Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/161

Rh In diet was perhaps too nice, But gluttony was ne'er his vice: In every turn of life content, And meekly took what fortune sent: Inquire through all the parish round, A better neighbour ne'er was found: His vigilance might some displease; 'Tis true, he hated sloth like pease. The mimic Ape began his chatter, How evil tongues his life bespatter; Much of the censuring world complain'd, Who said, his gravity was feign'd: Indeed the strictness of his morals Engag'd him in a hundred quarrels: He saw, and he was griev'd to see't, His zeal was sometimes indiscreet; He found his virtues too severe For our corrupted times to bear; Yet such a lewd licentious age Might well excuse a stoick's rage. The Goat advanc'd with decent pace; And first excused his youthful face; Forgiveness begg'd, that he appear'd ('Twas Nature's fault) without a beard. 'Tis true, he was not much inclin'd To fondness for the female kind: Not, as his enemies object, From chance, or natural defect; Not by his frigid constitution; But through a pious resolution: For he had made a holy vow Of chastity, as monks do now: Rh