Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 18.djvu/439



RELAND is now our royal care, We lately fix'd our viceroy there: How near was she to be undone, Till pious love inspired her son! What cannot our vicegerent do, As poet and as patriot too? Nor beaten paths be longer traced. No simile shall be begun, With rising or with setting sun; And let the secret head of Nile Be ever banish'd from your isle. When wretched lovers live on air, I beg you'll the chameleon spare; And when you'd make a hero grander, Forget he's like a salamander. You