in the last resort: $ eye regarding earth, planet of his birth: laze about me shine, akes thee still for mine: ret yet unknown, a being of thy own, dent on the brain, es o'er the optic vein ; fountain of the sight, eyes a trembling light; sleeps, but quickly flies, eams, from waking eyes: ice, a painted name, e thy sister fame. 1 e s the weary trav'ller But o'er the afflicted with reeps the broad scythe, on falls the summer's p re's bare visage furrow Muse, what havoc in t Dese are the tyrant's trop hope his last and gre pair and he lodge ever March o'er the ruin'd plain scatt'ring desolation w thee I owe that fatal be to unhappy restless tho thee, what oft I vainly at scorn of fools, by fools thee whatever virtue ows a misfortune, or bec ch were thy rules to be oop not to int'rest, flattel with hired thoughts be m to disdain their merce thy mad vot'ries prate, govern'd thoughts create; youth perversely wilt thou he brisk and gay? nan, thou shouldst scorn to ch by hopes forsook ; ortune's last relief, emitting grief; P But o'er the afflicted with a heavy pace Stoop not to int'rest, flattery, or deceit ; Nor with hired thoughts be thy devotion paid; Learn to disdain their mercenary aid; * What a miserable state of mind must Swift have be when he wrote this! which was owing to the state of depen in which he had always lived from his birth to that time, but little prospect of his being relieved from it. How must this have been to such a proud and generous spirit! g delusion finds. nt broke, and from this hour isionary pow'r; e on my breath depends, whole delusion ends. every peeping fop to j LADY'S IVORY TABLEOK, 1698. poems which displays his strong and . His genius seems to have thrown nd assumed proper and legitimate exs released from his slavish dependence think that your brains' pos'd to th' excrement o power of spittle and a cl ene'er he please to blot then, to heighten the d ap his own nonsense in t e'er expects to hold his Such a book, and such a e be wealthy, and a fool all points the fittest too whom it may be justly s sa gold pencil tipp'd wi rough every part, my owner's heart, fles thus, and quite and as light; "Madam I die without your grace"- shipp'd; d, God knows, I thou when I search'd, and n ay said I," I had it ber, that's a plain case. Mary got me to bed, warm: wever, she stole away m do myself no harm. tumbled and toss'd all ni well think, hardly ever set my eye wink. |