Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/191

Rh How will the caitiff wretch be scar'd, When first he finds himself awake At the last trumpet, unprepar'd, And all his grand account to make! For in that universal call, Few bankers will to Heaven be mounters; They'll cry, "Ye shops, upon us fall! Conceal and cover us, ye counters!" When other hands the scales shall hold, And they, in men's and angels' sight Produc'd with all their bills and gold, "Weigh'd in the balance, and found light!"

'ROURK'S noble fare Will ne'er be forgot, By those who were there, Or those who were not. His revels to keep, We sup and we dine On seven score sheep, Fat bullocks, and swine. Usquebaugh to our feast In pails was brought up, A hundred at least, And a madder our cup. Rh