Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/143

Rh Receiv'd from thee profound directions How best to settle their affections. Thus thou, a friend to the distress'd, Didst in thy calling do thy best. But now the Senate (if things hit And thou at Stockbridge wert not bit) Must feel thy eloquence and fire, Approve thy schemes, thy wit admire, Thee with immortal honours crown, While, patriot-like, thou'lt strut and frown. What though by enemies 'tis said, The laurel, which adorns thy head, Must one day come in competition, By virtue of some sly petition: Yet mum for that; hope still the best, Nor let such cares disturb thy rest. Methinks I hear thee loud as trumpet, As bagpipe shrill, or oyster-strumpet; Methinks I see thee, spruce and fine, With coat embroider'd richly shine, And dazzle all the idol faces, As through the hall thy worship paces; (Though this I speak but at a venture, Supposing thou hast tick with Hunter) Methinks I see a black-guard rout Attend thy coach, and hear them shout In approbation of thy tongue, Which (in their style) is purely hung. Now! now you carry all before you! Nor dares one Jacobite or Tory Pretend to answer one syl-lable, Except the matchless hero Abel. Rh