Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/294

282 The wondering world, where'er he moves, With new delight looks up and loves; One sex consenting to admire, Nor less the other to desire; While he, though seated on a throne, Confines his love to one alone; The rest condemn'd, with rival voice Repining, do applaud his choice. Fame now reports, the Western Isle Is made his mansion for a while, Whose anxious natives, night and day, (Happy beneath his righteous sway) Weary the gods with ceaseless prayer, To bless him, and to keep him there; And claim it as a debt from Fate, Too lately found, to lose him late.

church I hate, and have good reason; For there my grandsire cut his weasand: He cut his weasand at the altar; I keep my gullet for the halter. ON