Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsA Quibbling Elegy On Judge Boat
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
A Quibbling Elegy On Judge Boat Post by :DukeOfURL Category :Poems Author :Jonathan Swift Date :August 2011 Read :3635

Click below to download : A Quibbling Elegy On Judge Boat (Format : PDF)

A Quibbling Elegy On Judge Boat


To mournful ditties, Clio, change thy note,
Since cruel fate has sunk our Justice Boat;
Why should he sink, where nothing seem'd to press
His lading little, and his ballast less?
Tost in the waves of this tempestuous world,
At length, his anchor fix'd and canvass furl'd,
To Lazy-hill(1) retiring from his court,
At his Ring's end(2) he founders in the port.
With water(3) fill'd, he could no longer float,
The common death of many a stronger boat.
A post so fill'd on nature's laws entrenches:
Benches on boats are placed, not boats on benches.
And yet our Boat (how shall I reconcile it?)
Was both a Boat, and in one sense a pilot.
With every wind he sail'd, and well could tack:
Had many pendants, but abhorr'd a Jack.(4)
He's gone, although his friends began to hope,
That he might yet be lifted by a rope.
Behold the awful bench, on which he sat!
He was as hard and ponderous wood as that:
Yet when his sand was out, we find at last,
That death has overset him with a blast.
Our Boat is now sail'd to the Stygian ferry,
There to supply old Charon's leaky wherry;
Charon in him will ferry souls to Hell;
A trade our Boat(5) has practised here so well:
And Cerberus has ready in his paws
Both pitch and brimstone, to fill up his flaws.
Yet, spite of death and fate, I here maintain
We may place Boat in his old post again.
The way is thus: and well deserves your thanks:
Take the three strongest of his broken planks,
Fix them on high, conspicuous to be seen,
Form'd like the triple tree near Stephen's Green:(6)
And, when we view it thus with thief at end on't,
We'll cry; look, here's our Boat, and there's the pendant.

The Epitaph

Here lies Judge Boat within a coffin:
Pray, gentlefolks, forbear your scoffing.
A Boat a judge! yes; where's the blunder?
A wooden judge is no such wonder.
And in his robes you must agree,
No boat was better deckt than he.
'Tis needless to describe him fuller;
In short, he was an able sculler.(7)

(Footnote 1: A street in Dublin, leading to the harbour.)

(Footnote 2: A village near the sea.)

(Footnote 3: It was said he died of a dropsy.)

(Footnote 4: A cant word for a Jacobite.)

(Footnote 5: In condemning malefactors, as a judge.)

(Footnote 6: Where the Dublin gallows stands.)

(Footnote 7: Query, whether the author meant scholar, and wilfully mistook?--_Dublin Edition._)

(The end)
Jonathan Swift's poem: Quibbling Elegy On Judge Boat

If you like this book please share to your friends :

Verses Occasioned By Whitshed's Motto On His Coach Verses Occasioned By Whitshed's Motto On His Coach

Verses Occasioned By Whitshed's Motto On His Coach
Verses Occasioned By Whitshed's (1) Motto On His Coach. 1724 Libertas _et natale solum:_ (2)Fine words! I wonder where you stole 'em.Could nothing but thy chief reproachServe for a motto on thy coach?But let me now the words translate:_Natale solum_, my estate;My dear estate, how well I love it,My tenants, if you doubt, will prove it,They swear I am so kind and good,I hug them till I squeeze their blood. _Libertas_ bears a large import:First, how to swagger in a court;And, secondly, to show my furyAgainst an uncomplying jury;And, thirdly, 'tis a new invention,To favour Wood, and keep my

Upon The Horrid Plot Upon The Horrid Plot

Upon The Horrid Plot
DISCOVERED BY HARLEQUIN, THE BISHOP OF ROCHESTER'S FRENCH DOG,(1) IN A DIALOGUE BETWEEN A WHIG AND A TORY I ask'd a Whig the other night,How came this wicked plot to light?He answer'd, that a dog of lateInform'd a minister of state.Said I, from thence I nothing know;For are not all informers so?A villain who his friend betrays,We style him by no other phrase;And so a perjured dog denotesPorter, and Pendergast, and Oates,And forty others I could name. WHIG. But you must know this dog was lame. TORY. A weighty argument indeed!Your evidence was lame:--proceed:Come, help your lame dog