Oh! but I forgot; perhaps, by this time you may have one come to town, but I don't know whether he be friend or fee, Felary;

But, however, if he come, bring him down, and you fall go back in a fortnight, for I know there's no delaying ye

Oh! I forgot too; I believe there may be one more: I mean that great fat joker, frien Eel

he

That wrote the prologue, and if you ftay with him, depend on 't, in the end he'll fhum ye. Bring down Long Shanks Jim too; but, now I thin on 't, he 's not yet come from Courtown, I fancy; For I heard, a mouth ago, that he was down there a-courting By N However, bring down yourfelf, and you bring down all; for to fay it we may venture, In thee Dela y's fpleen, John's mirth, Helam's jokes, and the soft soul of amorous Jemmy,

enter.

ንጻር ሃ.

POSTSCRIPT.

1

I had forgot to defire you to bring down what I fay you have, and you'll believe me as fure as a gun, and own it;

I mean, what no other mortal in the univerfe can boaft of, your own spirit of fun, and own w`1. And now I hope you'll excufe this rhyming, which I mutt fay is (though written somewhat at rge) trim and clear;

And I conclude, with humble respects as ufual, Your most dutiful and obedient GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN

TO GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN, Efq.
Upon his incomparable VERSES, &c,
By Dr. DELANY, in SHERIDAN's Namet.
TAIL, human compound quadrifarious,

H Invincible as Wight Briareus!

Hail! doubly-doubled mighty merry one,
Stronger than triple-body'd Geryon !
O may your vaftnefs deign t' excufe
The praises of a puny Mufe,
Unable in her utmolt fight,
To reach thy huge Coloan height.
T' attempt to write li e thee were frantie,
Whofe lines are, like thyfelf, giga tic.
Yet let me blef, in humbler tirain,
Thy vat, thy bold amby an vein,
Pour'd out t'enrich thy rative ife,
As Egypt wout to be with Nile.
Oh, how I icy to fee thee wander,
In may a winding loofe meander,
In circling mazes, fmooth and fupple,
And ending in a clink quadruple;

One faken by young Putland, in 1720, before Hippolytus, in which Dr. Sher dan (who had written a trologue for the occafion) was me unexpectedly ard egregically laughed at. Both the prologues are printed in the "Supplement to Swift's Works,” N. These were all written in circles.

Loud, yet agreeable withal,
Like rivers rattling in their fall!
Thine fure, is poetry divine,
Where wit and majesty combine;
Where every line as huge as feven,
If stretch'd in length, would reach to Heaven s
Here all comparing would be flandering,
The leaft is more than Alexa drive.

Againft thy verfe Time fees with pain,
He whets his envious scythe in vain ;
For, though from thee he much may pare
Yet much thou ftill wilt have to spare.

Thou hatt alone the fill to feaft
With Roma, elegance of taste,
Who haft of rhymes as vaft refources
As Pompey's caterer of courses.

Oh thou, of all the Nice in'pir'd!
My languid foul, with teaching tir'd,
How is it raptur'd, wher it thinks
On thy barmo,ious set of clinks;
Each answering each in various rhymes
Life Echo to St. Patr e chimes!

Thy Mufe, majestic in her rage,
Moves like Statira on the ftage;
And fcarcely can one page fuftain
The length of such a flowing train:
Her train, of variegated dye,
Alike they glow, ali re they please,
Shew like Thaumantia's in the fky:
Alike impreft by Phœbus rays.

Thy verfe (Ye God! I cannot bear it)
To what, to what fall I compar: it?
'Tis like, what I have oft' heard spoke on,
The famous ftatue of Lacenon.

is litem yes, tis very live it,

The loug, long ring, with which you fly kite
''is like what you, and one or two more,
Roar to your Echo* in good-humour;
And every couplet t'ou had writ
Conclude like Rattab cokitṭan-whit†.

To Mr. THOMAS SHERIDAN,

Upon his Verfes written in Circles. By Dr. Sw 1FT.

r

I never was known that circular letters,

By humble companions, were sent to their
betters:

And, as to the fubject, our judgment, mehercle,
Is this, that you argue like fools in a circle.
But now for your verfes; we tell you, imprimis,
The fegment fo large 'twixt your reafon and
rhyme is,

That we walk all about, like a horse in a pound.
A d,leiere we find either, our noddles turn round.
Sufficient it were, one would think, in your mad

rait.

To give us your meafures of line by a quadrant. But we took our dividers, and found your d—n'd

metre,

In each fingle verfe took up a diameter.
But how Mr. Sheridan, came you to venture
George, Dao, Dean and Nim, to place in the
centr?

At Gaulftown there is a remarkable famous echa.
An alusion to the found produced by the echo.
Their figures were in the centre of the versetz

By G, fays Dan, 'tis very hard, Cut out at dice, cut out at card!

ON THE SAME PICTURE.

WHILS

THILST you three merry poets traffic
To give us a defcription graphic
Of Dan's large nofe in modern Sapphic;

I fpend my time in making Sermons,
Or writing libels on the Germans,
Or murmuring at Whigs' preferments.

But when I would find rhyme for Rochfort,

And look in English, French, and Scotch for 't, At laft I'm fairly forc'd to botch for 't,

Bid Lady Betty recolled her,

And tell, who was it could direct her
To draw the face of fuch a spectre.

I must confefs, that as to me, Sirs,
Though I ne'er faw her hold the feiffars,
I now could fafely fwear it is hers.,
'Tis true, no nofe could come in better;
'Tis a vaft fubje&t fluff'd with matter,
Which all may handle, none can flatter.
Take courage, Dan; this plainly fhows,
That not the wifeft mortal knows
What fortune may be fall his nofe.
Shew me the brightest Irish toast,
Who from her lover e'er could boast

Above a fong, or two at moft;

For thee three poets now are drudging all

Both to the picture and the face,

I should name them who do rehearfe
The story of the picture-farce;
The Squire, in French as hard as stone,
Or ftrong as rock, that's all as one,
On face, on cards is very briik, Sirs,
Becaufe on then you play at whisk, Sirs,
But much I wonder, why my crany
Should envy'd be by De-el-any:
And yet much more, that half-name fake
Should join a party in the freak:
For fure I am it was not fafe
Thus to abuse his better half,
As I shall prove you, Dan, to be,
Divifin and conjunctively.

For if Dan love not Sherry, can
Sherry be any thing to Dan?
This is the cafe whene'er you see
Dan makes nothing of Sherry;

Or fhould Dan be by Sherry o'erta'en,
Then Dan would be poor Sherridane:
'Tis hard then he frould be decry'd
By Dan with Sherry by his fide.
But, if the cafe muft be fo hard,
That faces fuffer by a card,

Let eriticks cenfure, what oare I?
Back-biters only we de1y:
Faces are free from injury.

MR. ROCHFORT'S REPLY.

OU fay your face is better hung

Both of the picture and original.

Thy nefe's length and fame extend So far, dear Dan, that every friend Tries who fhall have it by the end. And future poets, as they rife, Shall read with envy and furprise Thy nofe out hining Celia's eyes.

In not explaining, you are wrong

DAN JACKSON'S DEFENCE.

"My verfe little better you'll find than my face is, "A word to the wife-ut pillura poefis.”

HREE merry lads, with envy ftung,
Becaufe Dan's face is better hung,
Compin'd in verse to rhyme it down,
And in its place fet up their own;
As if they 'd run it down much better
By number of their feet in metre,
Or that its red did cause their spite,
Which made them draw in black and white.
Be that as 'twill, this is most true,
They were infpir'd by what they drew.
Let them fuch criticks know, my face
Gives them their comeliness and grace:

with many

dear Danny.

of love, Sir.

SHERIDAN'S SUBMISSION.

BY THE DEAN.

"Cedo jam, mifere cognofcens præmia rixe, "Si rixa eft, ubi tu pulías, ego vapulo tantum." POOR Sherry, inglorious,

To Dan the victorious,
Prefents, as 'tis fitting,
Petition and greeting.

TO you victorious and brave,
Your now-fubdued and fuprliant flave

Moft humbly fues for pardon;
Who when I fought ftill cut me down,
And when I vanifh'd fled the town,
Purfued and laid me hard on.
Now lowly crouch'd I cry peccavi,
And proftrate fupplicateur ma vię:
Your mercy I rely on:

For you, my conqueror and my king, In pardoning, as in punishing,

Will fhew yourself a lion.

Alas! Sir, I had no def gn,

But was unwarily drawn in;
For fpite I ne'er had any:

dull pedant!

Dan's noble mettle, Sherry base;
So Dan 's the better, though the lefs:
An ounce of gold 's worth ten of brass,
As to your fpelling, let me fee,
If SHE makes fher, and RJ makes ry,
Good spelling-master! your crany

VOL. V.

has lead on 't.

The devil and Delany;

They tempted me t'attack your highness, And then, with wonted wile and flynefs,

They left me in the lurch:

Unhappy wretch!' for now, I ween,
I've nothing left to vent my fpleen
But ferula and birch:

S &