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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]

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ODE VII. THE OUSTED TREASURER.
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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.
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,

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.
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.
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

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.
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.
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.