These rather disgusting images are depicted in “structural and verbal elements,” such as the metaphor of the cloud “[swallowing] more liquor than it could contain,/ And like a drunkard gives it up again” (p.1220, Lines 15-16). Swift unites melodic metaphors with squeamish descriptions of “shooting corns, old throbbing aches, and a raging hollow tooth” (p.1220, Lines 9-10). He also creates a connection between this filthy shower caused by the drunkard cloud and the entire London population with various imagery- inexplicably including the aristocracy reading his work: “The Templer spruce/ Stays till ‘tis fair, yet seems to call a coach/ The tucked-up seamstress [walking] with hasty strides/ Here various kinds by various fortunes led” (p.1220, Lines 35-39). The final structural notion is the mess that washes through the streets as the rain falls, the “city shower,” as a triplet of the final three lines: “Sweepings from butchers’ stalls, dung, guts and blood/ Drowned puppies, stinking sprats, all drenched in mud/ Dead cats and turnip tops come tumbling down the flood” (p.221, Lines
These rather disgusting images are depicted in “structural and verbal elements,” such as the metaphor of the cloud “[swallowing] more liquor than it could contain,/ And like a drunkard gives it up again” (p.1220, Lines 15-16). Swift unites melodic metaphors with squeamish descriptions of “shooting corns, old throbbing aches, and a raging hollow tooth” (p.1220, Lines 9-10). He also creates a connection between this filthy shower caused by the drunkard cloud and the entire London population with various imagery- inexplicably including the aristocracy reading his work: “The Templer spruce/ Stays till ‘tis fair, yet seems to call a coach/ The tucked-up seamstress [walking] with hasty strides/ Here various kinds by various fortunes led” (p.1220, Lines 35-39). The final structural notion is the mess that washes through the streets as the rain falls, the “city shower,” as a triplet of the final three lines: “Sweepings from butchers’ stalls, dung, guts and blood/ Drowned puppies, stinking sprats, all drenched in mud/ Dead cats and turnip tops come tumbling down the flood” (p.221, Lines