Simkin's Poetry', being newscuttings, 1785-1792 - No. 0011

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[Page 11]

1785. Morning Herald. 16 August

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"on account of this inequitable scrutiny; that he Petitioner is bound by his honour and his engagement to prepare a new Ode for the birth day of her most gracious Ma-
jesty, which he is very desirous of executing with as much poetry, perspicuity, and 
originality, as are universally allowed to have characterised his [lait?] effusion, in honour of the Natal Anniversary of his Royal Master's sacred self; that there are but six
months to come for such a preparation, and that the Petitioner had got no farther yet
than "Hale Muse!" in the first stanza, which very much inclines him to fear he shall not be able to finish the whole in the short period above-mentioned, unless his M---- should be graciously pleased to order some of his Lords of the Bedchamber to assist
him, or should command a termination to the vexatious enquiry now pending. In
humble hopes, that these several considerations would have their due influence with
his M----; the Petitioner concludes with the usual prayer, and signed himself as un-
derneath, &c. &c. &c.
THO. WHARTON, B. D. &c. &c."

Such was the influence of the above admirable appeal on the lympathetic feelings of M----, that the sermon, which we understand was founded upon the text, "Let him keep his tongue from evil, and his lips that they speak no untruth;" and which was not preached by Dr. Prettyman, was entirely neglected, and a message instantly written, honoured by the Sign, Manual, and directed to the office of the Right Hon. Lord Sydney, Secretary for the Home Department, enjoining an immediate redress for Mr. Thomas, and a total suspension of any further proceedings in a measure which (as the energy of royal eloquence expressed it) was of such unexampled injustice, illegality and oppression as that of a scrutiny after a fair poll, and a decided superiority of admitted suffrages. This message conveyed as its solemnity well required by no other person than the honourable young Tommy himself, Secretary to his amazing father, had its due influence with the court; the noble Lord broke his wand; Mr. Delpini executed a Chacone and tried at a Somerset; he grined a grim obedience to the mandate, and calling for pen, ink and paper wrote the following letter to the Editor of the Morning Herald.
"Monsieur,
"On vous requis, you are hereby commandie not to pooblish any more of de Ode Probationarie - mon cher ami, Monsieur George le Roi, says it be ver bad to vex Monsieur le petit Homme avec le grand paunch - Monsieur Wharton, any more vid scrutinee; je vous commande derefore to finise - Que le Roi so it loue! - God save de King! mind vat I say - ou le grand George and le bon Dieu damn votre ame & bodie, vos jambes, & vos pies, for ever and ever - pour jamais.
"Signed,
"DELPINI."
Our readers will perceive that after the combined injunction of such omnipotent authorities, nothing remains for us but to obey and to be silent. The channel of this interesting communication is now dried for-ever - it would be ingratitude in us to complain. We are sufficiently proud of having been the original vehicle of these modern Pindarics to public observation, to intimate a remonstrance or to repine that having done so much we can do no more; and as no fresh supply is, therefore, by the high powers to issue from the present period, we recommend as the best and only consolation for such a disappointment, that every admirer of these inimitable productions may consult them in their revised and collected state, now combining by authority from their primary depot the MORNING HERALD.
FINIS.

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PROBATIONARY ODES
For the LAUREATSHIP.
No. XVII.
IRREGULAR ODE.
By the Marquis of Graham.
I.
HELP! help! I say, Apollo!
To you I call, to you I hollow;
My Muse would fain bring forth;
God of Midwives, come along,
Bring into light my little song,
See how its parent labours with the birth.
My brain! my brain!
What horrid pain!
Come, now prithee come, I say;
Nay, if you won't, then stay away -
Without thy help, I've sung full many a lay.
II.
To lighter themes let other bards resort;
My verse shall tell the glories of the Court.
Behold the Pensioners, a martial band;
Dreadful, with rusty battle-ax in hand -
Quarterly and daily Waiters,
A lustier troop, ye brave Beef-eaters.
Sweepers, Marshals, Wardrobe Bruthers,
Patrician, and Plebeian Ushers;
Ye too, who watch in inner rooms;
Ye Lords, ye Gentlemen, and Grooms;
Oh! careful guard your Royal Master's slumber,
Lest factious flies his sacred face incumber.
But ah! how weak my song!
Crouds still on crouds impetuous rush along;
I see, I see, the motley group appear,
Thurlow in front, and Chandos in the rear;
Each takes the path his various genius guides -
O'er Cabinets this, and that o'er Cooks presides.

III.
At Pimlico and ancient structure stands,
Where Sheffield erst, but Brunswick now commands;
Crown'd with a weathercock that points at will,
To every part but Constitution Hill.
Hence Brunswick peeping at the windows;
Each star-light night,
Looks with delight,
And sees unseen,
And tells the Queen,
What each, who passes out or in, does.
Hence too, when eas'd of faction's dread,
With joy surveys,
The cattle graze,
At half-a-crown a-head -
Views the canal's transparent flood,
Now fill'd with water, now with mud;
Where various seasons, various charms create,
Dogs in the summer swim, and boys in winter skait.

IV.
Oh for the pencil of a Claud Lorain,
Apelles, Austin, Sayer, or Luke the Saint -
What glowing scenes! but, ah, the grant were vain,
I know not how to paint - 
Hail! Royal Park! what various charms are thine -
Thy patent lamps pale Cynthia's rays outshine - 
Thy limes and elms with grace majestic grow,
All in a row;
Thy Mall's smooth walk, and sacred road beside,
Where Treasury Lords by Royal Mandate ride.
Hark! the merry fife and drum,
Hark! of beaus the busy hum;
While in the gloom of evening shade,
Gay wood-nymphs ply their wanton trade;
Ah! nymphs too kind, each vain pursuit give o'er - 
If death should call - you then can walk no more.
See the children rang'd on benches,
See the pretty nurs'ry wenches;
The cows, secur'd by halters, stand
Courting the ruddy milk-maids hand;

 

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