The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 8/The Day of Judgment
THE DAY OF JUDGMENT[1].
WITH a whirl of thought oppress'd,
I sunk from reverie to rest.
A horrid vision seiz'd my head,
I saw the graves give up their dead!
Jove, arm'd with terrours, bursts the skies,
And thunder roars, and lightning flies!
Amaz'd, confus'd, its fate unknown,
The world stands trembling at his throne!
While each pale sinner hung his head,
Jove, nodding, shook the heavens, and said:
"Offending race of human kind,
By nature, reason, learning, blind;
You who, through frailty, stepp'd aside;
And you who never fell from pride;
You who in different sects were shamm'd,
And come to see each other damn'd:
(So some folk told you, but they knew
No more of Jove's designs than you)
— The world's mad business now is o'er,
And I resent these pranks no more.
— I to such blockheads set my wit!
I damn such fools! — Go, go, you're bit."
- ↑ This Poem was printed (from the dean's MS.) in a letter from lord Chesterfield addressed to Mr. Voltaire, dated Aug. 27, 1752.