Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/299

Rh An humble hanger on at best; Of whom all people make a jest. In me detractors seek to find Two vices of a different kind: I'm too profuse, some censurers cry, And all I get, I let it fly: While others give me many a curse, Because too close I hold my purse. But this I know, in either case They dare not charge me to my face. 'Tis true, indeed, sometimes I save, Sometimes run out of all I have; But, when the year is at an end, Computing what I get and spend, My goings-out, and comings-in, I cannot find I lose or win; And therefore all that know me say, I justly keep the middle way. I'm always by my betters led; I last get up, and first abed; Though, if I rise before my time, The learn'd in sciences sublime Consult the stars, and thence foretell Good luck to those with whom I dwell.

joy of man, the pride of brutes, Domestick subject for disputes, Of plenty thou the emblem fair, Adorn'd by nymphs with all their care! I saw thee rais'd to high renown, Supporting half the British crown; And