Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 18.djvu/474

460 Nay more, at my divine command, All noxious creatures fled the land. I made both peace and plenty smile. Hibernia was my favourite isle; Now his — for he succeeds to me, Two angels cannot more agree. "His joy is, to relieve the poor; Behold them weekly at his door! His knowledge too, in brightest rays, He like the sun to all conveys, Shows wisdom in a single page, And in one hour instructs an age. When ruin lately stood around Th' enclosures of my sacred ground, He gloriously did interpose, And saved it from invading foes; For this I claim immortal Swift, As my own son, and Heaven's best gift." The Caledonian saint enrag'd, Now closer in dispute engag'd, Essays to prove, by transmigration, The dean is of the Scottish nation; And, to confirm the truth, he chose The loyal soul of great Montrose; "Montrose and he are both the same, They only differ in the name: Both heroes in a righteous cause, Assert their liberties and laws; He's now the same, Montrose was then, But that the sword is turn'd a pen, A pen of so great power, each word Defends beyond the hero's sword." Now words grew high — we can't suppose Immortals ever come to blows. But