Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/57

Rh This earthly globe, to thee assign'd, Receiv'd the gifts of all mankind. Ten thousand altars smoking round Were built to thee with offerings crown'd: And here thy daily votaries plac'd Their sacrifice with zeal and haste: The margin of a purling stream Sent up to thee a grateful steam; Though sometimes thou wert please to wink, If Naiads swept them from the brink: Or where appointing lovers rove, The shelter of a shady grove; Or offer'd in some flowery vale, Were, wafted by a gentle gale, There many a flower abstersive grew, Thy favourite flowers of yellow hue; The crocus and the daffodil, The cowslip soft, and sweet jonquil. But when at last usurping Jove Old Saturn from his empire drove; Then gluttony, with greasy paws. Her napkin pinn'd up to her jaws, With watery chaps, and wagging chin, Brac'd like a drum her oily skin; Wedg'd in a spacious elbow chair, And on her plate a treble share, As if she ne'er could have enough, Taught harmless man to cram and stuff. She sent her priests in wooden shoes From haughty Gaul to make ragouts; Instead of wholesome bread and cheese, To dress their soups and fricassees; And, for our homebred British cheer, Botargo, catsup, and caviare. Rh