Some cry up Haydn, some Mozart, Just as the whim bites; for my part, I do not care a farthing candle For either of them, or for Handel. -- Cannot a man live free and easy, Without admiring Pergolesi? Or thro' the world with comfort go, That never heard of Doctor Blow? So help me God, I hardly have; And yet I eat, and drink, and shave, Like other people, if you watch it, And know no more of Stave or Crotchet, Than did the primitive Peruvians; Or those old ante-queer-Diluvians That lived in the unwash'd world with Tubal, Before that dirty blacksmith Jubal By stroke on anvil, or by summ'at, Found out, to his great surprise, the gamut. I care no more for Cimarosa, Than he did for Salvator Rosa, Being no painter; and bad luck Be mine, if I can bear that Gluck! Old Tycho Brahe, and modern Herschel, Had something in 'em; but who's Purcel? The devil, with his foot so cloven, For aught I care, may take Beethoven; And, if the bargain does not suit, I'll throw him Weber in to boot. There's not the splitting of a splinter To choose 'twixt him last named, and Winter. Of Doctor Pepusch old queen Dido Knew just as much, God knows, as I do. I would not go four miles to visit Sebastian Bach (or Batch, which is it?); No more I would for Bononcini. As for Novello, or Rossini, I shall not say a word to grieve 'em, Because they're living; so I leave 'em. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...KATHLEEN MAVOURNEEN by JULIA CRAWFORD CHERRY TREE IN AUTUMN by MARIE DAVIES WARREN BECKNER A NEW PILGRIMAGE: 30 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 106. THE SUBLIME: 1 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT POEM BY A PERFECTLY FURIOUS ACADEMICIAN by CHARLES WILLIAM SHIRLEY BROOKS AN AUTUMN TRINKET by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |