TO MR. THOMAS SHERIDAN,

UPON HIS VERSES WRITTEN IN CIRCLES.

BY DR. SWIFT.

It never was known that circular letters,
By humble companions were sent to their betters:
And, as to the subject, our judgment, meherc'le,
Is this, that you argue like fools in a circle.
But now for your verses; we tell you, imprimis,
The segment so large 'twixt your reason and
rhyme is,

That we walk all about, like a horse in a pound,
And, before we find either, our noddles 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 metre,

In each single verse, took up a diameter.

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, fix'd in a tether,

There were four human figures in the centre of the circular verses.---F.

As his betters are used, shall be lash'd round the ring, Three fellows with whips, and the Dean holds the string.

Will Hancock declares, you are out of your compass,
To encroach on his art by writing of bombast;
And has taken just now a firm resolution
To answer your style without circumlocution.

1

Lady Betty presents you her service most humble,

And is not afraid your worship will grumble,
That she make of your verses a hoop for Miss Tam.?
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 tunes thrown away.
Thy substitute here, Vice Apollo, disdains

Daughter of the Earl of Drogheda, and married to George Rochfort, Esq.---F.

2 Miss Thomason, Lady Betty's daughter, then, perhaps, about a year old; afterwards married to Gustavus Lambert, Esq. of Paynstown, in the county of Meath.---Scott.

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.

Though the Dean and Delany transcendently shine,
O brighten one solo or sonnet of mine!

With them I'm content thou shouldst make thy abode;

But visit thy servant in jig or in ode;

Make one work immortal: 'tis all I request.'

Apollo look'd pleased; and, resolving to jest, Replied, "Honest friend, I've consider'd thy case; Nor dislike thy well-meaning and humorous 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 defied her to draw him so oft as he piqued her,
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 How she lengthen'd his chin, how she hollow'd his

eyes;

But flatter'd himself with a secret conceit,

That his thin lantern jaws all her art would defeat.
Lady Betty observed it, then pulls out a pin,
And varies the grain of the stuff to his grin:
And, to make roasted silk to resemble his raw-bone,
She raised 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 outdone the original.

Well, that's but my outside, says Dan, with a
vapour;

Say you so? says my lady; I've lined it with paper. PATR. DELANY sculpsit.

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 produced a mouth, and made him grin,
Such as in tailor's measure you have seen.
But still were wanting his grimalkin eyes,
For which gray worsted stocking paint supplies.
Th' unravell'd thread through needle's eye convey'd,

Transferr'd itself into his pasteboard head.
How came the scissars to be thus outdone?
The needle had an eye, and they had none.
O wondrous force of art! now look at Dan-

You'll swear the pasteboard was the better man.
"The devil!" says he,
the head is not so full !"

66

Indeed it is-behold the

paper

skull.

THO. SHERIDAN sculp.

ON THE SAME.

If you say this was made for friend Dan, you belie it, I'll swear he's so like it that he was made by it. THO. SHERIDAN sculp.

ON THE SAME PICTURE.

DAN's evil genius in a trice
Had stripp'd him of his coin at dice.
Chloe, observing this disgrace,
On Pam cut out his rueful face.
By G—, says Dan, 'tis very hard,
Cut out at dice, cut out at card !

G. ROCHFORT Sculp.