Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/144

134 But not a traitor could be found, To sell him for six hundred pound. "Had he but spar'd his tongue and pen, He might have rose like other men: But power was never in his thought, And wealth he valu'd not a groat: Ingratitude he often found, And pitied those who meant the wound: But kept the tenour of his mind, To merit well of humankind: Nor made a sacrifice of those Who still were true, to please his foes. He labour'd many a fruitless hour, To reconcile his friends in power; Saw mischief by a faction brewing, While they pursu'd each other's ruin. But finding vain was all his care, He left the court in mere despair . "And, oh! how short are human schemes! Here ended all our golden dreams. What St. John's skill in state affairs, What Ormond's valour, Oxford's cares, To save their sinking country lent, Was all destroyed by one event. Too soon that precious life was ended, On which alone our weal depended. "When