WITH a whirl of thoughts oppress’d, <br />I sunk from reverie to rest. <br />A horrid vision seized my head, <br />I saw the graves give up their dead! <br />Jove, arm’d with terrors, bursts the skies, <br />And thunder roars and lightning flies! <br />Amazed, confused, its fate unknown, <br />The world stands trembling at his throne! <br />While each pale sinner hung his head, <br />Jove, nodding, shook the heavens, and said: <br />“Offending race of human kind, <br />By nature, reason, learning, blind; <br />You who, through frailty, stepp’d aside; <br />And you, who never fell from pride: <br />You who in different sects were shamm’d, <br />And come to see each other damn’d; <br />(So some folk told you, but they knew <br />No more of Jove’s designs than you <br />—The world’s mad business now is o’er, <br />And I resent these pranks no more. <br />—I to such blockheads set my wit! <br />I damn such fools!—Go, go, you’re bit.”<br /><br />Jonathan Swift<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-world-3/
