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. |
 | II. | BOOK II. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
 | Horace in London |  |
114
BOOK II.
ODE I. THE FIRST O. P. WAR.
Motum ex Metello consule civicum.
To Mr. Kemble.
When civil commotion beleaguers the Thane,
When tempests assail aged Lear,
When the ghost of old Hamlet amazes the Dane,
In Richard the cruel, or Hotspur the vain,
O when shall your equal appear?
When tempests assail aged Lear,
When the ghost of old Hamlet amazes the Dane,
In Richard the cruel, or Hotspur the vain,
O when shall your equal appear?
The wreath of applause what philosopher scorns?
'Tis a crown of the sweetest moss roses;
But when it the brow of an actor adorns,
The public will mix a few good-natur'd thorns,
To tickle his ears when he dozes.
'Tis a crown of the sweetest moss roses;
But when it the brow of an actor adorns,
The public will mix a few good-natur'd thorns,
To tickle his ears when he dozes.
115
Awhile to your theatre now bid adieu;
Fly, fly, from the tumult and riot;
Attempt not your truncheon and staff to renew,
But give them to Townsend, to help to subdue
The foes to new prices and quiet.
Fly, fly, from the tumult and riot;
Attempt not your truncheon and staff to renew,
But give them to Townsend, to help to subdue
The foes to new prices and quiet.
For hark! what a discord of bugles and bells,
What whistling, and springing of rattles!
What screaming, and groaning, and hissing, and yells,
Till mad headed Mammon his victims impels
To scuffle, row, riot, and battles.
What whistling, and springing of rattles!
What screaming, and groaning, and hissing, and yells,
Till mad headed Mammon his victims impels
To scuffle, row, riot, and battles.
And now from the barracks of Bow Street, alack!
A band under Townsend and Sayers,
Wave high their gilt staves, while the dull sounding thwack
Falls frequent and thick on the enemies' back,
Or visits their pate with a merry toned crack,
In aid of King John and the Players.
A band under Townsend and Sayers,
Wave high their gilt staves, while the dull sounding thwack
Falls frequent and thick on the enemies' back,
Or visits their pate with a merry toned crack,
In aid of King John and the Players.
The Billingsgate muses, indignant to find
Catalani and fiddlers from Paris
Usurping their place, in revenge have combin'd
To kick up this dust in the popular mind,
So fatal to Kemble and Harris.
Catalani and fiddlers from Paris
Usurping their place, in revenge have combin'd
To kick up this dust in the popular mind,
So fatal to Kemble and Harris.
116
What surly brown bear has not gladly receiv'd
The misers who old prices stick to?
At Bow Street what knight is not sorely aggriev'd?
Where Christians are cross'd, Unbelievers believ'd,
Oh story “mirabile dictu!”
The misers who old prices stick to?
At Bow Street what knight is not sorely aggriev'd?
Where Christians are cross'd, Unbelievers believ'd,
Oh story “mirabile dictu!”
To mix in this warfare regardless of fear,
What 'prentice or clerk is unwilling?
From Smithfield and Wapping what heroes appear,
Who fight, I acknowledge, for all they hold dear,
When the object of war's the last shilling.
What 'prentice or clerk is unwilling?
From Smithfield and Wapping what heroes appear,
Who fight, I acknowledge, for all they hold dear,
When the object of war's the last shilling.
What fists of defiance the pugilists wield!
What Jews have not had bloody noses?
What victim of law, who to Mainwaring yields,
But gladly for ever would quit Cold Bath Fields
To fight here “pro aris et focis”?
What Jews have not had bloody noses?
What victim of law, who to Mainwaring yields,
But gladly for ever would quit Cold Bath Fields
To fight here “pro aris et focis”?
But gently, my muse, hush your angry ton'd lyre,
From rows so disgraceful remove;
And seated at home by your own parlour fire,
Let Beauty and Bacchus your numbers inspire
To melody, laughter, and love.
From rows so disgraceful remove;
And seated at home by your own parlour fire,
Let Beauty and Bacchus your numbers inspire
To melody, laughter, and love.
117
ODE II.
[If we don't make manure of our money]
Nullus argento color est avaris.
To the Wanstead Lucullus.
If we don't make manure of our money,
And spread it that others may thrive,
'Tis useless as ungather'd honey
Neglected to rot in the hive.
And spread it that others may thrive,
'Tis useless as ungather'd honey
Neglected to rot in the hive.
Fame, trampling on ribbons and garters,
And scoffing at guineas as dross,
Lifts o'er the rich reprobate Chartres,
The poor benefactor of Ross.
And scoffing at guineas as dross,
Lifts o'er the rich reprobate Chartres,
The poor benefactor of Ross.
To govern your mental diseases,
Is boasting a far wider way,
Than if you could double your leases,
And Blenheim to Wanstead convey.
Is boasting a far wider way,
Than if you could double your leases,
And Blenheim to Wanstead convey.
118
With dropsical fevers unhealthy,
Our drinking increases our thirst;
E'en such is the fate of the wealthy,
By quenchless cupidity curs'd.
Our drinking increases our thirst;
E'en such is the fate of the wealthy,
By quenchless cupidity curs'd.
The mob on the ninth of November,
Who shout at my Lord and his mace,
Suppose him the happiest member,
Of Fortunes gay liveried race.
Who shout at my Lord and his mace,
Suppose him the happiest member,
Of Fortunes gay liveried race.
Such fancies can never inveigle
Men cast in philosophy's mould;
They, proud as the sun-daring eagle,
Gaze firm and undazzled on gold.
Men cast in philosophy's mould;
They, proud as the sun-daring eagle,
Gaze firm and undazzled on gold.
119
ODE III. PHILOSOPHIC ENJOYMENT.
Æquam memento rebus in arduis.
To H. R.—Esq.
When Fortune, fickle jade's unkind,
Preserve the philosophic mind,
That dignifies it's bearer;
And when the goddess opes her hand,
Receive her purse, but scorn the band
That blinds its subject wearer.
Preserve the philosophic mind,
That dignifies it's bearer;
And when the goddess opes her hand,
Receive her purse, but scorn the band
That blinds its subject wearer.
Whether condemn'd, by fate's decree,
To toil in town, and learn, like me,
Economy from Rumford;
Or bless'd in all that you desire,
Living, as now, a jovial squire,
In luxury and comfort.
To toil in town, and learn, like me,
Economy from Rumford;
Or bless'd in all that you desire,
Living, as now, a jovial squire,
In luxury and comfort.
120
In Windsor's green romantic glades,
The “Monarch's and the Muses” shades,
By silver Thames reclining,
Unfetter'd now your mind may soar,
On Aganippe's hallow'd shore,
The muse's wreath entwining.
The “Monarch's and the Muses” shades,
By silver Thames reclining,
Unfetter'd now your mind may soar,
On Aganippe's hallow'd shore,
The muse's wreath entwining.
Quaff, while you may, your choicest wine,
Let beauty and the muse combine
To crown your classic leisure;
Snatch what the fickle fates supply,
Enjoy the roses 'ere they die,
And give a loose to pleasure.
Let beauty and the muse combine
To crown your classic leisure;
Snatch what the fickle fates supply,
Enjoy the roses 'ere they die,
And give a loose to pleasure.
Death pays no deference to name,
Peasant or Prince 'tis all the same;
Unsparing king of terror,
His warrant cannot be delay'd,
Nor his proceedings quash'd or stay'd
By any writ of error.
Peasant or Prince 'tis all the same;
Unsparing king of terror,
His warrant cannot be delay'd,
Nor his proceedings quash'd or stay'd
By any writ of error.
121
Your heir, perchance, when you're removed,
Improving on what you improved,
To give his taste expansion,
May fell your groves, implant the lawn,
And with a newer grace adorn
Your metamorphosed mansion.
Improving on what you improved,
To give his taste expansion,
May fell your groves, implant the lawn,
And with a newer grace adorn
Your metamorphosed mansion.
Grim Cerberus at random snaps;
Life is a stage laid out in traps,
A pantomimic vision;
Some live to see the curtain drop,
And down some prematurely pop,
Like Banquo's apparition.
Life is a stage laid out in traps,
A pantomimic vision;
Some live to see the curtain drop,
And down some prematurely pop,
Like Banquo's apparition.
122
ODE IV. THE ACTRESS.
Ne sit ancillæ tibi amor pudori.
An Actress! well, I own 'tis true,
But why should that your love subdue,
Or bid you blush for Polly?
When all within is sense and worth,
To care for modes of life, or birth,
Is arrant pride and folly.
But why should that your love subdue,
Or bid you blush for Polly?
When all within is sense and worth,
To care for modes of life, or birth,
Is arrant pride and folly.
A Polly, in a former age,
Resign'd the Captain, and the stage,
To shine as Bolton's Duchess.
Derby and Craven since have shown
That virtue builds herself a throne,
Ennobling whom she touches.
Resign'd the Captain, and the stage,
To shine as Bolton's Duchess.
Derby and Craven since have shown
That virtue builds herself a throne,
Ennobling whom she touches.
123
In each new pantomime that's hatched,
The Columbine is quickly snatched,
To wed some wealthy suitor:
'Tis “All for love, the world well lost”—
What pupil calculates the cost,
When passion is the tutor?
The Columbine is quickly snatched,
To wed some wealthy suitor:
'Tis “All for love, the world well lost”—
What pupil calculates the cost,
When passion is the tutor?
Why, all the world's a stage, and we,
Its pantomimic pageantry,
Change places and conditions:
Fortune's the magic Harlequin,
Whose touch diffuses o'er the scene
Fantastic transpositions.
Its pantomimic pageantry,
Change places and conditions:
Fortune's the magic Harlequin,
Whose touch diffuses o'er the scene
Fantastic transpositions.
Your Polly in her veins may bear
The blood, perchance, of London's Mayor,
Who smote the King's reviler;
Whose mace a monarch's life secures,
But slays an ancestor of yours,
In knocking down Wat Tyler.
The blood, perchance, of London's Mayor,
Who smote the King's reviler;
Whose mace a monarch's life secures,
But slays an ancestor of yours,
In knocking down Wat Tyler.
124
She who is artless, chaste, refin'd,
Disinterested, pure in mind,
Unsoil'd with vice's leaven,
Has that nobility within,
Which kings can neither give nor win;
Her patent is from heaven.
Disinterested, pure in mind,
Unsoil'd with vice's leaven,
Has that nobility within,
Which kings can neither give nor win;
Her patent is from heaven.
Discard your doubts—your suit prefer,
You dignify yourself, not her,
By honourable passion:
And if your noble friends should stare,
Go, bid them show a happier pair
Among the fools of fashion.
You dignify yourself, not her,
By honourable passion:
And if your noble friends should stare,
Go, bid them show a happier pair
Among the fools of fashion.
125
ODE V. THE UNFLEDGED MUSE.
Nondum sub actâ ferre jugum valet.
Your Muse is too young for the trade,
Forbear the poor soul to caress:
The tender, the delicate maid
Will die with the weight of the press.
Forbear the poor soul to caress:
The tender, the delicate maid
Will die with the weight of the press.
Still let her on Pegasus stray,
But pace, in a canter at most,
The meads of La Belle Assemblée,
The Ladies' Museum and Post.
But pace, in a canter at most,
The meads of La Belle Assemblée,
The Ladies' Museum and Post.
To critical batteries blind,
How many a volunteer muse,
Her magazines leaving behind,
Has met with her death in reviews.
How many a volunteer muse,
Her magazines leaving behind,
Has met with her death in reviews.
126
Then weigh well the pros and the cons,
Shew nought of the goose but its quill;
Get tribute from critical dons,
And then touch the Spanish at will.
Shew nought of the goose but its quill;
Get tribute from critical dons,
And then touch the Spanish at will.
Then gallop, or canter, or trot,
Your muse will the labour endure:
Fight cap-a-pied heroes with Scott,
Woo sensitive beauty with Moore;
Your muse will the labour endure:
Fight cap-a-pied heroes with Scott,
Woo sensitive beauty with Moore;
Then rhyming, or prosing, or soft,
Or rugged, your thoughts you may blab;
Write egotist essays with Loft,
Or workhouse heroics with Crabbe.
Or rugged, your thoughts you may blab;
Write egotist essays with Loft,
Or workhouse heroics with Crabbe.
While booksellers kindle your urn,
And puff your funereal fires,
Your flame shall continue to burn,
Long after your fuel expires.
And puff your funereal fires,
Your flame shall continue to burn,
Long after your fuel expires.
127
ODE VI. THE CLASSIC VILLA.
Septimi, Gades aditure mecum.
Muse, at whose gate I've oft times knock'd,
In fancy's dream thy charms caressing;
Whose maid my dignity has shock'd
As oft, by answering, Sir, she's dressing.
In fancy's dream thy charms caressing;
Whose maid my dignity has shock'd
As oft, by answering, Sir, she's dressing.
O'er my last lay thy gold dust shake,
A guinea for each line I spin is
The lowest farthing I can take;
The whole will cost three thousand guineas.
A guinea for each line I spin is
The lowest farthing I can take;
The whole will cost three thousand guineas.
Then let me write from youth to age,
And when the critics dub me Crassus,
With a low bow I'll quit the stage,
And sport a villa near Parnassus.
And when the critics dub me Crassus,
With a low bow I'll quit the stage,
And sport a villa near Parnassus.
128
Safe from adversity's attacks,
There let me quaff from Phœbus' chalice,
In a snug house, like trusty Mac's,
Adjoining to my sovereign's palace.
There let me quaff from Phœbus' chalice,
In a snug house, like trusty Mac's,
Adjoining to my sovereign's palace.
But if the envious fates refuse,
And dub my tuneful swan a raven,
Pack thy portmanteau, injured muse,
And seek with me Britannia's haven.
And dub my tuneful swan a raven,
Pack thy portmanteau, injured muse,
And seek with me Britannia's haven.
A lane near Cripplegate extends,
Grub Street 'tis call'd, the London Pindus,
Where, but that Bards are seldom friends,
Bards might shake hands from adverse windows.
Grub Street 'tis call'd, the London Pindus,
Where, but that Bards are seldom friends,
Bards might shake hands from adverse windows.
There Thyrsis tunes his oaten reed,
(Nought oaten else to make him merry)
There grave Virginia smokes her weed,
And Juniper distils his berry.
(Nought oaten else to make him merry)
There grave Virginia smokes her weed,
And Juniper distils his berry.
All loftier tenants I discard,
I soar to catch Apollo's favour;
The attic floor shall prop the bard,
And attic salt his porridge savour.
I soar to catch Apollo's favour;
The attic floor shall prop the bard,
And attic salt his porridge savour.
129
And when the poet's goal I reach,
With body lean and tunic shabby,
Chaunt, widow'd muse, my dying speech,
And shroud my ashes in the abbey.
With body lean and tunic shabby,
Chaunt, widow'd muse, my dying speech,
And shroud my ashes in the abbey.
130
ODE VII. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
O sæpe mecum tempus in Itimum.
Oh! whence are you come,
My crony, my chum,
In boyhood's bright sun-shiney weather?
What shock of the spheres,
After so many years,
Has thrown us again both together?
My crony, my chum,
In boyhood's bright sun-shiney weather?
What shock of the spheres,
After so many years,
Has thrown us again both together?
How oft you and I
Have drank ourselves dry,
Till mounting high over our heads,
Morn enter'd the casement,
And stared with amazement,
To find us not yet in our beds.
Have drank ourselves dry,
Till mounting high over our heads,
Morn enter'd the casement,
And stared with amazement,
To find us not yet in our beds.
131
One night at the British,
We grew rather skittish,
And sallied out fighting the rabble;
But the guardians of night,
Put our valour to flight,
And I lost my hat in the squabble.
We grew rather skittish,
And sallied out fighting the rabble;
But the guardians of night,
Put our valour to flight,
And I lost my hat in the squabble.
Fair cloud-cover'd Venus,
Intruding between us,
Me carried away from the battle;
While you, left at large,
Return'd to the charge,
And bore off a lanthorn and rattle.
Intruding between us,
Me carried away from the battle;
While you, left at large,
Return'd to the charge,
And bore off a lanthorn and rattle.
'Tis six—come and dine,
And over our wine
We'll talk of our juvenile laurels;
What boys were we then!
But now we are men,
And seldom engage in street quarrels.
And over our wine
We'll talk of our juvenile laurels;
What boys were we then!
But now we are men,
And seldom engage in street quarrels.
At twelve let us sup,
We'll not keep it up
All night, like your rake-helly ranters;
At three, or half after,
The goddess of laughter,
Shall bear off the empty decanters.
We'll not keep it up
All night, like your rake-helly ranters;
132
The goddess of laughter,
Shall bear off the empty decanters.
We'll talk of our gambols,
Our riots and rambles,
Till Phœbus looks out of his garret;
Two bottles in one,
Are excellent fun,
So, waiter—a magnum of claret.
Our riots and rambles,
Till Phœbus looks out of his garret;
Two bottles in one,
Are excellent fun,
So, waiter—a magnum of claret.
133
ODE VIII. To Mrs. MARY ANNE CLARKE.
Ulla si juris tibi pejerati
If, furious as your seeming fibs,
Fate aided by Sir Vicary Gibbs,
On thee, frail fair one, pouncing,
Had pair'd one nail or drawn one tooth,
While tooth and nail you fought for truth,
I might have thought you bouncing.
Fate aided by Sir Vicary Gibbs,
On thee, frail fair one, pouncing,
Had pair'd one nail or drawn one tooth,
While tooth and nail you fought for truth,
I might have thought you bouncing.
But now, the grand inquiry o'er,
You blaze upon us more and more,
For public life grown fitter—
To Westbourne Place all parties go—
At lovers' perjuries we know,
Great Jove himself will titter.
You blaze upon us more and more,
For public life grown fitter—
To Westbourne Place all parties go—
At lovers' perjuries we know,
Great Jove himself will titter.
134
Whether a widow or a wife,
Who cares? admit your private life
Than Erebus were fouler;
The public is indifferent quite,
Whether upon a given night,
You lept with me or Dowler.
Who cares? admit your private life
Than Erebus were fouler;
The public is indifferent quite,
Whether upon a given night,
You lept with me or Dowler.
Psha! Venus laughs at tricks like these,
Her nymphs, whatever their degrees,
Will cheat when they are able.
Yes, when commissions are the bait,
E'en Dulwich hermits emulate
The Santon in the fable.
Her nymphs, whatever their degrees,
Will cheat when they are able.
Yes, when commissions are the bait,
E'en Dulwich hermits emulate
The Santon in the fable.
New lovers swell your list; the old
Still make their suit, all potent gold
Unwilling to abandon:
Revolving time may view again,
Bowing obsequious in your train,
Some future Captain Sandon.
Still make their suit, all potent gold
Unwilling to abandon:
Revolving time may view again,
Bowing obsequious in your train,
Some future Captain Sandon.
Mothers by you their daughters warn,
And bid the tittering hussies scorn
Your scandalous behaving.
The prudent, parsimonious sire,
Trembles to see his son admire
Your mezzotint engraving.
And bid the tittering hussies scorn
Your scandalous behaving.
135
Trembles to see his son admire
Your mezzotint engraving.
The blushing bride your name reviles,
And in your fascinating smiles
Anticipates disaster.
The Cit who keeps a Clarke like you,
His Saturnalian fate will rue,
And find the Clerk the master.
And in your fascinating smiles
Anticipates disaster.
The Cit who keeps a Clarke like you,
His Saturnalian fate will rue,
And find the Clerk the master.
136
ODE IX. THE YOUNG WIDOW.
Non semper imbres nubibus hispidos.
Not for ever bleak November,
Chills the gayly dancing hours;
Rolling time, dear girl, remember,
Decks the bright parterre with flowers.
Chills the gayly dancing hours;
Rolling time, dear girl, remember,
Decks the bright parterre with flowers.
Ice the Serpentine may cover,
Oaks their leafless boughs display;
What care I? the winter over,
Soon shall follow laughing May.
Oaks their leafless boughs display;
What care I? the winter over,
Soon shall follow laughing May.
Why should'st thou, all joy denying,
Still in tears thy 'kerchief steep?
Pale Aurora hears thy sighing,
Setting Phœbus sees thee weep.
Still in tears thy 'kerchief steep?
Pale Aurora hears thy sighing,
Setting Phœbus sees thee weep.
137
Clad in bombazeen and cam'let,
Gertrude wept a monarch dead:
See her soon, forgetting Hamlet,
Take his brother to her bed.
Gertrude wept a monarch dead:
See her soon, forgetting Hamlet,
Take his brother to her bed.
Dido torn from poor Sichæus,
Thus repining sought relief:
“Anna! don't you think Æneas
“Might contrive to heal my grief?”
Thus repining sought relief:
“Anna! don't you think Æneas
“Might contrive to heal my grief?”
Thy good man in sleep reposes;
Soon thou wilt another choose:
Widow's weeds all turn to roses,
When a comely suitor woos.
Soon thou wilt another choose:
Widow's weeds all turn to roses,
When a comely suitor woos.
Give the hours to joyous greeting,
Vulgar sorrows far above;
Youth and beauty, O how fleeting!
O how fleeting, woman's love!
Vulgar sorrows far above;
Youth and beauty, O how fleeting!
O how fleeting, woman's love!
Let us sing the song you relish,
Who at Brighton bears the bell,
Walking Barclay, racing Mellish,
Fun, and vive la bagatelle!
Who at Brighton bears the bell,
Walking Barclay, racing Mellish,
Fun, and vive la bagatelle!
138
Tears from Pluto's dark dominion
Cannot now thy husband keep;
If they could, 'tis my opinion
Those bright eyes would cease to weep!
Cannot now thy husband keep;
If they could, 'tis my opinion
Those bright eyes would cease to weep!
139
ODE X. TO ROMEO,
On his late Fall from his Curricle.
Rectius vives, Licini, neque altum.
Sound, Romeo, sound a wise retreat,
For though the town's applause is sweet,
It's hiss is dire and horrid:
Nor when you give the boards the slip,
And change the truncheon for the whip,
Pave Pall Mall with your forehead.
For though the town's applause is sweet,
It's hiss is dire and horrid:
Nor when you give the boards the slip,
And change the truncheon for the whip,
Pave Pall Mall with your forehead.
Philosophy nor wastes nor spares,
Starves not to benefit his heirs,
Nor spends his all in riot;
Dines not at nine a Duke to meet,
Nor dives at one, in Dyot Street,
For Ordinary diet.
Starves not to benefit his heirs,
Nor spends his all in riot;
Dines not at nine a Duke to meet,
Nor dives at one, in Dyot Street,
For Ordinary diet.
140
When ice encrusts the slippery bank,
The tallest fall with heaviest spank,
(The bard who writes has felt it,)
The bolt that strikes thy dome, Saint Paul,
Sweeps o'er the cobler in his stall,
And leaves his wax unmelted.
The tallest fall with heaviest spank,
(The bard who writes has felt it,)
The bolt that strikes thy dome, Saint Paul,
Sweeps o'er the cobler in his stall,
And leaves his wax unmelted.
When caution's doublet cloaks the breast,
We fear the worst, we hope the best;
Last Wednesday seem'd a dry day,
But Jove pour'd down a waterfall
That spoilt our party to Vauxhall;
What then?—We went on Friday!
We fear the worst, we hope the best;
Last Wednesday seem'd a dry day,
But Jove pour'd down a waterfall
That spoilt our party to Vauxhall;
What then?—We went on Friday!
Would you Contentment's bower approach,
Walk, or when cloudy, call a coach;
When Sirius rages, boat it;
When quizzers roast you, silent sit;
And when admirers hail your wit,
Suspect Joe Miller wrote it.
Walk, or when cloudy, call a coach;
When Sirius rages, boat it;
When quizzers roast you, silent sit;
And when admirers hail your wit,
Suspect Joe Miller wrote it.
141
ODE XI. The QUIDNUNC.
Quid belicosus Cautaber et Scythes.
Cease, cease, my dear Harry, to trouble your brain,
With Spain and her heroes to liberty true;
Napoleon must cut off an arm of the main,
Ere he, or his arms, can give trouble to you.
With Spain and her heroes to liberty true;
Napoleon must cut off an arm of the main,
Ere he, or his arms, can give trouble to you.
Our youth, like a rainbow, soon loses its charms,
And with it life's flattering colours are gone;
Soft sleep, love, and pleasure, are scared from our arms,
As age on his crutches comes tottering on.
And with it life's flattering colours are gone;
Soft sleep, love, and pleasure, are scared from our arms,
As age on his crutches comes tottering on.
142
The spring and its roses soon bend to the blast,
The moon fades away, leaving darkness behind;
Since nature will change, why should misery last,
Or care and his legions bedevil our mind?
The moon fades away, leaving darkness behind;
Since nature will change, why should misery last,
Or care and his legions bedevil our mind?
Dear Hal, if thou lov'st me, (as Falstaff would say)
Let carking old care be invaulted below;
And if he will rise when you wish to be gay,
Bid him bring you a bottle of Chateau-Margoud.
Let carking old care be invaulted below;
And if he will rise when you wish to be gay,
Bid him bring you a bottle of Chateau-Margoud.
Then let him, when Bacchus and pleasure combine
To banish the woes of this whirligig world,
Like Clarence obtain his quietus in wine;
Within the Red Sea, let his spirit be hurl'd.
To banish the woes of this whirligig world,
Like Clarence obtain his quietus in wine;
Within the Red Sea, let his spirit be hurl'd.
The drinkers of water are drunkards, not we,
Ariston men Udor's an adage for swine;
For man's like a beast tippling water, and he
Must be drunk as a beast who refuses his wine.
Ariston men Udor's an adage for swine;
For man's like a beast tippling water, and he
Must be drunk as a beast who refuses his wine.
Let Laura, the lovely enchantress, appear,
And breathe to her harp the effusions of Moore:
Enjoying these transports, oh, what should we fear,
While wit can exalt us, or beauty allure?
And breathe to her harp the effusions of Moore:
Enjoying these transports, oh, what should we fear,
While wit can exalt us, or beauty allure?
143
Then cease, my dear Quidnunc, to groan at the news,
Nor mourn o'er the records of national sorrow,
But if you must study, oh study to lose,
In this day's enjoyment the thought of to-morrow.
Nor mourn o'er the records of national sorrow,
But if you must study, oh study to lose,
In this day's enjoyment the thought of to-morrow.
144
ODE XII. MISS PUFF.
Nolis longa feræ bella Numantiæ.
To Horace in Rome.
Immortal Flaccus, on my soul,
Well might you think it passing droll,
Were I to start the rival of your glory;
Ape in my odes your playful verse,
Affect your satire, keen and terse,
Or grace with kings and chiefs my classic story!
Well might you think it passing droll,
Were I to start the rival of your glory;
Ape in my odes your playful verse,
Affect your satire, keen and terse,
Or grace with kings and chiefs my classic story!
You, mighty minstrel, are at home
Chaunting the civil wars of Rome,
The praises of Augustus or Mæcenas:
My humble Muse in London tells,
Of civil wars 'twixt beaus and belles,
Or burns for thee, Miss Puff, the City Venus.
Chaunting the civil wars of Rome,
The praises of Augustus or Mæcenas:
145
Of civil wars 'twixt beaus and belles,
Or burns for thee, Miss Puff, the City Venus.
That eye I sing, whose ambush-play
Kills while it looks another way,
That voice so true to false and vulgar grammar,
That breast I know not where to find,
That graceful curvature behind,
That wealth her father conquer'd with his hammer.
Kills while it looks another way,
That voice so true to false and vulgar grammar,
That breast I know not where to find,
That graceful curvature behind,
That wealth her father conquer'd with his hammer.
When at my Lord Mayor's ball she dines,
In gold and carving how she shines,
Or like an Ignis Fatuus cuts her capers!
Ah me! in vain I look and sigh,
Some fool will own that goosberry eye,
And make her gold a nostrum for the vapours.
In gold and carving how she shines,
Or like an Ignis Fatuus cuts her capers!
Ah me! in vain I look and sigh,
Some fool will own that goosberry eye,
And make her gold a nostrum for the vapours.
Tho' now in Laurence-Pountney-Lane,
The cruel Syren holds her reign,
Unseen, unnotic'd, through her spatter'd casement,
Soon blazing forth in Russell Square,
The gilded monster shall be there,
A fruitful theme of laughter and amazement.
The cruel Syren holds her reign,
Unseen, unnotic'd, through her spatter'd casement,
146
The gilded monster shall be there,
A fruitful theme of laughter and amazement.
147
ODE XIII. The STOCK JOBBER'S LAMENT.
Ille et nefasto te posuit die.
O fatal Omnium, wicked was his noddle,
Who first created (omen of ill luck)
Thee, doomed to make thy holder almost waddle,
And turn a green Goose, to a limping Duck.
Who first created (omen of ill luck)
Thee, doomed to make thy holder almost waddle,
And turn a green Goose, to a limping Duck.
Napoleon, who with me has play'd the Devil,
Has doubtless acted it with many more,
In midnight massacres disposed to revel,
Or poison soldiers upon Jaffa's shore.
Has doubtless acted it with many more,
In midnight massacres disposed to revel,
Or poison soldiers upon Jaffa's shore.
All other crimes I could forgive thee, Boney,
But this exceeds the blackest in degree;
'Tis murderous sacrilege to take my money,
For money is both life and soul to me.
But this exceeds the blackest in degree;
'Tis murderous sacrilege to take my money,
For money is both life and soul to me.
148
We cannot all of us be always winners,
Bulls will hold on when markets mock their art;
And disappointed Bears, tho' cunning sinners,
Sometimes hold off, when prices upward start.
Bulls will hold on when markets mock their art;
And disappointed Bears, tho' cunning sinners,
Sometimes hold off, when prices upward start.
Fortune takes one behind her on a pillion;
Another whom to-day she tumbles down,
To-morrow she may bless with half a million,
And leave the first with scarcely half a crown.
Another whom to-day she tumbles down,
To-morrow she may bless with half a million,
And leave the first with scarcely half a crown.
How narrow my escape from utter ruin!
On the black board I thought to see my name,
Where every sneering brother Bull or Bruin,
Might read at once my losses and my shame.
On the black board I thought to see my name,
Where every sneering brother Bull or Bruin,
Might read at once my losses and my shame.
There future Ducks who in hot water dabble,
Chatter of leagues and wars in sounds confused:
Others of Long Annuities will gabble,
Or prate of my appropriate Fund—Reduced.
Chatter of leagues and wars in sounds confused:
Others of Long Annuities will gabble,
Or prate of my appropriate Fund—Reduced.
But what a sudden truce to their debating,
When the commissioners are served with stock!
Then Bulls and Bears, no more each other baiting,
Round a new pivot clamorously flock.
When the commissioners are served with stock!
Then Bulls and Bears, no more each other baiting,
Round a new pivot clamorously flock.
149
Three headed Cerberus stands mute with wonder,
To find his roar excell'd by human tongues,
With lifted hands, all bellowing like thunder,
A fleet of fingers in a storm of lungs.
To find his roar excell'd by human tongues,
With lifted hands, all bellowing like thunder,
A fleet of fingers in a storm of lungs.
Rise from the shades, old Orpheus, with thy fiddle,
To quell this row among the biped cattle;
Bid Bulls with dancing Bears lead down the middle,
So shall their tongues and heels in concert rattle.
To quell this row among the biped cattle;
Bid Bulls with dancing Bears lead down the middle,
So shall their tongues and heels in concert rattle.
150
ODE XIV.
[Ah me! on his wide-waving pinions]
Eheu! fugaces, Posthume, Posthume.
To any Great Man.
Ah me! on his wide-waving pinions,
Time carries us on day by day,
And downwards to Pluto's dominions
We mortals are posting away.
Time carries us on day by day,
And downwards to Pluto's dominions
We mortals are posting away.
Not Huntingdon, cleansed from his errors,
And dubb'd by diploma S. S.
Has yet taught the monarch of terrors
To dine on one mouthful the less.
And dubb'd by diploma S. S.
Has yet taught the monarch of terrors
To dine on one mouthful the less.
Sage Solomon's Gilead potion
No chronic disease can assuage;
O Gowland, how vain is thy lotion,
To blot out the wrinkles of age!
No chronic disease can assuage;
O Gowland, how vain is thy lotion,
To blot out the wrinkles of age!
151
Whole hecatombs, vainly we proffer
To hell's unappeasable chief,
Old Iron-cheek laughs at the offer,
And swallows down us and our beef!
To hell's unappeasable chief,
Old Iron-cheek laughs at the offer,
And swallows down us and our beef!
We all in one pinnace are rowing,
The haven we seek is the grave;
The Stygian waters are flowing,
Alike for the monarch and slave.
The haven we seek is the grave;
The Stygian waters are flowing,
Alike for the monarch and slave.
We shun the rude billows of Ocean,
We shrink from the wind and the rain,
We fly from the battle's commotion,
And dodge the grim serjeant in vain.
We shrink from the wind and the rain,
We fly from the battle's commotion,
And dodge the grim serjeant in vain.
The bourn we have all such a dread of
We quickly must visit below,
And talk with the heroes we read of
In Lyttleton, Lucian, and Rowe.
We quickly must visit below,
And talk with the heroes we read of
In Lyttleton, Lucian, and Rowe.
Good bye to your farm and your stables,
Farewell to your liveried train;
Your well-jointur'd widow in sables,
Shall mourn like the twice mated Dane.
Farewell to your liveried train;
Your well-jointur'd widow in sables,
Shall mourn like the twice mated Dane.
152
That nodding plantation to-morrow
For some other owner shall bloom,
The yew tree alone in mute sorrow
Shall sullenly wave o'er your tomb.
For some other owner shall bloom,
The yew tree alone in mute sorrow
Shall sullenly wave o'er your tomb.
This house, when it boasts a new dweller,
Shall bid thrifty prudence farewell;
Your son, with the keys of the cellar,
Shall tinkle your funeral knell.
Shall bid thrifty prudence farewell;
Your son, with the keys of the cellar,
Shall tinkle your funeral knell.
Your claret shall flow like a river,
Your old bottled port set adrift,
Shall drown every thought of the giver
In frolicksome love of the gift.
Your old bottled port set adrift,
Shall drown every thought of the giver
In frolicksome love of the gift.
153
ODE XV. NEW BUILDINGS.
Jam pauca aratro jugera regia.
Saint
George's Fields are fields no more,
The trowel supersedes the plough;
Huge inundated swamps of yore,
Are changed to civic villas now.
The trowel supersedes the plough;
Huge inundated swamps of yore,
Are changed to civic villas now.
The builder's plank, the mason's hod,
Wide, and more wide extending still,
Usurp the violated sod,
From Lambeth Marsh, to Balaam Hill.
Wide, and more wide extending still,
Usurp the violated sod,
From Lambeth Marsh, to Balaam Hill.
Pert poplars, yew trees, water tubs,
No more at Clapham meet the eye,
But velvet lawns, Acacian shrubs,
With perfume greet the passer by.
No more at Clapham meet the eye,
But velvet lawns, Acacian shrubs,
With perfume greet the passer by.
154
Thy carpets, Persia, deck our floors,
Chintz curtains shade the polish'd pane,
Virandas guard the darken'd doors,
Where dunning Phœbus knocks in vain.
Chintz curtains shade the polish'd pane,
Virandas guard the darken'd doors,
Where dunning Phœbus knocks in vain.
Not thus acquir'd was Gresham's hoard,
Who founded London's mart of trade;
Not such thy life, Grimalkin's lord,
Who Bow's recalling peal obey'd.
Who founded London's mart of trade;
Not such thy life, Grimalkin's lord,
Who Bow's recalling peal obey'd.
In Mark or Mincing Lane confin'd,
In cheerful toil they pass'd the hours;
'Twas theirs to leave their wealth behind,
To lavish, while we live, is ours.
In cheerful toil they pass'd the hours;
'Twas theirs to leave their wealth behind,
To lavish, while we live, is ours.
They gave no treats to thankless kings;
Many their gains, their wants were few;
They built no house with spacious wings,
To give their riches pinions too.
Many their gains, their wants were few;
They built no house with spacious wings,
To give their riches pinions too.
Yet sometimes leaving in the lurch
Sons, to luxurious folly prone,
Their funds rebuilt the parish church—
Oh! pious waste, to us unknown.
Sons, to luxurious folly prone,
Their funds rebuilt the parish church—
Oh! pious waste, to us unknown.
155
We from our circle never roam,
Nor ape our sires' eccentric sins;
Our charity begins at home,
And mostly ends where it begins.
Nor ape our sires' eccentric sins;
Our charity begins at home,
And mostly ends where it begins.
156
ODE XVI. WIT ON THE WING.
Otium Divos rogat in patenti.
To George Colman the Younger.
The youth, from his indentures freed,
Who mounts as ride the winged steed,
The muses' hunt to follow;
With terror eyes the yawning pit,
And for a modicum of wit
Petitions great Apollo.
Who mounts as ride the winged steed,
The muses' hunt to follow;
With terror eyes the yawning pit,
And for a modicum of wit
Petitions great Apollo.
For wit the quarto-building wight
Invokes the Gods; the jilt in spite
Eludes the man of letters.
Wit thro' the wire-wove margin glides,
And all the gilded pomp derides
Of red morocco fetters.
Invokes the Gods; the jilt in spite
Eludes the man of letters.
Wit thro' the wire-wove margin glides,
And all the gilded pomp derides
Of red morocco fetters.
157
Vain is the smart port-folio set,
The costly inkstand, black as jet,
The desk of polish'd level;
The well-shorn pens to use at will:—
'Tis no great task to cut a quill—
To cut a joke's the devil!
The costly inkstand, black as jet,
The desk of polish'd level;
The well-shorn pens to use at will:—
'Tis no great task to cut a quill—
To cut a joke's the devil!
Happy, for rural business fit,
Who merely tills his mother wit,
In humble life he settles;
Unskill'd in repartee to shine,
He ne'er exclaims, “descend, ye nine!”
But when he plays at skittles.
Who merely tills his mother wit,
In humble life he settles;
Unskill'd in repartee to shine,
He ne'er exclaims, “descend, ye nine!”
But when he plays at skittles.
They who neglect their proper home
To dig for ore in Greece or Rome,
Are poor Quixotic Vandals;
'Twas well enough in needy Goths,
But why should we, like foolish moths,
Buzz round the Roman candles?
To dig for ore in Greece or Rome,
Are poor Quixotic Vandals;
'Twas well enough in needy Goths,
But why should we, like foolish moths,
Buzz round the Roman candles?
158
Care swarms in rivers, roads, and bogs,
It's plagues spring up like Pharaoh's frogs,
Too numerous to bury;
It roams through London streets at large,
And now bestrides a Lord Mayor's barge,
And now a Vauxhall wherry.
It's plagues spring up like Pharaoh's frogs,
Too numerous to bury;
It roams through London streets at large,
And now bestrides a Lord Mayor's barge,
And now a Vauxhall wherry.
The man who no vertigo feels,
When borne aloft on Fortune's wheels,
But at their motion titters;
Pitying the sons of care and strife,
Enjoys the present sweets of life,
Nor heeds its future bitters.
When borne aloft on Fortune's wheels,
But at their motion titters;
Pitying the sons of care and strife,
Enjoys the present sweets of life,
Nor heeds its future bitters.
Poor Tobin died, alas! too soon,
Ere with chaste ray his Honey Moon
Had shone to glad the nation:
Others, I will not mention who,
For many a year may (entre nous)
Outlive their own damnation.
Ere with chaste ray his Honey Moon
Had shone to glad the nation:
Others, I will not mention who,
For many a year may (entre nous)
Outlive their own damnation.
159
Who creep in prose, or soar in rhyme,
Alike must bow the knee to Time,
From Massinger to Murphy;
And all who flit on Lethe's brink,
Too weak to swim, alas! must sink,
From Davenant to Durfey.
Alike must bow the knee to Time,
From Massinger to Murphy;
And all who flit on Lethe's brink,
Too weak to swim, alas! must sink,
From Davenant to Durfey.
Your rival muses, like two wives,
Assail your pate, and while each strives
To win you to her quarrel,
Like Garrick painted by Sir Jos,
You stand between them, at a loss
On which to weave the laurel.
Assail your pate, and while each strives
To win you to her quarrel,
Like Garrick painted by Sir Jos,
You stand between them, at a loss
On which to weave the laurel.
My Muse is of the ostrich sort,
Her eggs of fortune's gale the sport,
She in the sand conceals 'em:
By no intrusive wanderer found,
'Till watchman Phœbus walks his round,
And with his lamp reveals 'em.
Her eggs of fortune's gale the sport,
She in the sand conceals 'em:
By no intrusive wanderer found,
'Till watchman Phœbus walks his round,
And with his lamp reveals 'em.
160
But should the god's revealing ray
Destroy her fragile web to-day,
She'll spin again to morrow;
These trifles ne'er her mind annoy,
Who never knew a parent's joy,
Ne'er felt a parent's sorrow.
Destroy her fragile web to-day,
She'll spin again to morrow;
These trifles ne'er her mind annoy,
Who never knew a parent's joy,
Ne'er felt a parent's sorrow.
161
ODE XVII. PENNY WISE AND POUND FOOLISH.
Cur me querelis exanimas tuis.
Why plague me to death with your sighs?
Why mope you thus froward and mulish?
Your Brother, your friend Pennywise
Will never survive his Poundfoolish.
Why mope you thus froward and mulish?
Your Brother, your friend Pennywise
Will never survive his Poundfoolish.
You lose in adventure your gold,
Whilst I half commissions am rich in;
I freeze in the parlour with cold,
You waste all the coals in the kitchen.
Whilst I half commissions am rich in;
I freeze in the parlour with cold,
You waste all the coals in the kitchen.
So firm our affection, so true,
So constant, or losing or winning,
The blow that demolishes you
Will set all my farthings a spinning.
So constant, or losing or winning,
The blow that demolishes you
Will set all my farthings a spinning.
162
How complex the purse we have spun!
If e'er Liberality sever
The close twisted thread of the one,
The other is ruin'd for ever.
If e'er Liberality sever
The close twisted thread of the one,
The other is ruin'd for ever.
If fever assail me, for thee
Dog cheap with the evil I'll wrestle;
I'll spurn Doctor Bailey to fee
Some second rate knight of the pestle.
Dog cheap with the evil I'll wrestle;
I'll spurn Doctor Bailey to fee
Some second rate knight of the pestle.
Our mother, high wages to save,
Engaged for a nurse a cheap dawdle,
Who hurried her off to the grave,
By giving her gruel for cawdle.
Engaged for a nurse a cheap dawdle,
Who hurried her off to the grave,
By giving her gruel for cawdle.
When O. P.s set up a hubbub,
We did not each other as foes treat,
I pack'd off the beefeater's club,
And you rais'd the pillars in Bow Street.
We did not each other as foes treat,
I pack'd off the beefeater's club,
And you rais'd the pillars in Bow Street.
Last week I bespoke me a hearse,
Self Interest whisper'd—Self murder;
But Avarice lurk'd in my purse,
And, lucky escape! overheard her.
Self Interest whisper'd—Self murder;
But Avarice lurk'd in my purse,
And, lucky escape! overheard her.
163
Our bed is a second-hand tent;
Away with the cushions of comfort!
Do you daub the house with cement,
And I'll burn a coal to Count Rumford.
Away with the cushions of comfort!
Do you daub the house with cement,
And I'll burn a coal to Count Rumford.
164
ODE XVIII. THE UNANSWERABLE QUERY.
Non ebur, neque aureum.
Sage elephant, thou'rt safe—I hold
No ivory, save one tooth-pick case,
My paper boasts no edge of gold;
My stationer is Henry Hase.
No ivory, save one tooth-pick case,
My paper boasts no edge of gold;
My stationer is Henry Hase.
My stucco is of Gallic grey,
My cornices from gilt are free;
My pillars spurn the gaudy sway
Of antichristian porphyry.
My cornices from gilt are free;
My pillars spurn the gaudy sway
Of antichristian porphyry.
I boast no heaps of sordid gain,
No plunder'd heirs my fraud bemoan;
I bear no golden fleece from Spain,
To patch a Joseph of my own.
No plunder'd heirs my fraud bemoan;
I bear no golden fleece from Spain,
To patch a Joseph of my own.
165
Yet honour and the liberal arts
To Fashion's dome my steps invite;
And when the God of Day departs,
I kiss the Muse by Dian's light.
To Fashion's dome my steps invite;
And when the God of Day departs,
I kiss the Muse by Dian's light.
Through life's low vale I take my way,
From wealthy friends no wealth I borrow,
Content to see the passing day
So used as not to mar the morrow.
From wealthy friends no wealth I borrow,
Content to see the passing day
So used as not to mar the morrow.
Whilst Avarice counts his bags of gold,
And Mammon's dome salutes the sight,
New moons succeed the waning old,
Day urges day with ceaseless flight.
And Mammon's dome salutes the sight,
New moons succeed the waning old,
Day urges day with ceaseless flight.
See towering o'er Threadneedle Street
A mausoleum, rais'd by Soane,
Where dutiful directors meet,
Thy loss, dead bullion, to bemoan.
A mausoleum, rais'd by Soane,
Where dutiful directors meet,
Thy loss, dead bullion, to bemoan.
The mansion swells behind, before,
Old Lothbury laments in vain:
The saint who lost his skin of yore,
Now mourns the loss of half his lane.
Old Lothbury laments in vain:
The saint who lost his skin of yore,
Now mourns the loss of half his lane.
166
Oh! say what means this deafening din,
A thousand Babel voices shout;
Bears leagued with bulls rush roaring in,
And limping lame ducks waddle out.
A thousand Babel voices shout;
Bears leagued with bulls rush roaring in,
And limping lame ducks waddle out.
Hence speculation upward springs,
Nor heeds the law that rules the ball,
Who mounts aloft on paper wings,
But mounts, like Icarus, to fall.
Nor heeds the law that rules the ball,
Who mounts aloft on paper wings,
But mounts, like Icarus, to fall.
Earth labours with a motley freight,
From Gallia's king to Afric's slave;
But soon or late impartial fate
Bestows on all an equal grave.
From Gallia's king to Afric's slave;
But soon or late impartial fate
Bestows on all an equal grave.
To bear poor souls to Pluto's tribe,
One doit is Charon's modest gain,—
Ten thousand pounds will never bribe
The rogue to row us back again!
One doit is Charon's modest gain,—
Ten thousand pounds will never bribe
The rogue to row us back again!
In earth our splendour to enshrine,
Like sightless moles, we downward toil;
For this, pale Avarice digs the mine,
And ruddy Labour ploughs the soil.
Like sightless moles, we downward toil;
For this, pale Avarice digs the mine,
And ruddy Labour ploughs the soil.
167
Ye monarchs, doom'd at last to die,
Where now is all your golden store?
Where now—but, if you won't reply,
'Twere waste of words to ask you more.
Where now is all your golden store?
Where now—but, if you won't reply,
'Twere waste of words to ask you more.
168
ODE XIX. COBBETT.
Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibus.
Where halts the Richmond coach to bait,
With ears erect and mouth dilate,
(Believe it future ages)
I saw the Naiads quit the Thames,
Fishers their nets, and boys their games,
To dive in Cobbett's pages.
With ears erect and mouth dilate,
(Believe it future ages)
I saw the Naiads quit the Thames,
Fishers their nets, and boys their games,
To dive in Cobbett's pages.
Cobbett, huzza! I burn! I rave!
Laws, locks, and Lincoln gaol I brave;
Spare, Anarch lov'd yet dreaded,
The bard who hails you tumult's god,
And lauds your pen, like Hermes' rod,
Gall-tipp'd and serpent-headed.
Laws, locks, and Lincoln gaol I brave;
Spare, Anarch lov'd yet dreaded,
The bard who hails you tumult's god,
And lauds your pen, like Hermes' rod,
Gall-tipp'd and serpent-headed.
169
With yours, his own, and Horne Tooke's tongues,
The Baronet's exhaustless lungs,
The dog of hell outwarble:
While you his Gorgon vipers wield,
Back on your master turn the shield,
And change his heart to marble.
The Baronet's exhaustless lungs,
The dog of hell outwarble:
While you his Gorgon vipers wield,
Back on your master turn the shield,
And change his heart to marble.
The cat o' nine tails you abuse,
And billingsgate each classic muse;
Henceforth another cue get:
The assailant now the Nine assail,
Each muse contributing a tail,
To whip you into Newgate.
And billingsgate each classic muse;
Henceforth another cue get:
The assailant now the Nine assail,
Each muse contributing a tail,
To whip you into Newgate.
When Jacobins, in reason's trance,
Ruled, mob on mob, devoted France,
Reacting on reaction;
You baffled, tooth and nail for law,
And hid beneath the lion's paw,
The cloven foot of faction.
Ruled, mob on mob, devoted France,
Reacting on reaction;
You baffled, tooth and nail for law,
And hid beneath the lion's paw,
The cloven foot of faction.
170
Hail, Botley Bifrons! sinuous eel!
How shall the Muse your course reveal?
In what Pindarics word it?
Round like a weathercock you flit,
As interest veers, now puffing Pitt,
And now inflating Burdett.
How shall the Muse your course reveal?
In what Pindarics word it?
Round like a weathercock you flit,
As interest veers, now puffing Pitt,
And now inflating Burdett.
E'en Windham, chivalrous no more,
In your hot water dipp'd his oar,
And let your torrent turn him;
He hymn'd your worth, your virtues sung,
And lick'd, with metaphysic tongue,
The foot ordain'd to spurn him.
In your hot water dipp'd his oar,
And let your torrent turn him;
He hymn'd your worth, your virtues sung,
And lick'd, with metaphysic tongue,
The foot ordain'd to spurn him.
171
ODE XX. THE LYRICAL LACKEY.
Non usitatâ nec tenui ferar.
Stand clear! and let a poet fly:
On this wing lyric,
That satyric,
I'll mount, like Garnerin, the sky,
Nor mope in Grub Street garret:
Though lowly born, I'll fear discard,
My polish'd odes
To gay abodes
Shall bowl me, like a merry bard,
To sing and tipple claret.
On this wing lyric,
That satyric,
I'll mount, like Garnerin, the sky,
Nor mope in Grub Street garret:
Though lowly born, I'll fear discard,
My polish'd odes
To gay abodes
Shall bowl me, like a merry bard,
To sing and tipple claret.
172
Enroll'd among the black leg race,
No longer man,
A milk-white swan,
Aloft my airy course I trace,
And mount o'er London city—
On wings of foolscap, wire-wove, glaz'd,
Thro' margin wide,
Serene I glide,
Whilst long-ear'd citizens amazed,
Cry “bravo” at my ditty.
No longer man,
A milk-white swan,
Aloft my airy course I trace,
And mount o'er London city—
On wings of foolscap, wire-wove, glaz'd,
Thro' margin wide,
Serene I glide,
Whilst long-ear'd citizens amazed,
Cry “bravo” at my ditty.
Trotting thro' Pindus flow'ry path,
In waltzes, reels,
I'll shake my heels,
I'll dip at Brighton, sip at Bath,
And doff my suit of sables—
Tall Tully of a Spouting Club,
I'll mimic Pitt
In all but wit,
And cut the Diogenic tub,
For Alexandrine tables.
In waltzes, reels,
I'll shake my heels,
I'll dip at Brighton, sip at Bath,
And doff my suit of sables—
Tall Tully of a Spouting Club,
I'll mimic Pitt
In all but wit,
And cut the Diogenic tub,
For Alexandrine tables.
173
Tho' all the while my proper self
Is snug at home,
My pen shall roam
A modish tour in quest of pelf,
And scorning critic cavils,
I'll visit Egypt, Florence, Greece,
And then return,
Thro' Basle and Berne,
The London Booksellers to fleece,
And sell John Bull my travels.
Is snug at home,
My pen shall roam
A modish tour in quest of pelf,
And scorning critic cavils,
I'll visit Egypt, Florence, Greece,
And then return,
Thro' Basle and Berne,
The London Booksellers to fleece,
And sell John Bull my travels.
Of epics, I'll compose a few;
The vile reviews,
I'll ne'er peruse;
I'll edit bards I never knew:
I'll catch at all commissions:
Like Harlequin, tho' far more plump,
My tricks I'll play,
Then hey! away!
Bounce at a single leap, I'll jump
Thro' half a score editions!
The vile reviews,
I'll ne'er peruse;
I'll edit bards I never knew:
I'll catch at all commissions:
Like Harlequin, tho' far more plump,
My tricks I'll play,
Then hey! away!
Bounce at a single leap, I'll jump
Thro' half a score editions!
END OP VOL. I.
| Horace in London | |