Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 1.djvu/440

 To the of.

Obscure in garret vile I lay, And slumbered out the tedious day; Or par'd my nails, or watch'd the cries Of savoury sausages or pies; Or strove, with dexterous art, to hide Chinks in my stockings gaping wide; Or read old authors o'er and o'er, In number hardly half a score; Those, dusty, tattered, full of holes; The rest were gone to purchase coals. In prose I told how , Upon a pinch, the best of meat is; On which I was compelled to dine, While gay  paid for wine. How  cater'd, , pot — Companion boon, discharg'd my shot. How  too the kennel thumps, Converted to a pair of pumps. I told how, with sense Enrich'd me first, and then with pence, And ah! I might with tears relate Poor metamorphos'd [[w:Virgil| fate; Who, having erst adorn'd my leg, Now hangs and rots upon a peg. Unable to dismiss a crowd Of duns importunate and loud: Though pinch'd with hunger, thirst, and cold, I yet disdain'd to have it told. Too