Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/90

 Toland to you this invitation sends, To eat the calf's-head with your trusty friends. Suspend a while your vain ambitious hopes, Leave hunting after bribes, forget your tropes. Tomorrow we our mystick feast prepare, Where thou, our latest proselyte, shalt share: When we, by proper signs and symbols, tell, How, by brave hands, the royal traitor fell; The meat shall represent the tyrant's head, The wine his blood our predecessors shed; While an alluding hymn some artist sings, We toast, "Confusion to the race of kings!" At monarchy we nobly show our spite, And talk, what fools call treason, all the night. Who, by disgraces or ill fortune sunk, Feels not his soul enlivened when he's drunk? Wine can clear up Godolphin's cloudy face, And fill Jack Smith with hopes to keep his place: By force of wine, ev'n Scarborough is brave, Hal grows more pert, and Somers not so grave: Wine can give Portland wit, and Cleaveland sense, Montague learning, Bolton eloquence: Cholmondeley, when drunk, can never lose his wand; And Lincoln then imagines he has land. My

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