Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/274

262 And in his robes, you must agree, No boat was better deckt than he, 'Tis needless to describe him fuller; In short, he was an able sculler.

Venus born, thy beauty shows; But who thy father, no man knows: Nor can the skilful herald trace The founder of thy ancient race; Whether thy tempter, full of fire, Discovers Vulcan for thy sire, The god who made Scamander boil, And round his margin sing'd the soil; (From whence, philosophers agree, An equal power descends to thee) Whether from dreadful Mars you claim The high descent from whence you came, And, as a proof, show numerous scars By fierce encounters made in wars, Those honourable wounds you bore From head to foot, and all before, And still the bloody field frequent, Familiar in each leader's tent; Or whether, as the learn'd contend, You from the neighbouring Gaul descend; Or from Parthenope the proud, Where numberless thy votaries crowd; Whether