That we walk all about, like a horse in a pound,
And, before we find either, our noddies turn round.
Sufficient it were, one would think, in your mad rant,
To give us your measures of line by a quadrant.
But we took our dividers, and found your d--n'd
In each single verse took up a diameter. [inetre,
But how, Mr. Sheridan, came you to venture
George, Dan, Dean, and Nim, to place in the
centre 1?

Twill appear, to your cost, you are fairly trepann'd
For the chord of your circle is now in their hand;
The chord, or the radius, it matters not whether,
By which your jade Pegasus, fixt in a tether,
As her betters are us'd, shall be lash'd round the
ring,
[string.
Three fellows with whips, and the dean holds the
Will Hancock declares, you are out of your com-
To encroach on his art by writing of bombass; [pass.
And has taken just now a firm resolution
To answer your style without circumlocution.

Lady Betty2 presents you her service most humble, And is not afraid your worship will grumble, [Tam3, That she makes of your verses a hoop for miss Which is all at present; and so I remain

ON DR. SHERIDAN'S

CIRCULAR VERSES.

BY MR. GEORGE ROCH FORT.

WITH music and poetry equally blest,
A bard thus Apollo most humbly addrest:
"Great author of harmony, verses, and light!
Assisted by thee, I both fiddle and write.
Yet unheeded I scrape, or I scribble all day;
My verse is neglected, my tune 's thrown away.
Thy substitute here, Vice-Apollo 1, disdains
To vouch for my numbers, or list to my strains;
Thy manual signet refuses to put

To the airs I produce from the pen or the gut.
Be thou then propitious, great Phoebus, and grant
Relief, or reward, to my merit, or want.

[abode:

Though the Dean and Delany transcendently shine,
O brighten one solo or sounet of mine!
With them I'm content thou should'st make thy
But visit thy servant in jig or in ode.
Make one work immortal; 'tis all I request."
Apollo look'd pleas'd; and resolving to jest,
Reply'd, "Honest friend, I've consider'd thy case;
Nor dislike thy well-meaning and humourous face.
Thy petition I grant: the boon is not great:
Thy works shall continue; and here 's the receipt.
On rondeaus hereafter thy fiddle strings spend :
Write verses in circles; they never shall end."

ON

DAN JACKSON'S PICTURE,

CUT IN SILK AND PAPER.

To fair lady Betty, Dan sat for his picture,
And defy'd her to draw him so oft' as he piqu'd her.

1 Their figures were in the centre of the verses.

2 The lady of George Rochfort, esq.

3 Miss Thomason, lady Betty's daughter.

1 See Apollo to the Dean, p. 409.

He knew she 'd no pencil or colouring by her,
And therefore he thought he might safely defy her.
Come sit, says my lady; then whips up her scissar,
And cuts out his coxcomb in silk in a trice, sir.
Dan sat with attention, and saw with surprise [eyes;
How she lengthen'd his chin, how she hollow'd his
But flatter'd himself with a secret conceit,
That his thin lantern jaws all her art would defeat.
Lady Betty observ'd it, then pulls out a pin,
And varies the grain of the stuff to his grim;
And, to make roasted silk to resemble his raw-bone,
She rais'd up a thread to the jet of his jaw bone;
Till at length in exactest proportion he rose,
From the crown of his head to the arch of his nose.
And if lady Betty had drawn him with wig and all,
'Tis certain the copy had out-done the original.
Well, that's but my outside, says Dan with a vapour.
Say you so, says my lady; I've lin'd it with paper.
Patr. Delany scutp.

ON THE SAME PICTURE.

CLARISSA draws her scissars from the case,
To draw the lines of poor Dan Jackson's face.
One sloping cut made forehead, nose, and chin;
A nick produc'd a mouth, and made him grin,
Such as in taylors' measure you have seen.
But still were wanting his grimalkin eyes,
For which grey worsted-stocking paint supplies.
Th' unravel'd thread through needle's eye convey
Transferr'd itself into his paste-board head.
How came the scissars to be thus out-done?
The needle had an eye, and they had none.
O wondrous force of art! now look at Dan-
You'll swear the paste-board was the better man.
"The devil!" says he, "the head is not so full !"
Indeed it is--behold the paper skull.

Tho. Sheridan sculp.

ON THE SAME PICTURE.
WHILST you three merry poets traffic
To give us a description graphic

Of Dans's large nose in modern Sapphic;

I spend 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 last I'm fairly fore'd to botch for 't

Bid lady Betty recollect her,
And tell, who was it could direct he
To draw the face of such a spect e.

I must confess, that as to me, sirs,
Though I ne'er saw her hold the scissars,
I now could safely swear it is hers.
'Tis true, no nose could come in better;
Tis a vast subject stuff'd with matter,
Which all may handle, none can flatter.
Take courage, Dan; this plainly shows,
That not the wisest mortal knows
What fortune may befall his nose.
Show me the brightest Irish toast,

Who from her lover e'er could boast

Above a song, or two at most;

For thee three poets now are drudging all

DAN JACKSON'S DEFENCE.

My vee little better you'll find than my face is.
A word to the wise--ut pictura poesis.

THREE merry lads, with envy stung,
Because Dan's face is better hung,
Combin'd in verse to rhyme it down,
And in its place set 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 inspir'd by what they drew.
Let them such critics know, my face
Gives them their comeliness and grace:
Whilst every line of face does bring
A line of grace to what they sing.
But yet, methinks, though with disgrace
Both to the picture and the face,
I should name them who do rehearse
The story of the picture-farce;
The squire, in French as hard as stone,
Or strong as rock, that's all as one,
On face, on cards is very brisk, sirs,
Because on them 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 sake
Should join a party in the freak ;
For sure I am it was not safe
Thus to abuse his better half,
As I shall prove you, Dan, to be,
Divisin and conjunctively.
For if Dan love not Sherry, can
Sherry be any thing to Dan?
This is the case whene'er you see
Dan makes nothing of Sherry;

Or should Dan be by Sherry o'erta'en,
Then Dau would be poor Sherridane:
'Tis hard then he should be decry'd
By Dan with Sherry by his side,

Th' untimely end 's a damn'd disgrace

of noose, sir..

Which you yourself wonder the de'el should malign.
And if 'tis so strange, that your monstership's crany
Should be envy'd by him, much less by Delany.
Though I own to you, when I consider it stricter,
I envy the painter, although not the picture.
And justly she's envy'd, since a fiend of Hell
Was never drawn right but by her and Raphael.
Next, as to the charge, which you tell us is true,
That we were inspir'd by the subject we drew;
Inspir'd we were, and well, sir, you knew it,
Yet not by your nose, but the fair one that drew it :
Had your nose been the muse, we had ne'er been
inspir'd,
[fir'd.
Though perhaps it might justly 've been said we were
As to the division of words in your staves,
Like my countryman's horn-comb, into three halves,
I meddle not with 't, but presume to make merry.
You call'd Dan one half, and t'other half Sherry:
Now if Dan's a half, as you call 't o'er and o'er,
Then it can't be deny'd that Sherry 's two more :
For pray give me leave to say, sir, for all you,
That Sherry's at least of double the value.
But perhaps, sir, you did it to fill up the verse :
So crowds in a concert (like actors in farce)
Play two parts in one, when scrapers are scarce.
But be that as 'twill, you'll know more anon, sir,
When Sheridan sends to Merry Dan answer.

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

Will show yourself a lion.
Alas! sir, I had no design,
But was unwarily drawn in;

For spite I ne'er had any:

'Twas the damn'd 'squire with the hard names
The de'el too that ow'd me a shame,
The devil and Delany;

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

They left me in the lurch:
Unhappy wretch! for now, I ween,
I've nothing left to rent my spleen
But ferula and birch:

And they, alas! yield small relief,
Seem rather to renew my grief;

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

and posts, sir.

Cedo jam, miseræ cognoscens præmia rive,
Si risca est, ubi tu pulsas ego vapulo tantum.

POOR Sherry, inglorious
To Dan the victorious,
Presents, as 'tis fitting,
Petition and greeting.

TO you victorious and brave,
Your now-subdued and suppliant slave
Most humbly sues for pardon;
Who when I fought still cut me down,
And when I vanish'd fled the town,
Pursued and laid me hard on.
Now lowly crouch'd I cry peccavi,
And prostrate supplicate pour ma vie :
Your mercy I rely on;

TO THE

REV. DANIEL JACKSON;

TO BE HUMBLY PRESENTED BY MR. SHERIDAN IN PER-
SON, WITH RESPECT, CARE, AND SPEED.
DEAR DAN,

HERE I return my trust, nor ask

One penny for remittance;
If I have well perform'd my task,
Pray send me an acquittance.
Too long I bore this weighty pack,
As Hercules the sky;

Now take him you, Dan Atlas, back,
Let me be stander-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 worse,

I ne'er could make him better.

He rhymes and puns, and puns and rhymes,
Just as he did before;

And, when he 's lash'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, soon as he gets up again,
He'll strut, and cry, Victoria!