Answered Extempore By Dr. Swift

We both are mortal; but thou, frailer creature,
    May'st die, like me, by chance, but not by nature.

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 Psyche[1]

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

On The Church's Danger

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

Epilogue[1], To Mr. Hoppy's Benefit-Night, At Smock-Alley

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

A Poem; Occasioned By The Hangings In The Castle Of Dublin, In Which The Story Of Phaethon Is Expressed

Jonathan Swift, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

On A Very Old Glass At Market-Hill

Frail glass! thou mortal art as well as I;
    Though none can tell which of us first shall die.


ANSWERED EXTEMPORE BY DR. SWIFT

We both are mortal; but thou, frailer creature,
    May'st die, like me, by chance, but not by nature.

Jonathan Swift

Dr. Swift's Answer (Epigram On The Busts)

Her majesty never shall be my exalter;
And yet she would raise me, I know, by a halter!

Jonathan Swift

In Sickness

WRITTEN IN OCTOBER, 1714

Soon after the author's coming to live in Ireland, upon the Queen's death.[1] - Swift.

'Tis true - then why should I repine
To see my life so fast decline?
But why obscurely here alone,
Where I am neither loved nor known?
My state of health none care to learn;
My life is here no soul's concern:
And those with whom I now converse
Without a tear will tend my hearse.
Removed from kind Arbuthnot's aid,
Who knows his art, but not his trade,
Preferring his regard for me
Before his credit, or his fee.
Some formal visits, looks, and words,
What mere humanity affords,
I meet perhaps from three or four,
From whom I once expected more;
Which those who tend the sick for pay,
Can act as decently as they:
But n...

Jonathan Swift

Answered By Dr. Swift (To Lady Carteret)

WITH half an eye your riddle I spy,
I observe your wicket hemm'd in by a thicket,
And whatever passes is strain'd through glasses.
You say it is quiet: I flatly deny it.
It wanders about, without stirring out;
No passion so weak but gives it a tweak;
Love, joy, and devotion, set it always in motion.
And as for trie tragic effects of its magic,
Which you say it can kill, or revive at its will,
The dead are all sound, and they live above ground:
After all you have writ, it cannot be wit;
Which plainly does follow, since it flies from Apollo.
Its cowardice such it cries at a touch;
'Tis a perfect milksop, grows drunk with a drop,
Another great fault, it cannot bear salt:
And a hair can disarm it of every charm.

Jonathan Swift

On A Pen.

In youth exalted high in air,
Or bathing in the waters fair,
Nature to form me took delight,
And clad my body all in white.
My person tall, and slender waist,
On either side with fringes graced;
Till me that tyrant man espied,
And dragg'd me from my mother's side:
No wonder now I look so thin;
The tyrant stript me to the skin:
My skin he flay'd, my hair he cropt:
At head and foot my body lopt:
And then, with heart more hard than stone,
He pick'd my marrow from the bone.
To vex me more, he took a freak
To slit my tongue and make me speak:
But, that which wonderful appears,
I speak to eyes, and not to ears.
He oft employs me in disguise,
And makes me tell a thousand lies:
To me he chiefly gives in trust
To please his malice or his lust.<...

Jonathan Swift

Bettesworth's Exultation

Upon Hearing That His Name Would Be Transmitted To Posterity In Dr. Swift's Works.
By William Dunkin


Well! now, since the heat of my passion's abated,
That the Dean hath lampoon'd me, my mind is elated: -
Lampoon'd did I call it? - No - what was it then?
What was it? - 'Twas fame to be lash'd by his pen:
For had he not pointed me out, I had slept till
E'en doomsday, a poor insignificant reptile;
Half lawyer, half actor, pert, dull, and inglorious,
Obscure, and unheard of - but now I'm notorious:
Fame has but two gates, a white and a black one;
The worst they can say is, I got in at the back one:
If the end be obtain'd 'tis equal what portal
I enter, since I'm to be render'd immortal:
So clysters applied to the anus, 'tis said,
By skilful physicians, giv...

Jonathan Swift