Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/319



all things near me, and far off to boot, Without stretching a finger, or stirring a foot; I take them all in too, to add to your wonder, Though many and various, and large and asunder. Without jostling or crowding they pass side by side, Through a wonderful wicket, not half an inch wide: Then I lodge them at ease in a very large store, Of no breadth or length, with a thousand things more. All this I can do without witchcraft or charm, Though sometimes, they say, I bewitch and do harm; Though cold, I inflame; and though quiet, invade; And nothing can shield from my spell but a shade. A thief that has robb'd you, or done you disgrace, In magical mirrour, I'll show you his face: Nay, if you'll believe what the poets have said, They'll tell you I kill, and can call back the dead. Like conjurers safe in my circle I dwell, I love to look black too, it heightens my spell; Though my magick is mighty in every hue, Who see all my power must see it in.

half an eye your riddle I spy, I observe your wicket hemm'd in by a thicket, And whatever passes is strained through glasses. You say it is quiet; I flatly deny it. Rh