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Matthew Prior. Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works

in Prose and Verse. The Text Edited by A. R. Waller

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Fragments.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Fragments.

Odd is the Justice of that Land
Which only lopps the Thiefs right-hand:
The left, before inur'd to Robb,
Is each new Sessions in your Fobb.
In Britain We with wiser care
Chastise a Limb that has no pair;
And when You hang him by the Neck
E'en trust him for a Second Trick.
But that of which he was bereft
Alas, had n'er a fellow left.

329

Anaxarchus being upon the Torture in hopes of some discovery bitt off his Tongue and spit it into the Tyrants face—The Tongue thus separated from the dear root

Thus wounded and thus spit
Express'd more Wisdom Sense and Wit
Then Homer Sung or Plato writ.
Virtue and Love instruct me well
What to Conceal and what to tell.
Yet Distanc'd and Undone by those
Whom sure thou did'st Excell in Prose
When thou thy long mistake did'st see
And los'd from Prison came to me
Say did I not receive thee say
As thou had'st never gone astray.
To make thy Fortune fair Amends
In raising Thee Twelve Hundred friends
By which succeeding Age may see
Who Lov'd the Muse and Pardon'd Thee.
I saw a Thousand ill look'd foes
Their Daggers to thy breast oppose.
And if the Motion by the Sense you prove
The Ship stands still the Shoars & Cities move.
And be the Wretch thy Pitty or delight
Yet Swim or sink I'll hold the rudder right.
[OMITTED] I'll have a Dart
Shal strike him to the heart
Else let me n'er to Heav'n soar
Nor e'er on Earth do Mischief more.
Who e'er a serious view will take
Of that learn'd book the Almanack
Will find a figur'd Man Pierc'd thrô
With sundry Darts from head to toe

330

Just so at least a Year stood I
Smote breast and back and hip and Thigh
Full twenty Foes around me came
And each at me took several Aim
Against some part each took
One at my head with Malice Stroke
T'other ram'd Perjury at my throat
This with Sophisticated reason
Shot at my hand for writing Treason
Against Them All I stood.
We bid the Men stand and deliver their Purses
And tying their Hands up we laugh at their Curses.