Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/102

 (Who now so impiously blasphemes Her ointments, daubs, and paints, and creams, Her washes, slops, and every clout, With which he makes so foul a rout;) He soon would learn to think like me, And bless his ravish'd eyes to see Such order from confusion sprung, Such gaudy tulips rais'd from dung.

. 1730.

F neither brass nor marble can withstand The mortal force of Time's destructive hand; If mountains sink to vales, if cities die, And lessening rivers mourn their fountains dry: When my old cassock (said a Welsh divine) Is out at elbows; why should I repine? ON MR. PULTENEY'S BEING PUT OUT OF THE COUNCIL. 1731.

IR Robert, weary'd by Will Pulteney's teazings, Who interrupted him in all his leasings, Resolv'd that Will and he should meet no more, Full in his face Bob shuts the council-door; Nor lets him sit as justice on the bench, To punish thieves, or lash a suburb-wench. Yet still St. Stephen's chapel open lies For Will to enter. — What shall I advise? Ev'n