Jonathan Swift (Джонатан Свифт)
Peace and Dunkirk
Spite of Dutch friends and English foes, Poor Britain shall have peace at last: Holland got towns, and we got blows; But Dunkirk's ours, we'll hold it fast. We have got it in a string, And the Whigs may all go swing, For among good friends I love to be plain; All their false deluded hopes Will, or ought to end in ropes; 'But the Queen shall enjoy her own again.' Sunderland's run out of his wits, And Dismal double Dismal looks; Wharton can only swear by fits, And strutting Hal is off the hooks; Old Godolphin, full of spleen, Made false moves, and lost his Queen: Harry look'd fierce, and shook his ragged mane: But a Prince of high renown Swore he'd rather lose a crown, 'Than the Queen should enjoy her own again.' Our merchant-ships may cut the line, And not be snapt by privateers. And commoners who love good wine Will drink it now as well as peers: Landed men shall have their rent, Yet our stocks rise cent, per cent. The Dutch from hence shall no more millions drain: We'll bring on us no more debts, Nor with bankrupts fill gazettes; 'And the Queen shall enjoy her own again.' The towns we took ne'er did us good: What signified the French to beat? We spent our money and our blood, To make the Dutchmen proud and great: But the Lord of Oxford swears, Dunkirk never shall be theirs. The Dutch-hearted Whigs may rail and complain; But true Englishmen may fill A good health to General Hill: 'For the Queen now enjoys her own again.'
Jonathan Swift’s other poems:
- Sid Hamet’s Rod
- Jack Frenchman’s Lamentation
- Louisa to Strephon
- On Cutting down the Thorn at Market-Hill
- The Author upon Himself
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