Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/296

284 My person tall, and slender waist, On either side with fringes grac’d; Till me that tyrant man espy'd, And dragg'd me from my mother's side: No wonder now I look so thin; The tyrant stript me to the skin: My skin he flay'd, my hair he cropt: At head and foot my body lopt: And then, with heart more hard than stone, He pick'd my marrow from the bone. To vex me more, he took a freak To slit my tongue, and make me speak: But, that which wonderful appears, I speak to eyes, and not to ears. He oft employs me in disguise, And makes me tell a thousand lies: To me he chiefly gives in trust To please his malice or his lust. From me no secret he can hide; I see his vanity and pride: And my delight is to expose His follies to his greatest foes. All languages I can command, Yet not a word I understand. Without my aid, the best divine In learning would not know a line: The lawyer must forget his pleading; The scholar could not show his reading. Nay; man my master is my slave; I give command to kill or save, Can grant ten thousand pounds a year, And make a beggar's brat a peer. But, while I thus my life relate, I only hasten on my fate. My