"
He seems to have gained little by his early poems, many of which were
directed against the Royal Academicians. One commences:--
"Sons of the brush, I'm here again!
At times a Pindar and Fontaine,
Casting poetic pearl (I fear) to swine!
For, hang me, if my last years odes
Paid rent for lodgings near the gods,
Or put one sprat into this mouth divine."
Sometimes he calls the Academicians, "Sons of Canvas;" sometimes
"Tagrags and bobtails of the sacred brush." He afterwards wrote a
doleful elergy, "The Sorrows of Peter," and seems not to have thought
himself sufficiently patronized, alluding to which he says--
"Much did King Charles our Butler's works admire,
Read them and quoted them from morn to night,
Yet saw the bard in penury expire,
Whose wit had yielded him so much delight."
Wolcott was a little restricted by a due regard for religion or social
decorum. He reminds us of Sterne, often atoning for a transgression by a
tender and elevated sentiment. The following from the "Tales of a Hoy,"
supposed to be told on a voyage from Margate gives a good specimen of
his style--
_Captain Noah._ Oh, I recollect her. Poor Corinna![14] I could cry
for her, Mistress Bliss--a sweet creature! So kind! so lovely! and
so good-natured! She would not hurt a fly! Lord! Lord! tried to
make every body happy.
Pages:
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182