Jonathan Swift

  • Tonis ad Resto Mare

    Air: “o Mary, heave a sigh for me.”

    O MARE æva si forme;
      Forme ure tonitru;
    Iambicum as amandum,
      Olet Hymen promptu;
    Mihi is vetas an ne se,
      As humano erebi;
    Olet mecum marito te,
      Or eta beta pi.

    Alas, plano more...

  • The Vowels: An Enigma

    We are little airy creatures,
    All of different voice and features;
    One of us in glass is set,
    One of us you ’ll find in jet,
    T’other you may see in tin,
    And the fourth a box within;
    If the fifth you should pursue,
    It can never fly from you...

  • Time: An Enigma

    Ever eating, never cloying,
    All-devouring, all-destroying,
    Never finding full repast
    Till I eat the world at last.