Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BIRTHDAY POEM ON ANNIVRSARY OF BIRTH OF REV. DR. SWIFT, by THOMAS SHERIDAN (1687-1738)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

BIRTHDAY POEM ON ANNIVRSARY OF BIRTH OF REV. DR. SWIFT, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: This day, the fav'rite of the year
Last Line: "you never can, nor shall forsake him."
Subject(s): Birthdays; Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745)


This day, the fav'rite of the year,
To each Hibernian heart most dear,
The gods and goddesses convene
In honor of St. Patrick's Dean,
To celebrate his genial day,
And now their brightest pomp display.
The grand procession led by Jove,
To Sol's bright palace on they move,
Where ent'ring at his golden gate,
The god received them all in state.
Behold them in their proper places,
The gods, the goddesses and Graces,
In their celestial best attire;
And now the birthday song require.
The Muses, placed on either hand,
Wait for the signal of command;
For none durst touch the trembling strings,
Before the god of music sings.

The god begins; they straight obey;
By turns they sing; by turns they play;
Again at once they all agree
In blest concerted harmony;
No voice exempt, no finger mute,
The well-tuned notes and numbers suit
So well that every various tone
By symphony appears as one.
The vaulted roof exalts the sound,
And guides the floating charms around.
Each heav'nly bosom pants with pleasure,
Approves the song, applauds the measure,
For Phoebus both composed, to raise
His fav'rite Swift to deathless praise.
They sang how gloriously he stood
Against the dark invader, Wood,
Though armed with tenfold plates of brass;
How bravely Swift maintained the pass;
How wary, vigorous and stout,
He kept the lurking ruin out;
That famed Hibernia now can say,
She owes her safety to that day.
Now softly sweet to Lydian airs
They shift their hands and soothe the spheres,
The spheres that harmony employ
In sympathetic, tuneful joy;
Well-pleased to join in such a choir
Where Swift is sung and gods inspire
With numbers high, and sweet like those
Which he for matchless Stella chose --
Stella, the glory of her age,
Who lives in his immortal page;
And now repeats those lines above,
Where Wisdom best expresses Love.
While thus advanced the smiling Hours,
And transport filled the heav'nly pow'rs.
Far-flying Fame came flutt'ring in,
As if her wings had wounded been,
And thus with falt'ring accents faint
The weary goddess makes complaint.

"Ye gods and goddesses," said she,
"See, what a wretch ye made of me:
To send me from among the blest
To one who never gave me rest,
Who every hour new bus'ness finds,
compels me to outstrip the winds,
Though every region, every nation
To sound his endless reputation;
Though I through all the world have flown,
Beyond the stars have made him known,
Yet must I never cease to fly
Till heav'n shall order him to die."

Jove smiling heard, and thus replies,
"You'll have more labor when he dies;
Whenever I immortal make him,
You never can, nor shall forsake him."





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