Swift

"Mild Dorothea, peaceful, wise, and great,Trembling beheld the doubtful hand of fate."

"Those who would grief describe, might come and traceIts watery footsteps in Dorinda's face.To see her weep, joy every face forsook,And grief flung sables on each menial look.The humble tribe mourned for the quickening soul,That furnished life and spirit through the whole."

"When on my sickly couch I lay,Impatient both of night and day,And groaning in womanly strains,Called every power to ease my pains,Then Stella ran to my relief,With cheerful face and inward grief,And though by Heaven's severe decreeShe suffers hourly more than me,No cruel master could requireFrom slaves employed for daily hire,What Stella, by her friendship warmed,With vigour and delight performed.Now, with a soft and silent tread,Unheard she moves about my bed:My sinking spirits now suppliesWith cordials in her hands and eyes.Best pattern of true friends! beware;You pay too dearly for your careIf, while your tenderness securesMy life, it must endanger yours:For such a fool was never foundWho pulled a palace to the ground,Only to have the ruins madeMaterials for a house decayed."

"Read all the Prefaces of Dryden,For these our critics much confide in,Though merely writ, at first, for filling,To raise the volume's price a shilling."

Behold a proof of Irish sense:Here Irish wit is seen;When nothing's left that's worth defence,They build a magazine!

"So, at the bar, the booby Bettesworth,Though half-a-crown out-pays his sweat's worth,Who knows in law nor text nor margent,Calls Singleton his brother-serjeant!"

"I wish you both a merry new year,Roast beef, minced-pies, and good strong beer,And me a share of your good cheer,That I was there, as you were here,And you are a little saucy dear."