The Works of Jonathan Swift ...

O may the fates thy life prolong!
Our country then can dread no wrong:
In thy great care we place our trust,
Because thou'rt great, and good, and just:
Thy breast unshaken can oppose
Our private and our public foes:
The latent wiles and tricks of state
Your wisdom can with ease defeat;
When power in all its pomp appears,
It falls before thy rev'rend years,
And willingly resigns its place
To something nobler in thy face.
When once the fierce pursuing Gaul
Had drawn his sword for Marius' fall,
The godlike hero with a frown
Struck all his rage and malice down;
Then how can we dread William Wood,
If by thy presence he's withstood?
Where wisdom stands to keep the field,
In vain he brings his brazen shield;
Though like the sibyl's priest he comes,
With furious din of brazen drums,
The force of thy superior voice

Shall strike him dumb and quell their noise.

PUNCH'S PETITION TO THE LADIES. Quid nou mortalia pectora cogis.

Auri sacra fames?

FAIR ones who do all hearts command,
And gently sway with fan in hand
Your favorite-Punch a suppliant falls,
And humbly for assistance calls;
He humbly calls and begs you'll stop
The gothic rage of Vander Hop,
Wh' invades without pretence and right,
Or any law but that of might,

Our Pigmy land- and treats our kings
Like paltry idle wooden things;

Has beat our dancers out of doors,
And call'd our chastest virgins whores;
He has not left our queen a rag on,
Has forced away our George and Dragon,
Has broke our wires, nor was he civil
To doctor Faustus nor the devil;
E'en us he hurried with full rage,
Most hoarsely squalling off the stage;
And faith our fright was very great
To see a minister of state,
Arm'd with power and fury come

We fear'd, as I am sure we had reason,
An accusation of high treason;

Till, starting up, says Banamiere,
"Treason, my friends, we need not fear,
For 'gainst the Brass we used no power,
Nor strove to save the chancellor.1
Nor did we show the least affection

To Rochford or the Meath election;
Nor did we sing, Machugh he means.''
"You villain, I'll dash out your brains.
'Tis no affair of state which brings
Me here or business of the king's;
I'm come to seize you all as debtors,
And bind you fast in iron fetters,
From sight of every friend in town,
Till fifty pound's to me paid down."
Fifty?"quoth I, "a devilish sum;
But stay till the brass farthings come,
Then we shall all be rich as Jews,
From castle down to lowest stews:
That sum shall to you then be told,
Though now we cannot furnish gold."
Quoth he, "Thou vile mis-shapen beast,
Thou knave, am I become thy jest?
And dost thou think that I am come
To carry nought but farthings home?
Thou fool, I ne'er do things by halves,
Farthings are made for Irish slaves;
No brass for me, it must be gold,
Or fifty pounds in silver told,
That can by any means obtain
Freedom for thee and for thy train."
"Votre très humble serviteur,
I'm not in jest," said I, "I'm sure;
But from the bottom of my belly,
I do in sober sadness tell you,
I thought it was good reasoning
For us fictitious men to bring

Brass counters made by William Wood,
Intrinsic as we flesh and blood;
Then since we are but mimic men,

Pray let us pay in mimic coin."

Quoth he, Thou lovest, Punch, to prate,
And could'st for ever hold debate;

But think'st thou I have nought to do
But to stand prating thus with you?
Therefore to stop your noisy parley,
I do at once assure you fairly
That not a puppet of you all
Shall stir a step without this wall,

Lord-chancellor Middleton, against whom a vote of censure passed in the

Nor merryandrew beat thy drum,
Until you pay the foresaid sum."
Then marching off with swiftest race
To write despatches for his grace,
The revel-master left the room,
And us condemn'd to fatal doom.
Now, fair ones, if e'er I found grace
Or if my jokes did ever please,
Use all your interest with your sec
(They say he's at the ladies' beck);
And though he thinks as much of gold
As ever Midas did of old,

Your charms I'm sure can never fail,
Your eyes must influence, must prevail;
At your command he'll set us free,
Let us to you owe liberty.

Get us a licence now to play,

And we'll in duty ever pray.

BALLAD.

To the tune of Commons and Peers.

A WONDERFUL age

Is now on the stage:

I'll sing you a song if I can,
How modern Whigs

Dance forty-one jigs,2

But God bless our gracious queen Anne.

II.

The kirk with applause

Is establish'd by laws

As the orthodox church of the nation;

The bishops do own

It's as good as their own;

And this, sir, is call'd moderation.

III.

It's no riddle now

To let you see how

A church by oppression may speed;
Nor is't banter or jest,

That the kirk faith is best

On the other side of the Tweed.

IV.

For no soil can suit

With every fruit;

'Abridged from secretary, rhythmi gratia.

We fear'd, as I am sure we had reason,
An accusation of high treason;

Till, starting up, says Banamiere,

Treason, my friends, we need not fear,
For 'gainst the Brass we used no power,
Nor strove to save the chancellor.'

Nor did we show the least affection
To Rochford or the Meath election;
Nor did we sing, Machugh he means.""
"You villain, I'll dash out your brains.
"Tis no affair of state which brings
Me here - or business of the king's;
I'm come to seize you all as debtors,
And bind you fast in iron fetters,
From sight of every friend in town,
Till fifty pound's to me paid down."
"Fifty?"quoth I, a devilish sum;
But stay till the brass farthings come,
Then we shall all be rich as Jews,
From castle down to lowest stews:
That sum shall to you then be told,
Though now we cannot furnish gold."
Quoth he, "Thou vile mis-shapen beast,
Thou knave, am I become thy jest?
And dost thou think that I am come
To carry nought but farthings home?
Thou fool, I ne'er do things by halves,
Farthings are made for Irish slaves;
No brass for me, it must be gold,
Or fifty pounds in silver told,
That can by any means obtain
Freedom for thee and for thy train."
"Votre très humble serviteur,
I'm not in jest," said I, "I'm sure;
But from the bottom of my belly,
I do in sober sadness tell you,
I thought it was good reasoning
For us fictitious men to bring

Brass counters made by William Wood,
Intrinsic as we flesh and blood;

Then since we are but mimic men,

Pray let us pay in mimic coin."

Quoth he, Thou lovest, Punch, to prate,

And could'st for ever hold debate;

But think'st thou I have nought to do

But to stand prating thus with you?
Therefore to stop your noisy parley,
I do at once assure you fairly
That not a puppet of you all

Shall stir a step without this wall,

'Lord-chancellor Middleton, against whom a vote of censure passed in the