Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
France: Vols. IX–X. 1876–79.

Dunkirk (Dunkerque)

Peace and Dunkirk

By Jonathan Swift (1667–1745)

SPITE of Dutch friends and English foes,

Poor Britain shall have peace at last:

Holland got towns, and we got blows;

But Dunkirk ’s ours, we ’ll hold it fast.

We have got it in a string,

And the Whigs may all go swing,

For among good friends I love to be plain;

All their false deluded hopes

Will, or ought to end in ropes;

“But the Queen shall enjoy her own again.”

Sunderland ’s run out of his wits,

And Dismal double dismal looks;

Wharton can only swear by fits,

And strutting Hal is off the hooks;

Old Godolphin, full of spleen,

Made false moves, and lost his Queen;

Harry looked fierce, and shook his ragged mane:

But a prince of high renown

Swore he ’d rather lose a crown

“Than the Queen should enjoy her own again.”

Our merchant-ships may cut the line,

And not be snapt by privateers,

And commoners who love good wine

Will drink it now as well as peers:

Landed men shall have their rent,

Yet our stocks rise cent, per cent.

The Dutch from hence shall no more millions drain;

We ’ll bring on us no more debts,

Nor with bankrupts fill gazettes;

“And the Queen shall enjoy her own again.”

The towns we took ne’er did us good:

What signified the French to beat?

We spent our money and our blood,

To make the Dutchmen proud and great:

But the Lord of Oxford swears,

Dunkirk never shall be theirs.

The Dutch-hearted Whigs may rail and complain;

But true Englishmen may fill

A good health to General Hill:

“For the Queen now enjoys her own again.”