Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/309

Rh My blood this day is very sweet, To morrow of a bitter juice: Like milk, 'tis cry'd about the street, And so apply'd to different use. Most wondrous is my magick power: For with one colour I can paint; I'll make the devil a saint this hour, Next make a devil of a saint. Through distant regions I can fly, Provide me but with paper wings; And fairly show a reason why There should be quarrels among kings. And, after all, you'll think it odd, When learned doctors will dispute, That I should point the word of , And show where they can best confute. Let lawyers bawl and strain their throats: 'Tis I that must the lands convey, And strip the clients to their coats; Nay, give their very souls away.

of us in one you'll find, Brethren of a wondrous kind; Yet among us all no brother Knows one tittle of the other; We in frequent councils are, And our marks of things declare, Where, to us unknown, a clerk Sits, and takes them in the dark. He's