Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/67

Then call in Mercury for aid,
And cure the wounds that Venus made.
⁠Great scholars have in Lucian read,
When Philip king of Greece was dead,
His soul and spirit did divide,
And each part took a different side:
One rose a star; the other fell
Beneath, and mended shoes in Hell.
⁠Thus Partridge still shines in each art,
The cobbling and stargazing part,
And is install'd as good a star
As any of the Cæsars are.
⁠Triumphant star! some pity show
On cobblers militant below,
Whom roguish boys, in stormy nights,
Torment by pissing out their lights,
Or through a chink convey their smoke,
Inclos'd artificers to choke.
⁠Thou, high exalted in thy sphere,
Mayst follow still thy calling there.
To thee the Bull will lend his hide;
By Phœbus newly tann'd and dry'd:
For thee they Argo's hulk will tax,
And scrape her pitchy sides for wax:
Then Ariadne kindly lends
Her braided hair to make thee ends;
The points of Sagittarius' dart
Turns to an awl by heavenly art;
And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife,
Will forge for thee a paring knife.
For want of room by Virgo's side,
She'll strain a point, and sit astride.
To take thee kindly in between;
And then the signs will be thirteen.