Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/60

48 And then the hospitable sire Bid goody Baucis mend the fire; While he from out the chimney took A flitch of bacon off the hook, And freely from the fattest side Cut out large slices to be fry'd; Then step'd aside to fetch them drink, Fill'd a large jug up to the brink, And saw it fairly twice go round; Yet (what is wonderful!) they found, 'Twas still replenish'd to the top, As if they ne'er had touch'd a drop. The good old couple were amaz'd, And often on each other gaz'd; For both were frighten'd to the heart, And just began to cry, What ar't! Then softly turn'd aside, to view Whether the lights were burning blue. The gentle pilgrims, soon aware on't, Told them their calling, and their errand: Good folks, you need not be afraid, We are but saints, the hermits said; No hurt shall come to you or yours: But for that pack of churlish boors, Not fit to live on Christian ground, They and their houses shall be drown'd; While you shall see your cottage rise, And grow a church before your eyes. They scarce had spoke, when fair and soft, The roof began to mount aloft; Aloft rose every beam and rafter; The heavy wall climb'd slowly after. The chimney widen'd, and grew higher, Became a steeple with a spire. Rh