Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/325



was welcom'd to the shore First with the brazen cannons roar; To meet him next the soldier comes, With brazen trumps and brazen drums; Approaching near the town, he hears The brazen bells salute his ears: But, when Wood's brass began to sound, Guns, trumpets, drums, and bells, were drown'd.

when of old some sorceress threw O'er the moon's face a sable hue, To drive unseen her magick chair, At midnight through the darken’d air; Wise people, who believ'd with reason That this eclipse was out of season, Affirm'd the moon was sick, and fell To cure her by a counter spell. Ten thousand cymbals now begin To rend the skies with brazen din; The cymbals' rattling sounds dispel The cloud, and drive the hag to Hell. The