BY MR. LINDSAY[1]
Dublin, Sept. 7, 1728.
"A SLAVE to crowds, scorch'd with the summer's heats,
In courts the wretched lawyer toils and sweats;
While smiling Nature, in her best attire,
Regales each sense, and vernal joys inspire.
Can he, who knows that real good should please,
Barter for gold his liberty and ease?" -
This Paulus preach'd: - When, entering at the door,
Upon his board the client pours the ore:
He grasps the shining gift, pores o'er the cause,
Forgets the sun, and dozes on the laws.
Paulus: An Epigram
Jonathan Swift
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Poem topics: nature, summer, sun, good, real, sense, door, gold, gift, slave, shining, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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