English poem
Woollen-Draper In Dublin, Whose Sign Was The Golden Fleece
Jason, the valiant prince of Greece, From Colchis brought the Golden Fleece; We comb the wool, refine the stuff, For modern Jasons, that's enough. Oh! could we tame yon watchful dragon, Old Jason would have less to brag on.
TO A FRIEND WHO HAD BEEN MUCH ABUSED IN MANY INVETERATE LIBELS
The greatest monarch may be stabb'd by night And fortune help the murderer in his flight; The vilest ruffian may commit a rape, Yet safe from injured innocence escape; And calumny, by working under ground, Can, unrevenged, the greatest merit wound. What's to be done? Shall wit and learning choose To live obscure, and have no fame to lose? By Censure frighted out of Honour's road, Nor dare to use the gifts by Heaven bestow'd? Or fearless enter in through Virtue's gate, And buy distinction at the dearest rate.
More by Jonathan Swift
- Viii. On Seeing Verses Written Upon Windows At Inns
- When beasts could speak, ( the learned say...
- Will Wood'S Petition To The People Of Ireland
- Wood An Insect.
- Written At The Castle Of Dublin, 1699
- Written By Dr. Swift On His Own Deafness, In September, 1734
- Written In A Lady's Ivory Table-Book, 1698
- Written In April 1709, And First Printed In "The Tatler"[1]