Most Viewed
A Dog's Religion
Grace After Dinner
His Duel With Captain D'esterre
A Certificate Of Marriage
His Birth
A Mistaken Frenchman
Wisdom
A Courtier's Retort
Arthur O'leary
A Martial Judge
Least Viewed
His Birth
Swift Arbuthnot And Parnell
To Quilca
His Reception At The Rotundo By The Volunteers
Epistolary Bores
Sir R Peel's Opinion Of O'connell
Sow-west And The Wigs
Taxing The Air
Swift And Bettesworth
His First Client
Random Irish Humour
O'connell And A Bilking Client
Singular Event
Resolutions When I Come To Be Old
Lying
The Upstart
His Defence Of Archibald Hamilton Rowan
On The Same Upright Chief Justice Whitshed
A Dead Man With Life In Him
Epitaph On Judge Boat
Taxing The Air
|
The Upstart
Irish Humour Home
There was one character which, through life, always kindled Swift's
indignation, the haughty, presuming, tyrannizing upstart! A person of
this description chanced to reside in the parish of Laracor. Swift
omitted no opportunity of humbling his pride; but, as he was as ignorant
as insolent, he was obliged to accommodate the coarseness of the lash to
the callosity of the back. The following lines have been found written
by Swift upon this man:--
The rascal! that's too mild a name;
Does he forget from whence he came;
Has he forgot from whence he sprung;
A mushroom in a bed of dung;
A maggot in a cake of fat,
The offspring of a beggar's brat.
As eels delight to creep in mud,
To eels we may compare his blood;
His blood in mud delights to run;
Witness his lazy, lousy son!
Puff'd up with pride and insolence,
Without a grain of common sense,
See with what consequence he stalks,
With what pomposity he talks;
See how the gaping crowd admire
The stupid blockhead and the liar.
How long shall vice triumphant reign?
How long shall mortals bend to gain?
How long shall virtue hide her face,
And leave her votaries in disgrace?
----Let indignation fire my strains,
Another villain yet remains--
Let purse-proud C----n next approach,
With what an air he mounts his coach!
A cart would best become the knave,
A dirty parasite and slave;
His heart in poison deeply dipt,
His tongue with oily accents tipt,
A smile still ready at command,
The pliant bow, the forehead bland----
Next: Meditation Upon A Broomstick
Previous: The Scriblerus Club
Viewed 915
|
Informational
