The Works of Jonathan Swift: Miscellaneous poems

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Страница 328 - In Pope I cannot read a line, But with a Sigh I wish it mine ; When He can in one Couplet fix More Sense than I can do in six ; It gives me such a jealous Fit, I cry
Страница 335 - Here shift the scene, to represent How those I love my death lament. Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay A week, and Arbuthnot a day. St. John himself will scarce forbear To bite his pen and drop a tear. The rest will give a shrug, and cry, " I'm sorry — but we all must die...
Страница 327 - I believe them true: They argue no corrupted mind In him; the fault is in mankind. This maxim more than all the rest Is thought too base for human breast: "In all distresses of our friends We first consult our private ends: While nature, kindly bent to ease us, Points out some circumstance to please us.
Страница 329 - To hear his out-of-fashion wit? But he takes up with younger folks, Who for his wine will bear his jokes. 'Faith he must make his stories shorter, Or change his comrades once a quarter : In half the time he talks them round ; There must another set be found.
Страница 329 - tis hardly understood Which way my death can do them good, Yet thus, methinks, I hear them speak: ' See how the Dean begins to break! Poor gentleman, he droops apace! You plainly find it in his face. That old vertigo in his head Will never leave him, till he's dead. Besides, his memory decays: He recollects not what he says; He cannot call his friends to mind; Forgets the place where last he dined; Plies you with stories o'er and o'er; He told them fifty times before.
Страница 137 - They dance in a round, Cutting capers and ramping; A mercy the ground Did not burst with their stamping.
Страница 339 - LIBERTY was all his cry; for her he stood prepar'd to die; for her he boldly stood alone; for her he oft" expos'd his own. Two kingdoms, just as faction led, had set a price upon his head ; but not a traitor could be found, to sell him for six hundred pound. Had he...
Страница 96 - Box'd in a chair the beau impatient sits, While spouts run clattering o'er the roof by fits, And ever and anon with frightful din The leather sounds, he trembles from within.
Страница 293 - Should to the priest confess their sins ; And thus the pious Wolf begins : — Good father, I must own with shame, That often I have been to blame : I must confess, on Friday last, Wretch that I was ! I broke my fast : But I defy the basest tongue To prove I did my neighbour wrong ; Or ever went to seek my food, By rapine, theft, or thirst of blood.
Страница 95 - tis fair, yet seems to call a coach. The tuck'd-up sempstress walks with hasty strides, While streams run down her oil'd umbrella's sides. Here various kinds, by various fortunes led, Commence acquaintance underneath a shed. Triumphant Tories and desponding Whigs Forget their feuds, and join to save their wigs.

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