Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/154

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144
SWIFT’S POEMS

My carpenter swears that he'll hack and he'll hew sick;
An officer's lady, I'm told, is tattoo sick;
I'm afraid that the line thirty-four you will view sick.
Lord; I could write a dozen more;
You see, I've mounted thirty-four.





EPIGRAM,


ON THE BUSTS[1] IN RICHMOND HERMITAGE. 1732.


"Sic siti lætantur docti."


WITH honour thus by Carolina plac'd,
How are these venerable bustoes grac'd!
O queen, with more than regal title crown'd,
For love of arts and piety renown'd!
How do the friends of virtue joy to see
Her darling sons exalted thus by thee!
Nought to their fame can now be added more,
Rever'd by her whom all mankind adore.


ANOTHER.


LEWIS the living learned fed,
And rais'd the scientifick head:
Our frugal queen, to save her meat,
Exalts the heads that cannot eat.

A Con-