Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/59

Rh Nor seldom grace the flowery downs, With spiral tops and copple crowns; Or gilding in a sunny morn The humble branches of a thorn. So, poets sing, with golden bough The Trojan hero paid his vow. Hither, by luckless errour led, The crude consistence oft I tread: Here, when my shoes are out of case, Unweeting gild the tarnish'd lace; Here, by the sacred bramble ting'd, My petticoat is doubly fring'd. Be witness for me, nymph divine, I never robb'd thee with design: Nor will the zealous Hannah pout To wash thy injur'd offering out. But stop, ambitious muse, in time, Nor dwell on subjects too sublime. In vain on lofty heels I tread, Aspiring to exalt my head: With hoop expanded wide and light, In vain I 'tempt too high a flight. Me Phœbus in a midnight dream Accosting said, "Go shake your cream ." Be humbly minded, know your post; Sweeten your tea, and watch your toast. Thee best befits a lowly style: Teach Dennis how to stir the guile ; With Peggy Dixon thoughtful sit, Contriving for the pot and spit. . VIII.