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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426409" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Author Upon Himself</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">By an old ——pursued,<br>A crazy prelate, and a royal prude;<br>By dull divines, who look with envious eyes<br>On ev'ry genius that attempts to rise;<br>And pausing o'er a pipe, with doubtful nod,<br>Give hints, that poets ne'er believe in God.<br>So clowns on scholars as on wizards look,<br>And take a folio for a conj'ring book.<br>Swift had the sin of wit, no venial crime:<br>Nay, 'twas affirm'd, he sometimes dealt in rhyme;<br>Humour and mirth had place in all he writ;<br>He reconcil'd divinity and wit:<br>He moved and bow'd, and talk'd with too much grace;<br>Nor show'd the parson in his gait or face;<br>Despised luxurious wines and costly meat;<br>Yet still was at the tables of the great;<br>Frequented lords; saw those that saw the queen;<br>At Child's or Truby's, never once had been;<br>Where town and country vicars flock in tribes,<br>Secured by numbers from the laymen's gibes;<br>And deal in vices of the graver sort,<br>Tobacco, censure, coffee, pride, and port.<br>But, after sage monitions from his friends,<br>His talents to employ for nobler ends;<br>To better judgments willing to submit,<br>He turns to politics his dang'rous wit.<br>And now, the public Int'rest to support,<br>By Harley Swift invited, comes to court;<br>In favour grows with ministers of state;<br>Admitted private, when superiors wait:<br>And Harley, not ashamed his choice to own,<br>Takes him to Windsor in his coach alone.<br>At Windsor Swift no sooner can appear,<br>But St. John comes, and whispers in his ear:<br>The waiters stand in ranks: the yeomen cry,<br>Make room, as if a duke were passing by.<br>Now Finch alarms the lords: he hears for certain<br>This dang'rous priest is got behind the curtain.<br>Finch, famed for tedious elocution, proves<br>That Swift oils many a spring which Harley moves.<br>Walpole and Aislaby, to clear the doubt,<br>Inform the Commons, that the secret's out:<br>'A certain doctor is observed of late<br>To haunt a certain minister of state:<br>From whence with half an eye we may discover<br>The peace is made, and Perkin must come over.'<br>York is from Lambeth sent, to show the queen<br>A dang'rous treatise writ against the spleen;<br>Which, by the style, the matter, and the drift,<br>'Tis thought could be the work of none but Swift.<br>Poor York! the harmless tool of others' hate;<br>He sues for pardon, and repents too late.<br>Now angry Somerset her vengeance vows<br>On Swift's reproaches for her ******* spouse:<br>From her red locks her mouth with venom fills,<br>And thence into the royal ear instils.<br>The queen incensed, his services forgot,<br>Leaves him a victim to the vengeful Scot.<br>Now through the realm a proclamation spread,<br>To fix a price on his devoted head.<br>While innocent, he scorns ignoble flight;<br>His watchful friends preserve him by a sleight.<br>By Harley's favour once again he shines;<br>Is now caress'd by candidate divines,<br>Who change opinions with the changing scene:<br>Lord! how were they mistaken in the dean!<br>Now Delawar again familiar grows;<br>And in Swift's ear thrusts half his powder'd nose.<br>The Scottish nation, whom he durst offend,<br>Again apply that Swift would be their friend.<br>By faction tired, with grief he waits awhile,<br>His great contending friends to reconcile;<br>Performs what friendship, justice, truth require:<br>What could he more, but decently retire?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Swift">Jonathan Swift</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426409" data-title="The Author Upon Himself de Jonathan Swift" data-description="By an old ——pursued,
A crazy prelate, and a royal prude;
By dull divines, who look with envious eyes
On ev'ry genius that attempts to rise;
And pausing o'er a pipe, with doubtful nod,
Give hints, that poets ne'er believe in God.
So clowns on s..."></div>
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