calms arrest her stately sweep;
Hush'd is th'expanse of ocean, earth and skies,
And a new Firmament appears to sleep
In the smooth mirror of the azure deep.
When lo! the wave with sudden splendour glows,
And while the crew a breathless silence keep,
Severe in majesty, Minerva rose,
Frown'd on the startled Scot, and prophesied his woes.
Till sudden calms arrest her stately sweep;
Hush'd is th'expanse of ocean, earth and skies,
And a new Firmament appears to sleep
In the smooth mirror of the azure deep.
When lo! the wave with sudden splendour glows,
And while the crew a breathless silence keep,
Severe in majesty, Minerva rose,
Frown'd on the startled Scot, and prophesied his woes.
“Ruthless destroyer! luckless was the hour
When Athens' Sculptures at thy feet were hurl'd;
Trophies revered, which hitherto had power
To win the homage of an awe-struck world!
Goth, Vandal, Moslem, had their flags unfurl'd
Around my still unviolated Fane,
Two thousand summers had with dews impearl'd
Its marble heights nor left a mouldering stain;
'Twas thine to ruin all that all had spared in vain.
When Athens' Sculptures at thy feet were hurl'd;
Trophies revered, which hitherto had power
To win the homage of an awe-struck world!
Goth, Vandal, Moslem, had their flags unfurl'd
Around my still unviolated Fane,
Two thousand summers had with dews impearl'd
Its marble heights nor left a mouldering stain;
'Twas thine to ruin all that all had spared in vain.
61
“Mine was the Temple, and be mine the care
To haunt it's spoiler, and avenge its doom:
No intellectual honours shalt thou share,
Minerva's curse shall wrap thy mind in gloom,
And Hymen shall thy nuptial hopes consume.—
Unless like fond Pygmalion thou canst wed
Statues thy hand could never give to bloom,
In wifeless wedlock shall thy life be led,
No marriage joys to bless thy solitary bed.
To haunt it's spoiler, and avenge its doom:
No intellectual honours shalt thou share,
Minerva's curse shall wrap thy mind in gloom,
And Hymen shall thy nuptial hopes consume.—
Unless like fond Pygmalion thou canst wed
Statues thy hand could never give to bloom,
In wifeless wedlock shall thy life be led,
No marriage joys to bless thy solitary bed.
“The Grecian Deities already rush
To smite th'insulter of their native seat;
Venus for ever bars the modest blush,
Love's chaste alarms and its endearments sweet.
Mars shall deny the Hero's patriot heat,
Nor can thy ravish'd trophies yield relief;
The household Gods shall frown on thy retreat,
And when thou seekst to drown reflection's grief,
Bacchus shall interdict oblivion's respite brief.
To smite th'insulter of their native seat;
Venus for ever bars the modest blush,
Love's chaste alarms and its endearments sweet.
Mars shall deny the Hero's patriot heat,
Nor can thy ravish'd trophies yield relief;
The household Gods shall frown on thy retreat,
And when thou seekst to drown reflection's grief,
Bacchus shall interdict oblivion's respite brief.
62
“Lo! Ocean's King engulphs thy victim bark
,
Snatching the relics of his earthly reign
To deck his coral palaces, and hark!
The sea nymphs sound their shells as they regain
The shipwreck'd trophies of their monarch's fane.
So shouldst thou perish with thy guilty freight,
But that thy life shall be thy greatest bane,
And Athens' Gods by thy forewarning fate
Shall stay th'unhallow'd hand uprear'd to violate.
Snatching the relics of his earthly reign
To deck his coral palaces, and hark!
The sea nymphs sound their shells as they regain
The shipwreck'd trophies of their monarch's fane.
So shouldst thou perish with thy guilty freight,
But that thy life shall be thy greatest bane,
And Athens' Gods by thy forewarning fate
Shall stay th'unhallow'd hand uprear'd to violate.
“All who behold my mutilated pile
Shall brand its ravager with classic rage,
And soon a titled bard from Britain's Isle,
Thy country's praise and suffrage shall engage,
And fire with Athen's wrongs an angry age.
Poets unborn shall sing thy impious fame,
And time from history's eternal page
Expunging Alaric's and Omar's name,
Shall give to thine alone pre-eminence of shame.”
Shall brand its ravager with classic rage,
And soon a titled bard from Britain's Isle,
Thy country's praise and suffrage shall engage,
And fire with Athen's wrongs an angry age.
Poets unborn shall sing thy impious fame,
And time from history's eternal page
Expunging Alaric's and Omar's name,
Shall give to thine alone pre-eminence of shame.”
63
ODE XVI. The EDINBURGH REVIEWERS.
O Matre pulcra filia pulchrior.
O rigorous sons of a clime more severe
If Horace in London offend,
Unbought let him perish, unread disappear,
But, ah! do not hasten his end.
If Horace in London offend,
Unbought let him perish, unread disappear,
But, ah! do not hasten his end.
Not whisker'd Geramb who veracity braves
In boasting of princely delights,
Not Rowland, when thumping the cushion he raves,
Of Beelzebub's capering sprites,
In boasting of princely delights,
Not Rowland, when thumping the cushion he raves,
Of Beelzebub's capering sprites,
Are mad as the Martyr inviting the whips
Of poesy's merciless reign;
Who like Mrs. Brownrigg her 'prentices strips,
Then kills them with famine and pain.
Of poesy's merciless reign;
Who like Mrs. Brownrigg her 'prentices strips,
Then kills them with famine and pain.
64
'Tis said when the box of Pandora flew ope,
A treasure was found underneath:
It seem'd to the vulgar a figure of Hope,
To poets a laureat wreath.
A treasure was found underneath:
It seem'd to the vulgar a figure of Hope,
To poets a laureat wreath.
'Twas this ignis fatuus tempting to roam,
That lighted poor Burns to his fate;
That bade him abandon his plough and his home
To starve amid cities and state.
That lighted poor Burns to his fate;
That bade him abandon his plough and his home
To starve amid cities and state.
Me, too, has the treacherous phantom inspir'd
In moments of youthful delight;
With lyric presumption my bosom has fir'd,
To imitate Horace's might.
In moments of youthful delight;
With lyric presumption my bosom has fir'd,
To imitate Horace's might.
Repentant, henceforth, I will write like a dunce
In prose all the rest of my life,
If you, dread dissectors, will spare me this once
The smart of your critical knife.
In prose all the rest of my life,
If you, dread dissectors, will spare me this once
The smart of your critical knife.
65
ODE XVII. THE WELCH COTTAGE.
Velox amænum sæpe Lucretilem.
To Laura.
The wood nymphs crown'd with vernal flow'rs,
Who roam thro' Tempe's classic bow'rs
And sport in gambols antic;
If e'er they quit their native vales,
Will find around my cot in Wales,
A region more romantic.
Who roam thro' Tempe's classic bow'rs
And sport in gambols antic;
If e'er they quit their native vales,
Will find around my cot in Wales,
A region more romantic.
Green pastures girt with pendant rock,
Along whose steep my snowy flock,
Adventurously wanders;
Impending shrubs and flowers that gleam,
Reflected in the chrystal stream,
Which thro' the scene meanders;
Along whose steep my snowy flock,
Adventurously wanders;
Impending shrubs and flowers that gleam,
Reflected in the chrystal stream,
Which thro' the scene meanders;
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In sylvan beauty charm the eyes,
While no ungracious sounds arise
Of misery or anger;
The song of birds, the insect's hum
Are never broken by the drum,
Or trumpet's brazen clangor.
While no ungracious sounds arise
Of misery or anger;
The song of birds, the insect's hum
Are never broken by the drum,
Or trumpet's brazen clangor.
If sleeping echo starts to mark
The matin carols of the lark,
Or sounds of early labour;
Again she seeks her calm retreat,
Till evening calls her to repeat,
The shepherd's pipe and tabor.
The matin carols of the lark,
Or sounds of early labour;
Again she seeks her calm retreat,
Till evening calls her to repeat,
The shepherd's pipe and tabor.
Whene'er I woo the muse serene,
Her magic smile illumes the scene,
And brighter tints discloses.
But e'en the muses' chaplet fades,
Unless the hand of Cupid braids
Her myrtle with his roses.
Her magic smile illumes the scene,
And brighter tints discloses.
But e'en the muses' chaplet fades,
Unless the hand of Cupid braids
Her myrtle with his roses.
Haste then, my Laura, to my bower,
And let us give the fleeting hour
To plenty, love, and pleasure:
Where wanton boughs an arbour wreathe
I to thy melting harp will breathe
My amatory measure.
And let us give the fleeting hour
To plenty, love, and pleasure:
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I to thy melting harp will breathe
My amatory measure.
Let not the town your soul enthral,
The crouded rout and midnight ball,
Those penalties of fashion:
If nature still have power to please,
Oh! hither fly to health and ease,
And crown a poet's passion.
The crouded rout and midnight ball,
Those penalties of fashion:
If nature still have power to please,
Oh! hither fly to health and ease,
And crown a poet's passion.
No jealous fears shall curb your mind,
Here shall no spirit be confin'd
By prejudiced opinion.
My Laura here a Queen shall be,
From all control and bondage free,
Save Cupid's soft dominion.
Here shall no spirit be confin'd
By prejudiced opinion.
My Laura here a Queen shall be,
From all control and bondage free,
Save Cupid's soft dominion.
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ODE XVIII. MERRY AND WISE.
Nullam, Vare, sacrâ vite prius severis arborem.
To Lord Wellington.
O let not your tumbrils in Portugal's vallies
Empurple the dust with the blood of the vine,
But spare it that we in convivial sallies,
May bumper thy prowess in goblets of wine.
Empurple the dust with the blood of the vine,
But spare it that we in convivial sallies,
May bumper thy prowess in goblets of wine.
Embolden'd by Bacchus we vault o'er the rav'lin,
Or snatch, rosy Venus, thy Paphian prize,
Now led by the gleam of the Gaul's flashing jav'lin,
And now by the blaze of voluptuous eyes.
Or snatch, rosy Venus, thy Paphian prize,
Now led by the gleam of the Gaul's flashing jav'lin,
And now by the blaze of voluptuous eyes.
But though the god's banner unfurling its flushes,
With crimson suffuses his votaries' cheeks,
O let us not tinge them with penitent blushes,
By arrogant insults or perilous freaks.
With crimson suffuses his votaries' cheeks,
O let us not tinge them with penitent blushes,
By arrogant insults or perilous freaks.
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Invited by Theseus in good humoured clatter,
The Centaurs assembled, half man and half beast,
How quickly the former was lost in the latter,
When lewd inebriety darken'd the feast!
The Centaurs assembled, half man and half beast,
How quickly the former was lost in the latter,
When lewd inebriety darken'd the feast!
Reflect that the laws of punctilio are cruel,
And oft to the flash of ungovern'd excess,
Succeeds the chill awe of the death-dealing duel,
The flash of the pistol—the pang of distress!
And oft to the flash of ungovern'd excess,
Succeeds the chill awe of the death-dealing duel,
The flash of the pistol—the pang of distress!
No, care-killing god, though I revel in gladness,
And brim the gay goblet with sparkling champagne,
I'll not stain thy altar with victims of madness,
Nor sacrifice reason to lengthen thy reign.
And brim the gay goblet with sparkling champagne,
I'll not stain thy altar with victims of madness,
Nor sacrifice reason to lengthen thy reign.
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ODE XIX. PLEASING PETULANCE.
Mater sæva Cupidinum.
Dame Venus, who lives but to vex,
And Bacchus, the dealer in wine,
Unite with the love of the sex,
To harrass this poor head of mine.
Sweet Ellen's the cause of my woe,
'Tis madness her charms to behold,
Her bosom's as white as the snow,
And the heart it enshrines is as cold.
And Bacchus, the dealer in wine,
Unite with the love of the sex,
To harrass this poor head of mine.
Sweet Ellen's the cause of my woe,
'Tis madness her charms to behold,
Her bosom's as white as the snow,
And the heart it enshrines is as cold.
Her petulant frowns have more grace
Than others to smiles can impart;
The roses that bloom in her face
Have planted their thorns in my heart.
Fair Venus, who sprang from the sea,
Despising the haunts of renown,
Leaves Brighton, to frolic with me,
And spend the whole winter in town.
Than others to smiles can impart;
The roses that bloom in her face
Have planted their thorns in my heart.
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Despising the haunts of renown,
Leaves Brighton, to frolic with me,
And spend the whole winter in town.
I sang of the heroes of Spain,
Who fight in the Parthian mode;
The goddess grew sick at my strain,
And handed to Vulcan my ode:
“Forbear,” she exclaim'd, “silly elf,
“With haughty Bellona to rove,
“Leave Spain to take care of herself,—
“Thy song is of Ellen and love.”
Who fight in the Parthian mode;
The goddess grew sick at my strain,
And handed to Vulcan my ode:
“Forbear,” she exclaim'd, “silly elf,
“With haughty Bellona to rove,
“Leave Spain to take care of herself,—
“Thy song is of Ellen and love.”
Come, Love, bring the Graces along,
That Ellen may melt at my woes,
Let fluent Rousseau gild my tongue,
And Chesterfield turn out my toes.
Ah no! I must wield other arms,
Sweet Ellen, to reign in thy heart,
When Love owes to Nature his charms,
How vain are the lessons of art.
That Ellen may melt at my woes,
Let fluent Rousseau gild my tongue,
And Chesterfield turn out my toes.
Ah no! I must wield other arms,
Sweet Ellen, to reign in thy heart,
When Love owes to Nature his charms,
How vain are the lessons of art.
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ODE XX. THE BARD'S BANQUET.
Vile potabis modicis Sabinum.
To George Colman the Younger.
Accept, comic mortal, this poor imitation;
Its birth was propitious tho' humble its claim;
'Twas penn'd when the Theatres' loud acclamation
Established for ever your title to Fame.
Its birth was propitious tho' humble its claim;
'Twas penn'd when the Theatres' loud acclamation
Established for ever your title to Fame.
When London re-echos the praise of Colman,
Shall I by my Harp in despondency sit?
No—Horace in London shall not be the sole man
Withholding his tribute from genius and wit.
Shall I by my Harp in despondency sit?
No—Horace in London shall not be the sole man
Withholding his tribute from genius and wit.
Then come to my banquet, 'tis lowly I know it,
And no pungent relish the appetite lures,
For what can a dull inexperienced poet,
Produce that will tickle a palate like yours?
And no pungent relish the appetite lures,
For what can a dull inexperienced poet,
Produce that will tickle a palate like yours?
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But as to my guests, they shall feast upon treasures
Sufficient to charm the most epicure elf;
My long bill of fare is a budget of pleasures,
Comprised in one exquisite item—yourself.
Sufficient to charm the most epicure elf;
My long bill of fare is a budget of pleasures,
Comprised in one exquisite item—yourself.
74
ODE XXII. THE BAILIFF.
Integer vitæ, scelerisque purus.
The pauper poet, pure in zeal,
Who aims the Muse's crown to steal,
Need steal no crown of baser sort,
To buy a goose, or pay for port.
He needs not Fortune's poison'd source,
Nor guard the House of Commons yields,
Whether by Newgate lie his course,
The Fleet, King's Bench, or Cold Bath Fields.
For I, whom late, impransus, walking,
The Muse beyond the verge had led;
Beheld a huge bumbailiff stalking,
Who star'd, but touch'd me not, and fled!
A bailiff, black and big like him,
So scowling, desperate, and grim,
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Of all the tribe shall breed again.
Place me beyond the verge afar,
Where alleys blind the light debar,
Or bid me fascinated lie
Beneath the creeping catchpole's eye;
Place me where spunging houses round
Attest that bail is never found;
Where poets starve who write for bread,
And writs are more than poems read;
Still will I quaff the Muse's spring,
In reason's spite a rhyming sinner,
I'll sometimes for a supper sing,
And sometimes whistle for a dinner.
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ODE XXIII. CUPID'S INVITATION.
Vitas hinnuleo me similis, Chloe,
As the poet doom'd to linger,
Phillips, in thy shop's retreat,
Cash for copyright to finger,
Eyes with dread the neighbouring Fleet,
Phillips, in thy shop's retreat,
Cash for copyright to finger,
Eyes with dread the neighbouring Fleet,
Turns with idle terror pale, if
Busy crowds his speed molest,
Thinks each passenger a bailiff,
Every jostle an arrest;
Busy crowds his speed molest,
Thinks each passenger a bailiff,
Every jostle an arrest;
Thus, dear Chlöe, thus you fly me,
Prithee bid these fears adieu;
How ungenerous to deny me
What I ne'er denied to you.
Prithee bid these fears adieu;
How ungenerous to deny me
What I ne'er denied to you.
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I'm no ruthless Blue Beard, daily
Killing wives, again to wed;
I'm no giant Mrs. Bayley,
Grinding bones to make my bread.
Killing wives, again to wed;
I'm no giant Mrs. Bayley,
Grinding bones to make my bread.
Love at eighteen is a duty,
Yield thee, sweet, to Cupid's chain;
To confine a full-grown beauty,
Mother's apron strings are vain!
Yield thee, sweet, to Cupid's chain;
To confine a full-grown beauty,
Mother's apron strings are vain!
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ODE XXIV. HORNE TOOKE's EPITAPH.
Quis desiderio sit pudor aut modus.
What strain shall soothe thy shade, departed Tooke?
What topic glad Reform's heart-broken throng?
Muse of dead Hammond, muse of dead Sir Brook,
Pour the full tide of elegiac song.
What topic glad Reform's heart-broken throng?
Muse of dead Hammond, muse of dead Sir Brook,
Pour the full tide of elegiac song.
Beneath a garden's mould (O spot uncouth!)
Death in perpetual slumber rocks the sage,
Saviour of syntax, speaker of home truth,
Pride, shame, and martyr of a thankless age.
Death in perpetual slumber rocks the sage,
Saviour of syntax, speaker of home truth,
Pride, shame, and martyr of a thankless age.
Gale Jones and Jones Burdett deplor'd his fall,
But thine, dear knight, is sorrow's heaviest shower;
Who now shall tinge thy scatter'd ink with gall?
Who prompt thy studies in a second Tower?
But thine, dear knight, is sorrow's heaviest shower;
Who now shall tinge thy scatter'd ink with gall?
Who prompt thy studies in a second Tower?
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Of Swedenborg thou ne'er hast learnt the tricks,
Whose magic wand the dead from death retrieves;
Thy seer close guarded on the shores of Styx,
Swells the black cattle of the God of Thieves.
Whose magic wand the dead from death retrieves;
Thy seer close guarded on the shores of Styx,
Swells the black cattle of the God of Thieves.
'Tis hard—but watching for the human soul,
Troops of blue devils hover o'er the globe;
Trick them, and quaff from resignation's bowl
What Job's kind hearted friends prescrib'd to Job.
Troops of blue devils hover o'er the globe;
Trick them, and quaff from resignation's bowl
What Job's kind hearted friends prescrib'd to Job.
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ODE XXV. MY GODWIN!
Parcius junctas quatiunt fenestras.
Our Temple youth, a lawless train,
Blockading Johnson's window pane,
No longer land thy solemn strain,
My Godwin!
Chaucer's a mighty tedious elf,
Fleetwood lives only for himself,
And Caleb Williams loves the shelf,
My Godwin!
Blockading Johnson's window pane,
No longer land thy solemn strain,
My Godwin!
Chaucer's a mighty tedious elf,
Fleetwood lives only for himself,
And Caleb Williams loves the shelf,
My Godwin!
No longer cry the sprites unblest,
“Awake! arise! stand forth confess'd!”
For fallen, fallen is thy crest,
My Godwin!
Thy muse for meretricious feats,
Does quarto penance now in sheets,
Or cloathing parcels roams the streets,
My Godwin!
“Awake! arise! stand forth confess'd!”
For fallen, fallen is thy crest,
My Godwin!
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Does quarto penance now in sheets,
Or cloathing parcels roams the streets,
My Godwin!
Thy flame at Luna's lamp thou light'st,
Blank is the verse that thou indit'st,
Thy play is damn'd, yet still thou writ'st,
My Godwin!
And still to wield the grey goose quill,
When Phœbus sinks, to feel no chill,
“With me is to be lovely still,”
My Godwin!
Blank is the verse that thou indit'st,
Thy play is damn'd, yet still thou writ'st,
My Godwin!
And still to wield the grey goose quill,
When Phœbus sinks, to feel no chill,
“With me is to be lovely still,”
My Godwin!
Thy winged steed (a bit of blood)
Bore thee, like Trunnion, through the flood,
To leave thee sprawling in the mud,
My Godwin!
But carries now, with martial trot,
In glittering armour, Walter Scott,
A poet he—which thou art not,
My Godwin!
Bore thee, like Trunnion, through the flood,
To leave thee sprawling in the mud,
My Godwin!
But carries now, with martial trot,
In glittering armour, Walter Scott,
A poet he—which thou art not,
My Godwin!
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Nay, nay, forbear these jealous wails,
Tho' he's upborne on fashion's gales,
Thy heavy bark attendant sails,
My Godwin!
Fate each by different streams conveys
His skiff in Aganippe plays,
And thine in Lethe's whirlpool strays,
My Godwin!
Tho' he's upborne on fashion's gales,
Thy heavy bark attendant sails,
My Godwin!
Fate each by different streams conveys
His skiff in Aganippe plays,
And thine in Lethe's whirlpool strays,
My Godwin!
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ODE XXVI. THE STRAW BONNET.
Musis amicus, tristitiam et metus.
Belov'd by the Nine, I leave care till to-morrow,
And cull pleasure's roses while yet in their bloom;
The winds that blow round me shall dissipate sorrow,
And bear the blue devils to Pharoah's red tomb.
And cull pleasure's roses while yet in their bloom;
The winds that blow round me shall dissipate sorrow,
And bear the blue devils to Pharoah's red tomb.
Thy Emperor, Gaul, may astonish the nations,
While Neptune forbids him to Britain to roam,
He's free to sow discord in German plantations,
Then marry, the better to reap it at home.
While Neptune forbids him to Britain to roam,
He's free to sow discord in German plantations,
Then marry, the better to reap it at home.
Ye Muses, who bathe in clear fountains, and dwell in
The regions of rhyme with Apollo above,
Oh! aid me to sing of my favourite Ellen,
And warble in chorus the accents of love.
The regions of rhyme with Apollo above,
Oh! aid me to sing of my favourite Ellen,
And warble in chorus the accents of love.
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Come, weave me a chaplet to deck her straw bonnet,
Tho' small the applause that your labour secures;
For sure, if there's faith in my sight or my sonnet,
Her roses and lilies are brighter than your's.
Tho' small the applause that your labour secures;
For sure, if there's faith in my sight or my sonnet,
Her roses and lilies are brighter than your's.
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ODE XXVII. THE BUMPER TOAST.
Natis in usum lætitiæ scyphis.
Away with dull politics! prythee let's talk
Of something to set all the club in a titter;
The aim of convivial meetings we baulk,
When thus we our sweetest enjoyments embitter.
Of something to set all the club in a titter;
The aim of convivial meetings we baulk,
When thus we our sweetest enjoyments embitter.
Fill, fill up a bumper, be merry and wise,
And check these dissentions before they too far get;
Say, Colonel, what pretty girl's arrowy eyes
Have chosen your heart for their amorous target.
And check these dissentions before they too far get;
Say, Colonel, what pretty girl's arrowy eyes
Have chosen your heart for their amorous target.
Refuse! then the bottle no farther shall pass:
Nay, hang it, this chilling reserve is a folly;
I'm sure it's no cherry cheek'd nursery lass,
No three per cent. dowdy, no demirep Dolly.
Nay, hang it, this chilling reserve is a folly;
I'm sure it's no cherry cheek'd nursery lass,
No three per cent. dowdy, no demirep Dolly.
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Come, whisper; my ear is as safe as the Bank,
Where all that goes in is for ever impounded.
What, Lucy! adzooks! then your prize is a blank
With imps in blue jackets for life you're surrounded.
Where all that goes in is for ever impounded.
What, Lucy! adzooks! then your prize is a blank
With imps in blue jackets for life you're surrounded.
Mrs. Clarke's costly freaks she will presently beat,
And if you don't quit the extravagant wench,
You'll soon quit the Army to starve in the Fleet,
Or change your own seat for his Majesty's Bench.
And if you don't quit the extravagant wench,
You'll soon quit the Army to starve in the Fleet,
Or change your own seat for his Majesty's Bench.
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ODE XXVIII. LUCRETIUS AND DR. BUSBY.
Te maris et terræ numeroque carentis arence.
Lucretius, tho' thy numbers could embrace,
(Thus Busby spoke) the secret plans of Fate,
Lay bare the haunts of matter, form, and space,
And all creation in thy song create;
(Thus Busby spoke) the secret plans of Fate,
Lay bare the haunts of matter, form, and space,
And all creation in thy song create;
O'er thy dead stanzas now Arachne weaves
Her web to hide thee from a buzzing croud;
Dishonourable dust o'erspreads thy leaves,
And Hermes wraps thee in oblivion's shroud.
Her web to hide thee from a buzzing croud;
Dishonourable dust o'erspreads thy leaves,
And Hermes wraps thee in oblivion's shroud.
To whom, Lucretius—fugitive and fleet,
Religion's dogmas yield to Age's tooth;
Like the loose sand beneath Achilles' feet,
They melt or crumble at the touch of Truth.
Religion's dogmas yield to Age's tooth;
Like the loose sand beneath Achilles' feet,
They melt or crumble at the touch of Truth.
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Each mystic zealot, heavenward points the way,
Heav'n mocks alike the artist and the art:
Where is thy solar system, Tycho Brahe?
Where now thy eddying vortices, Des Cartes?
Heav'n mocks alike the artist and the art:
Where is thy solar system, Tycho Brahe?
Where now thy eddying vortices, Des Cartes?
Some dreaming seers, with angels converse hold,
Some, teiz'd by Satan, Faith's palladium guard.
Paine, Priestley, sleep in transatlantic mould,
And Godwin slumbers in Saint Paul's Church Yard.
Some, teiz'd by Satan, Faith's palladium guard.
Paine, Priestley, sleep in transatlantic mould,
And Godwin slumbers in Saint Paul's Church Yard.
One night o'ershadows systems old and new,
Death to one fatal ferry all consigns,
And not a head amid the sapient crew,
But whispers, tête a tête, with Proserpine's.
Death to one fatal ferry all consigns,
And not a head amid the sapient crew,
But whispers, tête a tête, with Proserpine's.
Me too, death summons to my kindred soil,
Philosophy's new lamp outdazzles mine:
Outdazzles! no, dipp'd in thy midnight oil
My glimmering taper yet again may shine.
Philosophy's new lamp outdazzles mine:
Outdazzles! no, dipp'd in thy midnight oil
My glimmering taper yet again may shine.
Arouse thee, rhymster, bid thy boy rehearse:
And, whilst around thy drowsy audience nod,
Lest the pale urchin mar thy labour'd verse,
Wield o'er his trembling head thy grandsire's rod.
And, whilst around thy drowsy audience nod,
Lest the pale urchin mar thy labour'd verse,
Wield o'er his trembling head thy grandsire's rod.
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So may Apollo in Queen Ann Street West
Full o'er thy muse his warbling choir uncage,
Names fill thy index, Plutus fill thy chest,
And dedication smooth thy hot press'd page.
Full o'er thy muse his warbling choir uncage,
Names fill thy index, Plutus fill thy chest,
And dedication smooth thy hot press'd page.
Hah! doubt'st thou, recreant? does thy lazy wit
To snatch from Lethe's pit my verse refuse?
Then may new Drury's widely yawning pit,
O'erwhelm thy urchin, and engulph thy muse.
To snatch from Lethe's pit my verse refuse?
Then may new Drury's widely yawning pit,
O'erwhelm thy urchin, and engulph thy muse.
That threat prevails, thou sweep'st thy classic chords;
Laud we the Gods! Lucretius now is free;
Come affluent Commoners, come pursy Lords,
Down with your dust, to shake the dust from me.
Laud we the Gods! Lucretius now is free;
Come affluent Commoners, come pursy Lords,
Down with your dust, to shake the dust from me.
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ODE XXIX. The TERMAGANT.
Icci beatis nunc Arabum invides.
To Lucy.
Ah, Lucy, how chang'd are my prospects in life,
Since first you awaken'd love's flame!
So humble a bride, such a petulent wife,
Gadzooks! I scarce think you the same.
Since first you awaken'd love's flame!
So humble a bride, such a petulent wife,
Gadzooks! I scarce think you the same.
That badge which the husband's ascendance secures,
(The poor sans culottes never wore 'em)
You arrogate now as prescriptively yours,
In spite of all sense and decorum.
(The poor sans culottes never wore 'em)
You arrogate now as prescriptively yours,
In spite of all sense and decorum.
No longer your smile like a sunbeam appears,
But clouds your fair visage deform,
Which quickly find vent in a deluge of tears,
Or burst into thunder and storm.
But clouds your fair visage deform,
Which quickly find vent in a deluge of tears,
Or burst into thunder and storm.
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O! who will now question that Venus's dove
Transform'd to a Vulture may feed
On the sensitive heart of the victim of love,
Condemn'd in close fetters to bleed;
Transform'd to a Vulture may feed
On the sensitive heart of the victim of love,
Condemn'd in close fetters to bleed;
Since you whom so lately an angel I thought,
Now acting the termagant's part,
Exult o'er the fetters which wedlock has wrought,
And tear without mercy my heart.
Now acting the termagant's part,
Exult o'er the fetters which wedlock has wrought,
And tear without mercy my heart.
Your temper is changed from serene to perverse,
Your tongue from endearment to clatter:
I took you, for better, as well as for worse,
But find you are wholly the latter.
Your tongue from endearment to clatter:
I took you, for better, as well as for worse,
But find you are wholly the latter.
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ODE XXX. PRIVATE BOXES.
O Venus, regina Cnidi Paphique.
O Venus, Queen of Drury Lane!
Soft partizan of amorous doxies,
Oer 'tall Soho no longer reign,
But patronize our Private Boxes.
Soft partizan of amorous doxies,
Oer 'tall Soho no longer reign,
But patronize our Private Boxes.
Let Cupid, ardent chaperon,
To Hart Street lead the London graces,
As loose of manners as of zone,
With bosoms bare, and brazen faces.
To Hart Street lead the London graces,
As loose of manners as of zone,
With bosoms bare, and brazen faces.
Bring with thee, dame, a tempting show
Of girls fantastic, gay and jolly;
Age without thee is sapient woe,
And with thee, youth is joyous folly.
Of girls fantastic, gay and jolly;
Age without thee is sapient woe,
And with thee, youth is joyous folly.
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Bring, too, the footpad demigod,
Who once outwitted wise Apollo;
O'er paths by truant Venus trod,
Sly Mercury is sure to follow.
Who once outwitted wise Apollo;
O'er paths by truant Venus trod,
Sly Mercury is sure to follow.
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ODE XXXI. TO APOLLO.
Quid dedicatum poscit Apollinem.
What asks the Bard who first invades
With votive verse Apollo's shrine,
And lulls with midnight serenades
Thee, male Duenna of the Nine?
With votive verse Apollo's shrine,
And lulls with midnight serenades
Thee, male Duenna of the Nine?
Not ven'son, darling of the church,
Mutton will serve his turn as well;
Nor costly turtle dress'd by Birch—
He spurns the fat to sound the shell.
Mutton will serve his turn as well;
Nor costly turtle dress'd by Birch—
He spurns the fat to sound the shell.
Fearing to trust to dubious stocks,
He ne'er invests his money there,
And views with scorn the London Docks,
Perch'd on his castle in the air.
He ne'er invests his money there,
And views with scorn the London Docks,
Perch'd on his castle in the air.
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Ye sunburnt peasantry of Gaul,
Go prune you vines for Norfolk's lord,
His jovial table welcomes all,
And laughing plenty crowns his board.
Go prune you vines for Norfolk's lord,
His jovial table welcomes all,
And laughing plenty crowns his board.
Favourite of Bacchus! see him lay
His comrades senseless on the floor,
And then march soberly away,
With bottles three, ay, sometimes four.
His comrades senseless on the floor,
And then march soberly away,
With bottles three, ay, sometimes four.
My skill in wines is quickly said,
I drink them but to make me merry;
Claret and port alike are red,
Champagne is white and so is sherry.
I drink them but to make me merry;
Claret and port alike are red,
Champagne is white and so is sherry.
Grant me, ye pow'rs, a middle state,
Remote from poverty and wealth;
Above the poor, below the great,
A body and a mind in health.
Remote from poverty and wealth;
Above the poor, below the great,
A body and a mind in health.
And when old Time upon this head,
His snowy bounty shall impart,
Oh grant that he may never spread
Its freezing influence to my heart.
His snowy bounty shall impart,
Oh grant that he may never spread
Its freezing influence to my heart.
96
ODE XXXII. To the COMIC MUSE.
Poscimus, si quid vacui sub umbra.
Sweet Muse! beneath Apollo's ray,
If ever I, your charms adoring,
Begot a jocund roundelay,
The noisy gods thought worth encoring—
If ever I, your charms adoring,
Begot a jocund roundelay,
The noisy gods thought worth encoring—
Come now, and with your archest smile,
Inspire, sweet maid, a comic ditty,
Something in Colman's humorous style,
And just about one third as witty.
Inspire, sweet maid, a comic ditty,
Something in Colman's humorous style,
And just about one third as witty.
By either sister lov'd, caress'd,
He, gay deceiver, picks and chuses:
To serve two masters is no jest,
But he contrives to serve two muses.
He, gay deceiver, picks and chuses:
To serve two masters is no jest,
But he contrives to serve two muses.
97
Now he pourtrays the man of pelf,
Unmoved by Yarico's disaster;
And now the Latin-quoting elf,
Still cringing to the wealthiest master.
Unmoved by Yarico's disaster;
And now the Latin-quoting elf,
Still cringing to the wealthiest master.
To Afric's sultry plain convey'd,
To paint the ardent Moor's distresses,
He toys with Sutta, dingy maid,
With eyes as sable as her tresses.
To paint the ardent Moor's distresses,
He toys with Sutta, dingy maid,
With eyes as sable as her tresses.
From grave to gay he loves to fly,
Whilst I with you alone would tarry;
A constant Colonel Standard I,
And he a volatile Sir Harry.
Whilst I with you alone would tarry;
A constant Colonel Standard I,
And he a volatile Sir Harry.
O pride of Phœbus! heavenly fair!
Rare visitant at great men's tables,
Whose smiles can make old fashion'd care,
Doff for awhile his suit of sables,
Rare visitant at great men's tables,
Whose smiles can make old fashion'd care,
Doff for awhile his suit of sables,
Enroll me on your jovial staff,
Sworn foe to sentimental sadness,
And I will live to love and laugh,
And wake the lyre to you and gladness.
Sworn foe to sentimental sadness,
And I will live to love and laugh,
And wake the lyre to you and gladness.
98
ODE XXXIII. CROSS PURPOSES.
Albi, ne doleas plus nimio, memor.
'Tis folly yourself and your readers to vex,
With verses as feeble and bald as old Q.;
Your Fanny but echoes the creed of her sex,
Preferring a younger Adonis to you.
With verses as feeble and bald as old Q.;
Your Fanny but echoes the creed of her sex,
Preferring a younger Adonis to you.
Amanda, the mild, follows Ned thro' the Park,
From Kensington Gardens to Cumberland Gate,
Yet Ned, an ungrateful and volatile spark,
Adores a virago, and truckles to Kate.
From Kensington Gardens to Cumberland Gate,
Yet Ned, an ungrateful and volatile spark,
Adores a virago, and truckles to Kate.
But sooner the shark from West Indian seas,
Shall swim in a bowl, and by children be fed,
Than Kitty, as rampant as Pope's Eloise,
Surrender the mistress, and marry with Ned.
Shall swim in a bowl, and by children be fed,
Than Kitty, as rampant as Pope's Eloise,
Surrender the mistress, and marry with Ned.
99
So wills Madame Venus: she's ever delighted
To join young and old in one wearisome yoke,
Then tortures the bosom with flames unrequited,
And thinks our misfortunes an excellent joke.
To join young and old in one wearisome yoke,
Then tortures the bosom with flames unrequited,
And thinks our misfortunes an excellent joke.
Why cannot I love pretty Susan, or Polly,
Or gentle Nannette, or dear sensitive Jane?
The answer, alas! but exposes my folly—
I court lovely Ellen, and court her in vain.
Or gentle Nannette, or dear sensitive Jane?
The answer, alas! but exposes my folly—
I court lovely Ellen, and court her in vain.
I'd give all I'm worth to be able to hate her;
She smiles, and I picture consent in her eye,
When, cold and deceitful as ice to a skaiter,
She tempts me to pleasure, but leaves me to die.
She smiles, and I picture consent in her eye,
When, cold and deceitful as ice to a skaiter,
She tempts me to pleasure, but leaves me to die.
100
ODE XXXIV. CŒLEBS IN SEARCH OF A WIFE.
Parcus Deorum cultor et infrequens.
Inveigled by Hume from the Temple of Truth,
From Piety's sheepfold a stray lamb,
I laugh'd and I sang, a mere reprobate youth,
As seldom at church as Sir Balaam.
From Piety's sheepfold a stray lamb,
I laugh'd and I sang, a mere reprobate youth,
As seldom at church as Sir Balaam.
But now thro' a crack in my worldly wise head,
A ray of new light sheds a blaze,
And back with the speed of a zealot, I tread
The wide metaphysical maze.
A ray of new light sheds a blaze,
And back with the speed of a zealot, I tread
The wide metaphysical maze.
Of late thro' the Strand as I saunter'd away,
A curricle gave me new life,
For oh! in that curricle, spruce as the day,
Sate Cœlebs in search of a wife!
A curricle gave me new life,
For oh! in that curricle, spruce as the day,
Sate Cœlebs in search of a wife!
101
Majestic as thunder he roll'd thro' the air,
His horses were rapidly driven,
I gaz'd like the pilgrim in Vanity-fair,
When Faithful was snatch'd into Heaven.
His horses were rapidly driven,
I gaz'd like the pilgrim in Vanity-fair,
When Faithful was snatch'd into Heaven.
Loud bellow'd the monsters in Pidcock's abyss,
Old vagabond Thames caught the sound,
It shook the Adelphi, it scar'd gloomy Dis,
And Styx swore an oath underground.
Old vagabond Thames caught the sound,
It shook the Adelphi, it scar'd gloomy Dis,
And Styx swore an oath underground.
The Puritan rises, Philosophy falls,
When touch'd by his Harlequin rod;
The cobler and prelate from separate stalls,
Chaunt hymns to the young demigod.
When touch'd by his Harlequin rod;
The cobler and prelate from separate stalls,
Chaunt hymns to the young demigod.
The beardless reformer leaves London behind,
He wanders o'er woodland and common,
And dives into depths theologic, to find
That darkest of swans—a white woman.
He wanders o'er woodland and common,
And dives into depths theologic, to find
That darkest of swans—a white woman.
The Pilgrim of Bunyan felt wiser alarms,
His darling at home could not bind him,
'Twas Death and the Devil when lock'd in her arms,
'Twas Heaven—when he left her behind him.
His darling at home could not bind him,
'Twas Death and the Devil when lock'd in her arms,
'Twas Heaven—when he left her behind him.
102
ODE XXXV.
[Goddess! by grateful gulls ador'd]
O Diva, gratum quæ regis Antium.
To Fortune.
Goddess! by grateful gulls ador'd,
Whose wand can make a clown a lord,
And lords to coachmen humble:
Whose Midas touch our gold supplies,
Then bids our wealth in paper rise,
Rise? zounds! I should say tumble!
Whose wand can make a clown a lord,
And lords to coachmen humble:
Whose Midas touch our gold supplies,
Then bids our wealth in paper rise,
Rise? zounds! I should say tumble!
Thee barking Fire Assurance baits;
With face as brazen as her plates
She in thy lobby lingers:
But fire, alas! to smoak will turn,
And sharers, though no houses burn,
Are sure to burn their fingers.
With face as brazen as her plates
She in thy lobby lingers:
But fire, alas! to smoak will turn,
And sharers, though no houses burn,
Are sure to burn their fingers.
103
In troubled water others fish,
Locks, docks, canals, their utmost wish;
They're welcome if they love it:
They who on water money lend,
Can seldom manage, in the end,
To keep their heads above it.
Locks, docks, canals, their utmost wish;
They're welcome if they love it:
They who on water money lend,
Can seldom manage, in the end,
To keep their heads above it.
Who sinks in earth but sinks in cash;
'Tis to make nothing but a smash,
Do nothing, but undoing:
New bridges halt amid the flood,
New roads desert us in the mud,
And turn out “roads to ruin.”
'Tis to make nothing but a smash,
Do nothing, but undoing:
New bridges halt amid the flood,
New roads desert us in the mud,
And turn out “roads to ruin.”
The knavish crew, in bubbles skill'd,
Next, high in air their castles build,
But air, too, mocks their trouble;
Balloons to earth too quickly slope,
And Winsor's Gas, like Windsor's Soap,
When blown, appears a bubble.
Next, high in air their castles build,
But air, too, mocks their trouble;
Balloons to earth too quickly slope,
And Winsor's Gas, like Windsor's Soap,
When blown, appears a bubble.
104
Oh Fortune! in thy giddy march,
Kick down (and welcome) Highgate Arch,
But be content with one ill,
When from the gallery ruin nods,
Oh! whisper silence to the gods,
And spare the Muses' Tunnel!
Kick down (and welcome) Highgate Arch,
But be content with one ill,
When from the gallery ruin nods,
Oh! whisper silence to the gods,
And spare the Muses' Tunnel!
Grim bankruptcy thy path besets
With one great seal and three gazettes
Suspended from her shoulders:
Diggers and miners swell her train,
Who having bored the earth in vain,
Now bore the poor share-holders.
With one great seal and three gazettes
Suspended from her shoulders:
Diggers and miners swell her train,
Who having bored the earth in vain,
Now bore the poor share-holders.
While vulgar dupes compell'd to pay,
Decoy'd too far to fly away,
Are caught and pluck'd like tame ducks,
Their pools of fancied wealth are lakes
Wherein their cash makes ducks and drakes,
Till they themselves are lame ducks.
Decoy'd too far to fly away,
Are caught and pluck'd like tame ducks,
Their pools of fancied wealth are lakes
Wherein their cash makes ducks and drakes,
Till they themselves are lame ducks.
105
Farces like those to send adrift,
Blind Goddess, give my farce a lift,
And bid me touch the Spanish:
Too weak to brave the critics' scorn,
So shall it serve the weak to warn,
And quack impostors banish.
Blind Goddess, give my farce a lift,
And bid me touch the Spanish:
Too weak to brave the critics' scorn,
So shall it serve the weak to warn,
And quack impostors banish.
Those rampant “minions of their breed,”
Too long from Ketch's halter freed,
Pursue their slippery courses.
Gorged with their asinine repast,
Oh, grant they may devour at last
Themselves, like Duncan's horses.
Too long from Ketch's halter freed,
Pursue their slippery courses.
Gorged with their asinine repast,
Oh, grant they may devour at last
Themselves, like Duncan's horses.
This alludes to a ridiculous Farce, which met with undeserved favor at the time of its appearance, and is now deservedly forgotten.
106
ODE XXXVI. THE GAOL DELIVERY.
Et thure et fidibus juvat.
Scrape the fiddles, rub the glasses;
Jove bestow'd, to sweeten life,
Claret, music, dice, and lasses;
Fill about, and banish strife.
Find some flat who apes his betters,
Bid him cook a tavern treat;
Blithest of insolvent debtors,
Florio issues from the Fleet.
Jove bestow'd, to sweeten life,
Claret, music, dice, and lasses;
Fill about, and banish strife.
Find some flat who apes his betters,
Bid him cook a tavern treat;
Blithest of insolvent debtors,
Florio issues from the Fleet.
Mark with what a merry mazzard,
Nightly poaching where they list,
Elbow shaking sons of hazard
Shake his honorable fist.
But his brother, gay and jolly,
Simpers with sincerest glee:
Sons of the same mother, Folly,
Who can wonder they agree?
Nightly poaching where they list,
Elbow shaking sons of hazard
Shake his honorable fist.
107
Simpers with sincerest glee:
Sons of the same mother, Folly,
Who can wonder they agree?
Tap we now our heels in dancing
Tipsily along the floor:
When the burgundy's advancing,
Heel taps shall exist no more.
Thornton, aid us in our waltzing,
Aid us, Bacchus, in our reels:
If we stumble, why the fault's in
Polished floors and brazen heels.
Tipsily along the floor:
When the burgundy's advancing,
Heel taps shall exist no more.
Thornton, aid us in our waltzing,
Aid us, Bacchus, in our reels:
If we stumble, why the fault's in
Polished floors and brazen heels.
Bring burnt toast and pepper'd devils,
Dry provocatives to drink;
Smile, Aurora, on our revels,
Fill the bowl, boys, to the brink.
In a jovial hob and nob let
Kitty with the youth contend,
Quaff, like Ammon's son, the goblet:—
Joy to our unprison'd friend!
Dry provocatives to drink;
Smile, Aurora, on our revels,
Fill the bowl, boys, to the brink.
In a jovial hob and nob let
Kitty with the youth contend,
Quaff, like Ammon's son, the goblet:—
Joy to our unprison'd friend!
108
Kitty on each rival brother
Turns in turn her leering eye,
Dubious whether this or t'other
Best deserve her tender sigh.
Should Old Nick hereafter waver,
To decide, like Kitty, loth,
Horace, as a special favor,
To his care surrenders—both.
Turns in turn her leering eye,
Dubious whether this or t'other
Best deserve her tender sigh.
Should Old Nick hereafter waver,
To decide, like Kitty, loth,
Horace, as a special favor,
To his care surrenders—both.
109
ODE XXXVII. LOB'S POUND.
The Poet rejoiceth in the return of tranquillity, after the imprisonment of Sir Francis Burdett in the Tower.
Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero.
“Now broach ye a pipe of the best Malvoisie,”
'Tis sold at the Marmion tavern,
Come, feast upon turtle, and sing a Scotch glee,
And dance round the table in grand jubilee,
Like so many hags in a cavern.
'Tis sold at the Marmion tavern,
Come, feast upon turtle, and sing a Scotch glee,
And dance round the table in grand jubilee,
Like so many hags in a cavern.
'Tis wrong to draw corks in the midst of a row,
Old Port is the devil when shaken;
The caption was novel, I needs must allow;
An Englishman's house was his castle till now,
But castles are now and then taken.
Old Port is the devil when shaken;
The caption was novel, I needs must allow;
An Englishman's house was his castle till now,
But castles are now and then taken.
110
Dame Fortune had given Sir Francis a dram—
Your drunkards will never be quiet;
He said, “Mr. Serjeant, your warrant's a sham,
Upheld by the rabble; I'll stay where I am.”
So London was all in a riot.
Your drunkards will never be quiet;
He said, “Mr. Serjeant, your warrant's a sham,
Upheld by the rabble; I'll stay where I am.”
So London was all in a riot.
But soon Mr. Serjeant surmounted the basement,
Which only made John Bull the gladder;
For back he was push'd, to his utter amazement;
The baronet smil'd when he saw from the casement
His enemies mounting a ladder.
Which only made John Bull the gladder;
For back he was push'd, to his utter amazement;
The baronet smil'd when he saw from the casement
His enemies mounting a ladder.
At length all the constables broke in below;
Quoth Gibbs, “It is legal, depend on't.”
Thus riding in chace of a Doe or a Roe,
The flying bumbailiff cries “yoix! tally ho!”
And seizes the luckless defendant.
Quoth Gibbs, “It is legal, depend on't.”
Thus riding in chace of a Doe or a Roe,
The flying bumbailiff cries “yoix! tally ho!”
And seizes the luckless defendant.
Sir Francis, determin'd the question to try,
Was quietly reading law latin;
Not able, and therefore not willing to fly,
He saw all the Parliament forces draw nigh,
As firm as the chair that he sat in.
Was quietly reading law latin;
Not able, and therefore not willing to fly,
He saw all the Parliament forces draw nigh,
As firm as the chair that he sat in.
111
His lady was by, and she play'd on her lute,
And sung “Will you come to the bower,”
The Serjeant at Arms, who was hitherto mute,
Advanced and exclaim'd, like an ill-natur'd brute,
“Sir Knight, will you come to the Tower?”
And sung “Will you come to the bower,”
The Serjeant at Arms, who was hitherto mute,
Advanced and exclaim'd, like an ill-natur'd brute,
“Sir Knight, will you come to the Tower?”
He mounted the carriage, by numbers oppress'd,
But first, with a dubious intention,
Like Queen Cleopatra he secretly press'd
Two serpents, in tender adieu, to his breast,
Whose names I had rather not mention.
But first, with a dubious intention,
Like Queen Cleopatra he secretly press'd
Two serpents, in tender adieu, to his breast,
Whose names I had rather not mention.
'Tis thus other Wimbledon heroes attain
The summit of posthumous fame;
They dodge their pursuers through alley and lane,
But when they discover resistance is vain,
They kick up a dust, and die game.
The summit of posthumous fame;
They dodge their pursuers through alley and lane,
But when they discover resistance is vain,
They kick up a dust, and die game.
112
ODE XXXVIII. THE BILL OF FARE.
Persicos odi puer apparatus.
Here, Waiter, I'll dine in this box,
I've look'd at your long bill of fare;
A Pythagorean it shocks
To view all the rarities there.
I've look'd at your long bill of fare;
A Pythagorean it shocks
To view all the rarities there.
I'm not overburthen'd with cash,
Roast beef is the dinner for me;
Then why should I eat calipash,
Or why should I eat calipee?
Roast beef is the dinner for me;
Then why should I eat calipash,
Or why should I eat calipee?
113
Your trifle's no trifle, I ween,
To customers prudent as I am;
Your peas in December are green,
But I'm not so green as to buy 'em.
To customers prudent as I am;
Your peas in December are green,
But I'm not so green as to buy 'em.
With ven'son I seldom am fed—
Go bring me the sirloin, you ninny;
Who dines at a guinea a head
Will ne'er by his head get a guinea.
Go bring me the sirloin, you ninny;
Who dines at a guinea a head
Will ne'er by his head get a guinea.
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