A NEW SIMILE IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT LONG had I sought in vain to find Imprimis, pray observe his hat, Wings upon either side-mark that. Well! what is it from thence we gather? In the next place, his feet peruse, 5 10 15 20 25 And here my simile unites, Lastly, vouchsafe t' observe his hand, Though ne'er so much awake before, Add too, what certain writers tell, 40 With this he drives men's souls to hell. Now to apply, begin we then ; Denote the rage with which he writes, His frothy slaver, venom'd bites; An equal semblance still to keep, Drove souls to Tart'rus with his rod, And here my simile almost tript, 55 50 45 35 3309 Moreover, Merc'ry had a failing : Well! what of that? out with it-stealing; In which all modern bards agree, Being each as great a thief as he: Shall lend my simile assistance. Our modern bards! why what a pox Are they but senseless stones and blocks? 60 |