peat 1m 
SS ees ge 
ODE on-NO ODE. 
By PETER Prinpar, Ef. 
[ See CHRONICLE, Pp: 193-] 
HAT! not a fprig of annual metre, 
_ Neither from 'l'homas nor from Peter 
“Who has fhut up the laureat’s fhop?, 
Alas! « poor Zom’s a-cold,’”’ I fears 
Fof fack “ poor Tom” muft drink fmall-beer, 
And lo!—of that a fcanty drop! 
St. James’s, happy, happy court, 
Where luxury is thought to fport, 
No more his tent fhall Thomas pitch in; 
Can Odes of praife and wifdom cloy ?” 
Shall Czfar’s bard no more enjoy 
The run of mighty Cefar’s kitchen? 
Loud. roar of Helicon the floods, 
Parnaffus fhakes through all his woods, ; 
To think immortal verfe fhould thus be flighted. 
I fee, I fee the God of Lyric fire— 
Drop fuddenly his jaw, and jre— 
I hear, I hear the Mufes {cream affrighted ! 
‘And now I mark the Delphic god 
Prepare to fpeak on this xo Ode! 
Hark to his folemn fpeech: « Alas! alas!” 
(He cries) « fhall profe record the glorious. things 
« Perform’d by glorious queens and kings? 
« ?Tis really fetting gems in brafs.” 
Perchance the royal pair have puk’d with praife, 
So lullabied, like children in the cradle! 
Determin’d now to end the Laureat’s days, 
Who gives Fame’s pap, the glutton! with a ladle, 
Indeed, it is a generous mode of finning, 
Yet fets, unluckily, the world a grinning! 
Perchance (his pow’rs for future actions hoarding) 
George thinks the year boalts nothing worth recording. 
* K2 
