Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 18.djvu/449

Rh Scotch, Irish, English, French unite, With equal int'rest, equal spite; Together mingled in a lump, Do all in one opinion jump; And ev'ry one begins to find The same impression on his mind. A strange event! whom gold incites To blood and quarrels, brass unites: So goldsmiths say, the coarsest stuff Will serve for solder well enough: So by the kettle's loud alarm The bees are gathered to a swarm: So by the brazen trumpet's bluster Troops of all tongues and nations muster: And so the harp of Ireland brings Whole crowds about its brazen strings.

There is a chain let down from Jove, But fasten'd to his throne above, So strong that from the lower end, They say, all human things depend. This chain, as ancient poets hold, When Jove was young, was made of gold. Prometheus once this chain purloin'd, Dissolved, and into money coin'd; Then whips me on a chain of brass: (Venus was bribed to let it pass.) Now while this brazen chain prevail'd, Jove saw that all devotion fail'd; No temple to his godship raised; No sacrifice at altars blazed; Rh