wn again.[7]

[Footnote 1: Where Swift lived with Sir William Temple, who had bought an
estate near Farnham, called Compton Hall, which he afterwards named Moor
Park. See "Prose Works," vol. xi, 378.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 2: Dryden. See "The Rehearsal," and _post_, p. 43.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 3: Will's coffee-house in Russell Street, Covent Garden, where
the wits of that time used to assemble. See "The Tatler," No. I, and
notes, edit. 1786.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 4: To this resolution Swift always adhered; for of the infinite
multitude of libellers who personally attacked him, there is not the name
mentioned of any one of them throughout his works; and thus, together
with their writings, have they been consigned to eternal oblivion.--_S._]

[Footnote 5: This alludes to Sir William Temple, to whom he presently
gives the name of Apollo.--_W. E. B._]

[Footnote 6: Out of an Ode I writ, inscribed "The Poet." The rest of it
is lost.--_Swift_.]

[Footnote 7: For an account of Congreve, see Leigh Hunt's edition of
"Wycherley, Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Farquhar."--_W. E. B._]

OCCASIONED BY SIR WILLIAM TEMPLE'S LATE ILLNESS AND RECOVERY

WRITTEN IN DECEMBER, 1693

Strange to conceive, how the same objects strike
At distant hours the mind with forms so like!
Whether in time, Deduction's broken chain
Meets, and salutes her sister link again;
Or haunted Fancy, by a circling flight,
Comes back with joy to its own seat at night;
Or whether dead Imagination's ghost
Oft hovers where alive it haunted most;
Or if Thought's rolling globe, her circle run,
Turns up old objects to the soul her sun;
Or loves the Muse to walk with conscious pride
O'er the glad scene whence first she rose a bride:
Be what it will; late near yon whispering stream,
Where her own Temple was her darling theme;
There first the visionary sound was heard,
When to poetic view the Muse appear'd.
Such seem'd her eyes, as when an evening ray
Gives glad farewell to a tempestuous day;
Weak is the beam to dry up Nature's tears,
Still every tree the pendent sorrow wears;
Such are the smiles where drops of crystal show
Approaching joy at strife with parting woe.
As when, to scare th'ungrateful or the proud,
Tempests long frown, and thunder threatens loud,
Till the blest sun, to give kind dawn of grace,
Darts weeping beams across Heaven's watery face;
When soon the peaceful bow unstring'd is shown,
A sign God's dart is shot, and wrath o'er