Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/273

Rh With every wind he sail'd, and well could tack: Had many pendants, but abhorr'd a Jack. He's gone, although his friends began to hope, That he might yet be lifted by a rope. Behold the awful bench, on which he sat! He was as hard and ponderous wood as that: Yet, when his sand was out, we find at last, That death has overset him with a blast. Our Boat is now sail'd to the Stygian ferry, There to supply old Charon's leaky wherry: Charon in him will ferry souls to Hell; A trade our Boat has practis'd here so well; And Cerberus has ready in his paws Both pitch and brimstone, to fill up his flaws. Yet, spite of death and fate, I here maintain We may place Boat in his old post again. The way is thus; and well deserves your thanks: Take the three strongest of his broken planks, Fix them on high, conspicuous to be seen, Form'd like the triple tree near Stephen's green ; And, when we view it thus with thief at end on't, We'll cry; Look, here's our Boat, and there's the pendant.

lies judge Boat within a coffin; Pray, gentlefolks, forbear your scoffing. A Boat a judge! yes; where's the blunder? A wooden judge is no such wonder. Rh