Sarcasm was Swift's foible. But we must remember that the age in which he lived was that of Satire. Humour then took that form as in the latter days of Rome. Critical acumen had attained a considerable height, but the state of affairs was not sufficiently settled and tranquil to foster mutual forbearance and amity. Swift, it must be granted, was not so personal as most of his contemporaries, seeking in his wit rather to amuse his friends than to wound his rivals. But his scoffing spirit made him enemies--some of whom taking advantage of certain expressions on church matters in "The Tale of a Tub" prejudiced Queen Anne, and placed an insuperable obstacle in the way of his ambition. He writes of himself. "Had he but spared his tongue and pen He might have rose like other men; But power was never in his thought And wealth he valued not a groat." In his poem on his own death, written in 1731, he concludes with the following general survey-- "Perhaps I may allow the Dean Had too much satire in his vein; And seemed determined not to starve it, Because no age could more deserve it. Yet malice never was his aim He lashed the vice, but spared the name: No individual could repent Where thousands equally meant; His satire points out no defect But what all mortals may correct: For he abhorred that senseless tribe Who call it humour, when they gibe: He spared a hump or crooked nose Whose owners set not up for beaux. Some genuine dulness moved his pity Unless it offered to be witty. Those who their ignorance confessed He ne'er offended with a jest; But laughed to hear an idiot quote A verse of Horace, learned by drote. He knew a hundred pleasing stories With all the turns of Whigs and Tories; Was cheerful to his dying day, And friends would let him have his way. He gave the little wealth he had To build a house for fools and mad; And showed by one satiric touch, No nation wanted it so much, That kingdom he has left his debtor, I wish it soon may have a better."