As to your spelling, let me fee,

If SHE makes fher, and RI makes
Good fpelling-mafter! your crany

ry,

has lead on't.

ANOTHER REJOINDER,

BY THE DEAN, IN JACKSON'S NAME.

HREE days for answer I have waited,

TH

I thought an ace you'd ne'er have bated, And art thou forc'd to yield, ill-fated

poetafter?

Henceforth acknowledge, that a nose
Of thy dimenfion's fit for prose,
But every one that knows Dan, knows

Blush for ill-fpelling, for ill-lines,
And fly with hurry to ramines;
Thy fame, thy genius now declines,

thy mafter

proud boafter.

I hear with fome concern you roar,
And flying think to quit the score,
By clapping billets on your door

and posts, Sir.

Thy ruin, Tom, I never meant,
I'm griev'd to hear your banishment,
But pleas'd to find you do relent

I maul'd you, when you look'd so bluff,
But now I'll fecret keep your ftuff;

For know, proftration is enough

to th' lion.

SHERIDAN'S SUBMISSION.
BY THE DEAN.

"Cedo jam, miferæ cognofcens præmia rixæ,
"Si risca eft, ubi tu pulfas ego vapulo tantum."
POOR Sherry, inglorious,

ΤΟ

To Dan the victorious,

Prefents, as 'tis fitting,

Petition and greeting.

you, victorious and brave,

Your now fubdued and fuppliant flave
Moft humbly fues for pardon;
Who when I fought still cut me down,
And when I vanquish'd fled the town,
Purfued and laid me hard on.

Now lowly crouch'd I cry peccavi,
And proftrate fupplicate pour ma vie,
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 defign,
But was unwarily drawn in;

For spite I ne'er had any;

'Twas the damn'd 'fquire with the hard name;

The de'el too that ow'd me a fhame,

The devil and Delany;

They

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:

And they, alas! yield small relief,

Seem rather to renew my grief,

My wounds bleed all anew:
For every ftroke goes to my heart,
And at each lafh I feel the smart
Of lash laid on by you.

TO THE REV. DANIEL JACKSON; To be humbly prefented by Mr. SHERIDAN in Perfon, with Refpe&t, Care, and Speed.

DEAR DAN,

ERE I return my truft, nor afk,

H One penny for remittance;

If I have well perform'd my task,
Pray fend me an acquittance.

Too long I bore this weighty pack,
As Hercules the sky;

Now take him you, Dan Atlas, back,

Let me be ftander-by.

Not all the witty things you speak

In compass of a day,

Not half the puns you make a week,

Should bribe his longer stay.

With me you left him out at nurse,
Yet are you not my debtor;
For, as he hardly can be worfe,
I ne'er could make him better.

He rhymes and puns, : and puns ́and rhymes,
Juft as he did before ;

And, when he's lafh'd a hundred times,
He rhymes and puns the more.

When rods are laid on school-boys bums,
The more they frisk and skip:
The school-boy's top but louder hums,
The more they use the whip.

Thus, a lean beast beneath a load

(A beast of Irish breed) Will, in a tedious, dirty road,

Outgo the prancing steed.

You knock him down and down in vain,

And lay him flat before ye,

For, foon as he gets up again,
He'll ftrut, and cry, Victoria!

At every ftroke of mine, he fell,
'Tis true he roar'd and cry'd ;

But his impenetrable shell

Could feel no harm befide.

toise thus, with motion flow,
clamber up a wall;

fenfeless to the hardest blow,

Gets nothing but a fall.

Dear

Dear Dan, then, why fhould you, or I,

Attack his pericrany?

And, fince it is in vain to try,

We'll fend him to Delany.

POSTSCRIPT.

Lean Tom, when I faw him, laft week, on his horfe

awry,

Threaten'd loudly to turn me to ftone with his for

cery.

But, I think, little Dan, that, in spight of what our foe fays,

He will find I read Ovid and his Metamorphofis. For omitting the first (where I make a comparison, With a fort of allufion to Putland * or Harrison) Yet, by my defcription, you'll find he in fhort is. A pack and a garran, a top and a tortoise.

So I hope from henceforward you ne'er will ask, can I maul

This teazing, conceited, rude, infolent animal? And, if this rebuke might turn to his benefit, (For I pity the man) I fhould be glad then of it.

TO DR. SHERIDAN.

On his "ART OF PUNNING."

AD I ten thousand mouths and tongues,

HAD

Had I ten thoufand pair of lungs,
Ten thousand fculls with brains to think,
Ten thousand ftandishes of ink,

Alluding to the Prologue, mentioned above, p. 227.

Ten