Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/32

20 No conquest ever yet begun, And by one mighty hero carried to its height, E'er flourished under a successor or a son; It lost some mighty pieces through all hands it past, And vanished to an empty title in the last. For, when the animating mind is fled (Which nature never can retain, Nor e'er call back again) The body, though gigantick, lies all cold and dead.

XII.

And thus undoubtedly 'twill fare, With what unhappy men shall dare To be successors to these great unknown, On Learning's high-establish'd throne. Censure, and Pedantry, and Pride, Numberless nations, stretching far and wide, Shall (I foresee it) soon with Gothick swarms come forth From Ignorance's universal North, And with blind rage break all this peaceful government: Yet shall these traces of your wit remain, Like a just map, to tell the vast extent Of conquest in your short and happy reign; And to all future mankind shew How strange a paradox is true, That men who liv'd and died without a name Are the chief heroes in the sacred list of fame. WRITTEN