Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/63

Rh What if, among the courtly tribe, You lost a place, and sav'd a bribe? And then in surly mood came here To fifteen hundred pounds a year, And fierce against the whigs harangu'd? You never ventur'd to be hang'd. How dare you treat your betters thus? Are you to be compar'd with us? Come, Spaniard, let us from our farms Call forth our cottagers to arms; Our forces let us both unite, Attack the foe at left and right; From Market-hill's exalted head, Full northward let your troops be led; While I from Drapier's-mount descend, And to the south my squadrons bend. New-river-walk with friendly shade Shall keep my host in ambuscade; While you, from where the basin stands, Shall scale the rampart with your bands. Nor need we doubt the fort to win; I hold intelligence within. True, lady Anne no danger fears, Brave as the Upton fan she wears; Then, lest upon our first attack Her valiant arm should force us back, And we of all our hopes depriv'd; I have a stratagem contriv'd. By these embroider'd high-heel'd shoes She shall be caught as in a noose; So well contriv'd her toes to pinch, She'll not have power to stir an inch: These gaudy shoes must Hannah place Direct before her lady's face; Rh