Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/230

 'Tis true, no nose could come in better; 'Tis a vast subject stuff'd with matter, Which all may handle, none can flatter. Take courage, Dan; this plainly shows, That not the wisest mortal knows What fortune may befal his nose. Show me the brightest Irish toast, Who from her lover e'er could boast Above a song or two at most; For thee three poets now are drudging all, To praise the cheeks, chin, nose, the bridge and all, Both of the picture and original. Thy nose's length and fame extend So far, dear Dan, that every friend Tries, who shall have it by the end. And future poets, as they rise, Shall read with envy and surprise Thy nose outshining Cælia's eyes.

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"My verse little better you'll find than my face is, A word to the wise — ut pictura poësis."

merry lads, with envy stung, Because Dan's face is better hung, Combin'd in verse to rhyme it down, And in its place set up their own; As