Laughing at the King

Selected Poems

Peter Pindar

• Publisher: Fyfield Books
• Year: 2009
• Print ISBN:
  9781857549379
• eBook ISBN:
  9781847778253
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: European Poetry
• Index: Literature

Reveling in the sycophancy and classist pretensions of England's courts in the late 18th century, this ribald collection of satirical verse specializes in lampooning the public and private lives of the decadent British monarchy. Containing the bitingly controversial social commentary of medical man turned political satirist, Dr. John Wolcott, and penned under the pseudonym of Peter Pindar, this rousing collection pinpoints exactly why Pindar enjoyed great commercial success with his ruthless ridicule of eminent public figures—the favored target being King George III, his vain and materialistic wife, and all of the King's cronies. Including a revealing introduction and comprehensive contextual material, this rediscovery of a remarkable literary catalog hilariously showcases the witty and wicked verse that once scandalized and delighted the denizens of 18th-century London.

The Lousiad

An Heroi-Comic Poem
1785–1795

Prima Syracosio dignata est ludere versu

Nostra, nec erubuit sylvas habitare, Thalia.

Cùm canerem Reges et Prælia, Cynthius aurem

Vellit, et admonuit. Virgil1

I, WHO so lately in my Lyric Lays

Sung ‘to the praise and glory of’ R.A.’s;

And sweetly tuned to Love the melting Line,

With Ovid’s Art, and Sappho’s Warmth divine;

Said (nobly daring), ‘Muse, exalt thy wings,

Love and the Sons of Canvas quit for Kings.’ –

Apollo, laughing at my powers of Song,

Cried, ‘Peter Pindar, prithee hold thy tongue.’

But I, like Poets self-sufficient grown,

Replied, ‘Apollo, prithee hold thy own.’

To the Reader

GENTLE READER,

IT is necessary to inform thee, that his Majesty actually discovered, some time ago, as he sat at table, a Louse on his plate! The emotion occasioned by the unexpected appearance of such a Guest, can be better imagined than described.

An edict was, in consequence, passed for shaving the Cooks, Scullions, &c. and the unfortunate Louse condemned to die.

Such is the foundation of the LOUSTAD. With what degree of merit the Poem is executed, the uncritical as well as critical Reader will decide.

The ingenious Author, who ought to be allowed to know somewhat of the matter, hath been heard privately to declare, that in his opinion the Batrachomyomachia of Homer, the Secchia Rapita of Tassoni, the Lutin of Boileau, the Dispensary of Garth, and the Rape of the Lock of Pope, are not to be compared to it; and to exclaim at the same time, with the modest assurance of an Author:

Cedite, scriptores Romani; cedite, Graii:

Nil ortum in terris Lousiadâ melius.

Which, for the sake of the mere English Reader, is thus beautifully translated:

Roman and Grecian Authors, great and small,

The Author of the LOUSTAD beats you all.

1 [Peter Pindar, who has chosen Thalia, the Muse of Comedy, as his own, begins his comic epic with the opening lines of Virgil’s Sixth Eclogue, often used to preface a poet’s work. Virgil writes that his muse does not blush to live in the obscurity of the greenwood where his earlier verses played on simple matters. If he should turn to things of greater public concern, to sing of battles and the deeds of kings, Apollo, the god of poetry, would admonish him that his gift was for simpler strains than these. Peter Pindar, lacking Virgil’s modesty, suggests ironically that his powers are sufficient to the task of dealing with George III’s ‘battle’ with his cooks.]

from Canto the First. September 1785

THE LOUSE I sing, who, from some head unknown,

Yet born and educated near a Throne,

Dropp’d down (so will’d the dread decree of Fate),

With legs wide sprawling on the Monarch’s plate:

Far from the raptures of a Wife’s embrace;

Far from the gambols of a tender Race,

Whose little feet he taught with care to tread

Amidst the wide Dominions of the Head;

Led them to daily food with fond delight,

And taught the tiny wanderers where to bite;

To hide, to run, advance, or turn their tails,

When hostile Combs attack’d, or vengeful Nails:

Far from those pleasing scenes ordain’d to roam,

Like wise Ulysses, from his native home;

Yet, like that Sage though forced to roam and mourn,

Like him, – alas! not fated to return,

Who, full of rags and glory, saw his Boy2

And Wife3 again, and Dog4 that died for joy.

Down dropp’d the luckless Louse, with fear appall’d,

And wept his Wife and Children as he sprawl’d.

[…]

Now on his legs, amidst a thousand woes,

The Louse, with Judge-like gravity, arose;

He wanted not a motive to entreat him,

Beside the horror that the King might eat him.

The dread of gasping on...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Dedication
• Acknowledgements
• Table of Contents
• Introduction
• A Note On The Text
• Suggestions for Further Reading
• The Lousiad
• Tales of the King
• About the Author
• Copyright