Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/386

374 But, as from the windows the ladies he spy'd, Like a beau in the box, he bow'd low on each side; And, when his last speech the loud hawkers did cry, He swore from his cart, "It was all a damn'd lye!" The hangman for pardon fell down on his knee; Tom gave him a kick in the guts for his fee: Then said, I must speak to the people a little; But I'll see you all damn'd before I will whittle. My honest friend Wild (may he long hold his place) He lengthen'd my life with a whole year of grace. Take courage, dear comrades, and be not afraid, Nor slip this occasion to follow your trade; My conscience is clear, and my spirits are calm, And thus I go off without prayer-book or psalm; Then follow the practice of clever Tom Clinch, Who hung like a hero, and never would flinch.

has the talent well to speak, But not to reach the ear; His loudest voice is low and weak, The dean too deaf to hear. A while they on each other look, Then different studies choose; The dean sits plodding on a book; Pope walks, and courts the Muse. Now