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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 XXXV.
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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!
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.

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.
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.”
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.

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!
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.
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.

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.
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.
 

This alludes to a ridiculous Farce, which met with undeserved favor at the time of its appearance, and is now deservedly forgotten.