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Article PETER PINDAR TO DR. SAYERS, Page 1 of 2 →
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Peter Pindar To Dr. Sayers,
PETER PINDAR TO DR . SAYERS ,
AUTHOU OF THE DRAMATIC SKETCHES OF ANCIENT N OIITIIEIU . M YTHOLOGY .
I THANK thee , Doctor , for thy Sketches ; Not that a presentation copy ( Gifts at which manya needy Author catches ) Ciimb'd the Parnassus of my garret-lobby , Serving at noon my feasted soul to please , " . At night to purchase bread and cheese . Alas ! I was not quite so cheaply treated . Yet tho' a half crown and a splendid shilling ;
Crept from my flaccid purse unwilling , And all my snvoury'hopes of dinner For lean to-morrow have defeated , . . ' . I thank thee , I repeat it ; ' For by the bargain , faith ! I am a . winner . I ' m sick of Venus and the Graces , They seem to have bespoken places
In every sonnet , ode , and song ; . And with their tedious grimaces Have play'd us off too long . Must every storm from Neptune come ? All thunder from Jove ' s kettle-drum ? And Poets ever with plump Bacchus drink . In their ideal world divine , Unknown to real wine ? '
If that ' s to be the case , I think Apollo and the Nine Had better rot , like ddck-weed , on the brink Of Helicon , where they so oft recline . There ' s not a Poetaster now-a-days But knows the Greek mythology by rote , And with un'bashful finger dares to raise Even Pallas ' under petticoat ..
I ' m sick of Milton . and his Angels , Since Dr . Watts's , and such fancies , On the same track have been to range Hell ' s Broad brimstone walks , aud lime expanses : And , borne on the balloon of love seraphic , Or rather on the greasy wing of traffic , Have seen , how plac'd in order serviceable ,
In velvet caps of amaranth made , Round the blue cloth of Heaven ' s high council-table A club of Angels sit , like Lords of trade , Striving a more than Gordian knot t' untie , The dark arithmetic of trinal unity : While on wet clouds , like dish-clouts hung around * The duck-wing'd cherubs mightily abound , And the nice ears of higher powers to
tickle—Their pennons panting , exultation , Their childish foreheads sweating inspiration , Bright image of an earthly conventicle !) With glowing cheeks , and hair bestuck with palm , Upturn the suet eye , and chaunt th' eternal u . alii .. VOL . V , Y v
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Peter Pindar To Dr. Sayers,
PETER PINDAR TO DR . SAYERS ,
AUTHOU OF THE DRAMATIC SKETCHES OF ANCIENT N OIITIIEIU . M YTHOLOGY .
I THANK thee , Doctor , for thy Sketches ; Not that a presentation copy ( Gifts at which manya needy Author catches ) Ciimb'd the Parnassus of my garret-lobby , Serving at noon my feasted soul to please , " . At night to purchase bread and cheese . Alas ! I was not quite so cheaply treated . Yet tho' a half crown and a splendid shilling ;
Crept from my flaccid purse unwilling , And all my snvoury'hopes of dinner For lean to-morrow have defeated , . . ' . I thank thee , I repeat it ; ' For by the bargain , faith ! I am a . winner . I ' m sick of Venus and the Graces , They seem to have bespoken places
In every sonnet , ode , and song ; . And with their tedious grimaces Have play'd us off too long . Must every storm from Neptune come ? All thunder from Jove ' s kettle-drum ? And Poets ever with plump Bacchus drink . In their ideal world divine , Unknown to real wine ? '
If that ' s to be the case , I think Apollo and the Nine Had better rot , like ddck-weed , on the brink Of Helicon , where they so oft recline . There ' s not a Poetaster now-a-days But knows the Greek mythology by rote , And with un'bashful finger dares to raise Even Pallas ' under petticoat ..
I ' m sick of Milton . and his Angels , Since Dr . Watts's , and such fancies , On the same track have been to range Hell ' s Broad brimstone walks , aud lime expanses : And , borne on the balloon of love seraphic , Or rather on the greasy wing of traffic , Have seen , how plac'd in order serviceable ,
In velvet caps of amaranth made , Round the blue cloth of Heaven ' s high council-table A club of Angels sit , like Lords of trade , Striving a more than Gordian knot t' untie , The dark arithmetic of trinal unity : While on wet clouds , like dish-clouts hung around * The duck-wing'd cherubs mightily abound , And the nice ears of higher powers to
tickle—Their pennons panting , exultation , Their childish foreheads sweating inspiration , Bright image of an earthly conventicle !) With glowing cheeks , and hair bestuck with palm , Upturn the suet eye , and chaunt th' eternal u . alii .. VOL . V , Y v