The Poems of Jonathan Swift, D.D Volume I Part 47

VIII. ON SEEING VERSES WRITTEN UPON WINDOWS AT INNS

The sage, who said he should be proud Of windows in his breast,[1]

Because he ne'er a thought allow'd That might not be confest; His window scrawl'd by every rake, His breast again would cover, And fairly bid the devil take The diamond and the lover.

[Footnote 1: See on this "Notes and Queries," 10th S., xii, 497.--_W. E. B._]

IX. ANOTHER

By Satan taught, all conjurors know Your mistress in a gla.s.s to show, And you can do as much: In this the devil and you agree; None e'er made verses worse than he, And thine, I swear, are such.

X. ANOTHER

That love is the devil, I'll prove when required; Those rhymers abundantly show it: They swear that they all by love are inspired, And the devil's a d.a.m.nable poet.

XI. ANOTHER, AT HOLYHEAD [1]

O Neptune! Neptune! must I still Be here detain'd against my will?

Is this your justice, when I'm come Above two hundred miles from home; O'er mountains steep, o'er dusty plains, Half choked with dust, half drown'd with rains, Only your G.o.dship to implore, To let me kiss your other sh.o.r.e?

A boon so small! but I may weep, While you're like Baal, fast asleep.

[Footnote 1: These verses were no doubt written during the Dean's enforced stay at Holyhead while waiting for fair weather. See Swift's Journal of 1727, in Craik's "Life of Swift," vol. ii, and "Prose Works,"

vol. xi.--_W. E. B_.]

TO Ja.n.u.s, ON NEW YEAR'S DAY, 1726

Two-faced Ja.n.u.s,[1] G.o.d of Time!

Be my Phoebus while I rhyme; To oblige your crony Swift, Bring our dame a new year's gift; She has got but half a face; Ja.n.u.s, since thou hast a brace, To my lady once be kind; Give her half thy face behind.

G.o.d of Time, if you be wise, Look not with your future eyes; What imports thy forward sight?

Well, if you could lose it quite.

Can you take delight in viewing This poor Isle's[2] approaching ruin, When thy retrospection vast Sees the glorious ages past?

Happy nation, were we blind, Or had only eyes behind!

Drown your morals, madam cries, I'll have none but forward eyes; Prudes decay'd about may tack, Strain their necks with looking back.

Give me time when coming on; Who regards him when he's gone?

By the Dean though gravely told, New-years help to make me old; Yet I find a new-year's lace Burnishes an old-year's face.

Give me velvet and quadrille, I'll have youth and beauty still.

[Footnote 1: "Matutine pater, seu Jane libentius audis Unde homines operum primos vitaeque labores Inst.i.tuunt."--HOR., _Sat_., ii, vi, 20.]

[Footnote 2: Ireland.--_H_.]

A MOTTO FOR MR. JASON HASARD

WOOLLEN-DRAPER IN DUBLIN, WHOSE SIGN WAS THE GOLDEN FLEECE

Jason, the valiant prince of Greece, From Colchis brought the Golden Fleece; We comb the wool, refine the stuff, For modern Jasons, that's enough.

Oh! could we tame yon watchful dragon,[1]

Old Jason would have less to brag on.

[Footnote 1: England.--_H_.]

TO A FRIEND WHO HAD BEEN MUCH ABUSED IN MANY INVETERATE LIBELS

The greatest monarch may be stabb'd by night And fortune help the murderer in his flight; The vilest ruffian may commit a rape, Yet safe from injured innocence escape; And calumny, by working under ground, Can, unrevenged, the greatest merit wound.

What's to be done? Shall wit and learning choose To live obscure, and have no fame to lose?

By Censure[1] frighted out of Honour's road, Nor dare to use the gifts by Heaven bestow'd?

Or fearless enter in through Virtue's gate, And buy distinction at the dearest rate.

[Footnote 1: See _ante_, p. 160, the poem ent.i.tled "On Censure."--_W. E. B._.]

CATULLUS DE LESBIA[1]

Lesbia for ever on me rails, To talk of me she never fails.

Now, hang me, but for all her art, I find that I have gain'd her heart.

My proof is this: I plainly see, The case is just the same with me; I curse her every hour sincerely, Yet, hang me but I love her dearly.

[Footnote 1: "Lesbia mi dicit semper mala nec tacet unquam De me: Lesbia me dispeream nisi amat.

Quo signo? quia sunt totidem mea: deprecor illam a.s.sidue; verum dispeream nisi amo."

_Catulli Carmina, xcii.--W. E. B._]

ON A CURATE'S COMPLAINT OF HARD DUTY

I marched three miles through scorching sand, With zeal in heart, and notes in hand; I rode four more to Great St. Mary, Using four legs, when two were weary: To three fair virgins I did tie men, In the close bands of pleasing Hymen; I dipp'd two babes in holy water, And purified their mother after.

Within an hour and eke a half, I preach'd three congregations deaf; Where, thundering out, with lungs long-winded, I chopp'd so fast, that few there minded.

My emblem, the laborious sun, Saw all these mighty labours done Before one race of his was run.

All this perform'd by Robert Hewit: What mortal else could e'er go through it!

TO BETTY, THE GRISETTE

Queen of wit and beauty, Betty, Never may the Muse forget ye, How thy face charms every shepherd, Spotted over like a leopard!