Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/204

192 So, when upon a moonshine night An ass was drinking at a stream; A cloud arose, and stopt the light, By intercepting every beam: The day of judgment will be soon, Cries out a sage among the crowd; An ass has swallow'd up the moon! The moon lay safe behind the cloud. Each poor subscriber to the sea Sinks down at once, and there he lies; Directors fall as well as they, Their fall is but a trick to rise. So fishes, rising from the main, Can soar with moisten'd wings on high; The moisture dry'd, they sink again, And dip their fins again to fly. Undone at play, the female troops Come here their losses to retrieve; Ride o'er the waves in spacious hoops, Like Lapland witches in a sieve. Thus Venus to the sea descends, As poets feign; but where's the moral? It shows the Queen of Love intends To search the deep for pearl and coral. The sea is richer than the land, I heard it from my grannam's mouth, Which now I clearly understand; For by the sea she meant the South. Thus by directors we are told, "Pray, gentlemen, believe your eyes; Our ocean's cover'd o'er with gold, Look round, and see how thick it lies: " We