Another (Epigrams On Windows)

By Satan taught, all conjurors know
Your mistress in a glass to show,
And you can do as much:
In this the devil and you agree;
None e'er made verses worse than he,
    And thine, I swear, are such.

Jonathan Swift

Jonathan Swift was an Anglo-Irish satirist, essayist, political pamphleteer, poet and cleric who became Dean of St Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin. Swift is remembered for works such as "A Tale of a Tub" (1704), "An Argument Against Abolishing Christianity" (1712), and "Gulliver's Travels" (1726). Swift originally published all of his works under pseudonyms—such as Lemuel Gulliver, Isaac Bickerstaff, Drapier's Letters as MB Drapier—and works were sometimes attributed to Anonymous.

Jonathan Swift

On Carthy's Publishing Several Lampoons, Under The Names Of Infamous Poetasters (Epigram Against Carthy)

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

A Young Lady's Complaint For The Stay Of The Dean In England

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

Dingley And Brent[1], A Song

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

Dr. Swift To Himself On St. Cecilia's Day

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

English

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Another (Epigrams On Windows)

That love is the devil, I'll prove when required;
    Those rhymers abundantly show it:
They swear that they all by love are inspired,
    And the devil's a damnable poet.

Jonathan Swift

On Seeing Verses Written Upon Windows At Inns (Epigrams On Windows)

The sage, who said he should be proud
    Of windows in his breast,[1]
Because he ne'er a thought allow'd
    That might not be confest;
His window scrawl'd by every rake,
    His breast again would cover,
And fairly bid the devil take
    The diamond and the lover.

Jonathan Swift

At An Inn In England (Epigrams On Windows)

The glass, by lovers' nonsense blurr'd,
    Dims and obscures our sight;
So, when our passions Love has stirr'd,
    It darkens Reason's light.

Jonathan Swift

Another Written Upon A Window Where There Was No Writing Before (Epigrams On Windows)

Thanks to my stars, I once can see
A window here from scribbling free!
Here no conceited coxcombs pass,
To scratch their paltry drabs on glass;
Nor party fool is calling names,
Or dealing crowns to George and James.

Jonathan Swift

Another, At Chester (Epigrams On Windows)

My landlord is civil,
But dear as the d - l:
Your pockets grow empty
With nothing to tempt ye;
The wine is so sour,
'Twill give you a scour,
The beer and the ale
Are mingled with stale.
The veal is such carrion,
A dog would be weary on.
All this I have felt,
For I live on a smelt.

Jonathan Swift

Another, At Chester (Epigrams On Windows)

    The walls of this town
    Are full of renown,
And strangers delight to walk round 'em:
    But as for the dwellers,
    Both buyers and sellers,
For me, you may hang 'em, or drown 'em.

Jonathan Swift