Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/388

376 Ah! Chloe, this I find is true, Since first I gave my heart to you. Now, by your cruelty hard bound, I strain my guts, my colon wound. Now jealousy, my grumbling tripes Assaults with grating, grinding gripes. When pity in those eyes I view, My bowels wambling make me spew. When I an amorous kiss design'd, I belch'd a hurricane of wind. Once you a gentle sigh let fall; Remember how I suck'd it all: What colick pangs from thence I felt, Had you but known, your heart would melt, Like ruffling winds in caverns pent, Till Nature pointed out a vent. How have you torn my heart to pieces With maggots, humours, and caprices! By which I got the hemorrhoids; And loathsome worms my anus voids. Whene'er I hear a rival nam'd, I feel my body all inflam'd; Which, breaking out in boils and blanes, With yellow filth my linen stains; Or, parch'd with unextinguish'd thirst, Smallbeer I guzzle till I burst; And then I drag a bloated corpus, Swell'd with a dropsy, like a porpoise; When, if I cannot purge or stale, I must be tapp'd to fill a pail. DEAN