Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/382

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370
SWIFT'S POEMS.

But, as he climb'd to grasp the crown,
She knock'd him with the sceptre down!
He tumbled in the gulf profound;
There doom'd to whirl an endless round.
Possession's load was grown so great,
He sunk beneath the cumbrous weight:
And, as he now expiring lay,
Flocks every ominous bird of prey;
The raven, vulture, owl, and kite,
At once upon his carcase light,
And strip his hide, and pick his bones,
Regardless of his dying groans.





ON CENSURE. 1727.


YE wise, instruct me to endure
An evil, which admits no cure;
Or, how this evil can be born,
Which breeds at once both hate and scorn.
Bare innocence is no support,
When you are try'd in Scandal's court.
Stand high in honour, wealth, or wit:
All others, who inferiour sit,
Conceive themselves in conscience bound
To join, and drag you to the ground.
Your altitude offends the eyes
Of those who want the power to rise.
The world, a willing stander by,
Inclines to aid a specious lie:
Alas! they would not do you wrong;

But all appearances are strong!

Yet