Their brother quill-men, workers for the stage,
Fur Corry Buff can get a crown a page;
But Weavers will be kinder to the Players,
And fell for twenty-pence a yard of theirs.
And, to your knowledge, there is often lefs in
The Poet's wit, than in the Player's dreffing.

A POEM, BY DR. DELANY,

GS THI PRECEDING PROLOGUE AND EPILOGUE.

Fœmineo generi tribuantur."

Ter aules, whom the richest filks array,
Rete to fling their thining gowns away:
The pencil clothes the nine in bright brocades,
And gives each colour to the pictur'd maids;
Far above mortal-dress the fifters fhine,
Pride in their Indian robes, and must be fine.
And thall two bards in concert rhyme and huff,
And fret these mufes with their play-house stuff?
The player in mimic piety may storm,
Deplore the comb, and bid her heroes arm:
The arbitrary mob, in paltry rage,
May curfe the belles and chintzes of the age:
Yet fill the artist worm her filk shall share,
And fpin her thread of life in service of the fair,
The cotton-plant, whom fatire cannot blast,
Sal bloom the favourite of these realms, and
laft;

Lke yours, ye fair, her fame from cenfure grows,
Prevels in charms, and glares above her foes:
Your injur'd plant thall meet a loud defence,
And be the emblem of your innocente.
Some bard, perhaps, whofe landlord was a

weaver,

P'd the low prologue, to return a favour :
Se neighbour wit, that would be in the vogue,
Wark'd with his friend, and wove the epilogue.
Who weaves the chaplet, or provides the bays,
fach wool-gathering fonnetteers as these?
Hce then, ye bome-fpun witlings, that perfuade
Chloe to the fashion of het maid.

Stal the wide hoop, that standard of the town,
Thus act fubfervient to a poplin gown?
Who'd imell of wool all over? Tis enough
The under-petticoat be made of ftuff.
Led! to be wrapt in flannel juft in May,
When the fields drefs'd in flowers appear fo

gay!

And fhall not Mifs be flower'd as well as they.
in what weak colours would the plaid appear
Work'd to a quilt, or ftudded in a chair!
Te kia, that vies with filk, would fret with stuff;
Or who could bear in bed a thing fo rough?
Ye kawing fair, how eminent that bed,
Where the chintze diamonds with the filken

thread,

Where rustling curtains call the curious eye,
And boat the freaks and paintings of the sky!
Rocks they'd have your milky ticking full;
And all this for the benefit of wool!

But where," fay they,

these weavers,

"thall we bestow

That spread our streets, and are fuch piteous

cravers?"

The filk-worms (brittle beings!) prone to fate, Demand their care to make their webs complete :

'Tis fo old, and fo ugly, and yet fo convenient, You're fometimes in pleafure, though often in pain [eafe in 't; 'Tis fo large, you may lodge a few friends with You may turn and stretch at your length if you please in't:

'Tis fo little, the family live in a prefs in't, And poor Lady Betty has fcarce room to drefs [in't;

in't:

'Tis fo cold in the winter, you can't bear to lie And fo hot in the fummer, you 're ready to fry in't: [a tun; 'Tis fo brittle, 'twould fearce bear the weight of Yet fo ftaunch, that it keeps out a great deal of fun : [through it,

'Tis fo crazy, the weather with cafe beats quite And you 're forc'd every year in fome part to renew it.

'Tis fo ugly, fo ufeful, fo big, and fo little; 'Tis fo flaunch, and fo crazy, fo ftrong, and fa

THALIA, tell in fober lays,

How George, Nim §, Dan , Dean ¶, pafs their days;

And, fhould our Gaulfton's art grow fallow,
Yet Neget quis carmina Gallo ?
Here (by the way) by Gallus mean I
Not Sheridan, but friend Delany.

Begin, my Mute. Firit from our bowers
We fally forth at different hours;
At feven the Dean, in night-gown drest,
Goes round the houfe to wake the reft;
At nine, grave Nim, and George facetious,
Go to the Dean, to read Lucretius;
At ten, my lady comes and hectors,
And kiffes George, and ends our lecturés;
And when he has him by the neck fait,
Halls him, and fcolds us down to breaktaft.

§ His brother, Mr. John Rochfort, who was called Nimrod, from his great attachment to the chafe. Dr. Swift.

Rev. Daniel Jackson.

We fquander there an hour or more,
And then all hands, boys, to the oar;
All, heteroclite Dan except,
Who neither time nor order kept,
But, by peculiar whimfies drawn,
Peeps in the ponds to look for spawn;
O'erfees the work, or Dragon * rows,
Or mars a text, or mends his hofe ;
Or---but proceed we in our journal---
At two, or after, we return all:
From the four elements afcending,
Warn'd by the bell, all folks come trembling:
From airy garrets fome descend,
Some from the lake's remoteft end:
My Lord † and Dean the fire forfake;
Dan leaves the earthly spade and rake:
The loiterers quake, no corner hides them,
And Lady Betty foundly chides them.
Now water 's brought, and dinner 's done :
With "Church and King" the lady 's gone;
(Not reckoning half an hour we país
In talking o'er a moderate glafs).
Dan, growing drowsy, like a thief
Steals off to dofe away his beef;

And this muit pafs for reading Hammond---
While George and Dean go to backgammon,
George, Nim, and Dean, fet out at four,
And then again, boys, to the oar.
But when the fun goes to the deep,
(Not to disturb him in his fleep,
Or make a rumbling o'er his head,
His candle out, and he a-bed)
We watch his motions to a minute,
And leave the flood when he goes in it.
Now ftinted in the shortening day,
We go to prayers, and then to play,
Till fupper comes; and after that
We fit an hour to drink and chat.
'Tis late---the old and younger pairs,
By Adamlighted, walk up stairs.
The weary Dean goes to his chamber;
And Nim and Dan to garret clamber.
So when the circle we have run,
The curtain falls, and all is done.

I might have mention'd several facts,
Like epifodes between the acts;
And tell who lofes and who wins,
Who gets a cold, who breaks his shins;
How Dan caught nothing in his net,
And how the boat was overfet.
For brevity I have retrench'd

How in the lake the Dean was drench'd:
It would be an exploit to brag on,
How valiant George rode o'er the Dragon;
How fteady in the ftorm he fat,

And fav'd his oar, but loft his hat:
Now Nint (no hunter e'er could match him)
Still brings us hares, when he can catch them:
How skilfully Dan mends his nets;
How fortune fails him when he fets:

Or how the Dean delights to vex

The ladies, and lampoon their fex.

Afmall boat fo called.

Mr. Rochfort's father was Lord Chief Ba

ren of the Ex hequer in Ireland.

The Butler.

I might have told how oft' Dean Percivale
Displays his pedantry unmerciful;
How haughtily he cocks his nofe,
To tell what every school-boy knows;
And with his finger and his thumb,
Explaining, ftrikes oppofers dumb:
But now there needs no more be said on't,
Nor how his wife, that female pedant,
Shows all her fecrets of houfe-keeping;
For candles how the trucks her dripping;
Was forc'd to fend three miles for yeast,
To brew her ale, and raise her paste ;
Tells every thing that you can think of,
How the cur'd Charley of the chincough;
What gave her brats and pigs the measles,
And how her doves were kill'd by weasels;
How Jowler howl'd, and what a fright
She had with dreams the other night.

But now, fince I have gone fo far on,
A word or two of Lord Chief Baron;
And tell how little weight he fets
On all Whig papers and Gazettes;
But for the politics of Pue,
Thinks every fyllable is true.

And fince he owns the King of Sweden
Is dead at laft, without evading,
Now all his hopes are in the Czar :
"Why, Mufcovy is not fo far:

"Down the Black Sea, and up the Streights,
"And in a month he's at your gates;
"Perhaps, from what the packet brings,
"By Christmas we shall fee ftrange things."
Why should I tell of ponds and drains,
What carps we met with for our pains;
Of Sparrows tame, and nuts innumerable
To choke the girls, and to confume a rabble?
But you, who are a scholar, know
How tranfient all things are below,
How prone to change is human life!
Laft night arriv'd Clem * and his wife---
This grand event hath broke our measures;
Their reign began with cruel feizures:
The Dean muft with his quilt fupply
The bed in which those tyrants lie
Nim loft his wig-block, Dan his jordan
(My lady fays, fhe can't afford one);
George is half-fcar'd out of his wits,
For Clem gets all the dainty bits.
Henceforth expect a different survey,
This houfe will foon turn topsy-turvy:
They talk of further alterations,
Which caufes many speculations.

And that I'd rid'cule their 'nd your flam-flim.
Ay' b't then, p’rhaps, says you, t's a m’rry whim
With "bundance of mark'd notes i' th' rim,
So th't I ought n't for t' be morofe 'nd t` look grim,
Think at your 'p'ftle put m' in a meagrim;
Though 'n rep't't'on day, 1 'ppear ver' flim,
Th' laft bowl 't Helfham's did m' head t’swim,
So tht I b'd man' aches 'n 'v'ry scrubb'd limb,
Caule th' top of th' bowl I h'd oft us'd t' skim;
And b'fides D'lan' swears th't I h'd fwall'w'd
f'v'r'l brim-

mens, 'nd that my vis'ge 's covr'd o'er with r'd pimpis: m'r'o'er though m' fcull were (s' tis n't) 's ftrong's tim

ber, `t muff have ak`d. Th' clans of th' c'lledge Sanh'drim,

Pres'nt the'r humbl' and 'fect'nate respects; that 'st' fay, D'lan', 'chlin, P. Ludl', Dic' St'wart, Hisham, capt'n P'rr' Walmil', 'nd Longfh'nks

Timm *.

GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN'S ANSWER.

DEAR Sheridan! a gentle pair

Of Gaulitown lads (for such they are)
Beides a brace of grave divines,
Adore the imoothness of thy lines;
Snooth as our bafon's filver flood,
Le George had robb`d it of its mad;
Smoother than Pegasus' old shoe,
Ere Vulcan comes to make him new.
The board on which we set our a---s,
not fo fmooth as are thy verfes,
Compar'd with which (and that's enough)
A moothing-iron itself is rough.
Nor praife I lefs that circumcifion,
By modern poets call'd ellusion,
With which, in proper station plac'd,
Thy polish'd lines are firmly brac'd.
Tha wife tailor is not pinching,
But terns at every seam an inch in;
Or elfe, be fure, your broad-cloth breeches
Wine'er be fmooth, nor hold their stitches.
Thy verle, like bricks, defy the weather,
When fmooth'd by rubbing them together;
Thy words to clofely wedg'd and fhort are
Like walls, more lafting without mortar:
By leaving out the needlefs vowels,
You fave the charge of lime and trowels.
One letter ftill another locks,

Each groov'd and dove-tail'd like a box.
Thy mufe is tuckt-up and succin&;
In chains thy fyllables are linkt;
Thy words together ty'd in small hanks,
Clafe as the Macedonian phalanx ;
Or like the umbo of the Romans,

Which ferceft foes could break by no means.
The critic to his grief will find,
How firmly thefe indentures bind.

Bin the kindred painter's art,
The fhortening is the niceft part.

Philologers of future ages,

How will they pore upon thy pages!

Nor will they dare to break the joints,
But help thee to be read with points:
Or elfe, to show their learned labour, you
May backward be perus'd like Hebrew
Where they need not lose a bit
Or of thy harmony or wit.

To make a work completely fine,
Number and weight and measure join;
Then all muft grant your lines are weighty.
Where thirty weigh as much as eighty.
All must allow your numbers more,
Where twenty lines exceed fourscore;
Nor can we think our measure short,
Where less than forty fill a quart,
With Alexandrian in the close,
Long, long, long, long, like Dan's long nofe.

GEORGE NIM-DAN-DEAN'S INVITATION TO THOMAS SHERIDAN.

Gaulftown, Aug. 2. 1721.

DEAR Tom, this verfe, which however the beginning may appear, yet in the end's good metre, Is fent to defire that, when your August vacation comes, your friends you'd meet here.

For why fhould you ftay in that filthy hole, I mean the city fo fmoky,

When you have not one friend left in town, or at leaft not one that's witty, to joke w' ye?

For, as for honeft John", though I'm not fure on't, yet I'll be hang'd, left he

Be gone down to the county of Wexford with that great peer the Lord Anglefey.

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 foe, Delany:

But, however, if he be come, bring him down, and you shall 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, friend Helfham, be

That wrote the prologuet, and if you stay with him, depend ont't, in the end, he'll sham ye. Bring down Long Shanks Jim too; but now Į think on't, he's not yet come from Courtown, I fancy;

For I heard, a month ago, that he was down there, a-courting fly Nancy.

However, bring down yourfelf, and you bring

down all; for, to fay it we may venture,

In thee Delany's spleen, John's mirth, Heltham's jokes, and the foft foul of amorous Jemmy centre.

Swift's Works."

66

TO GEORGE NIM-DAN-DEAN, ESQ.
Upon his incomparable Verfes, &c.
BY DR. DELANY, IN SHERIDAN'S NAME.
HAIL, human compound quadrifarious,
Invincible as Wight Briareus!
Hail! doubly-doubled mighty merry one,
Stronger than triple-body'd Geryon !
O may your vaftnefs deign t' excufe
The praifes of a puny mufe,
Unable, in her utmoft flight,
To reach thy huge Coloffian height.
T'attempt to write like thee were frantic,
Whofe lines are, like thyfelf, gigantic.

Yet let me blefs, in humbler ftrain,
Thy vait, thy bold Cambyfian vein,
Pour'd out t' enrich thy native ife,
As Egypt wont to be with Nile.
Oh, how I joy to fee thee wander,
In many a winding loofe meander,
In circling mazes, imooth and fupple,"
And ending in a clink quadruple;
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;
Here all comparing would be flandering,
The leaft is more than Alexandrine.

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

Thou haft alone the skill to feaft
With Roman elegance of tafte,
Who haft of thynies as faft refources
As Pompey's caterer of courses.

Oh thou, of all the Nine infpir'd!
My languid foul, with teaching tir'd,
How is it raptur'd, when it thinks
On thy harmonious fet of clinks;
Each anfwering each in various rhymes,
Like echo to St. Patrick's chimes!

Thy mufe, majeftic in her rage,
Moves like Statira on the ftage;
And fcarcely can one page iuftain
The length of tuch a flowing train:
Her train, of variegated dye,
Shows like 1 haumantia's in the sky;

Thefe were all written in circles.

Alike they glow, alike they pleafe,
Alike impreft by Phoebus' rays.

Thy verfe-(Ye Gods! I cannot bear it)
To what, to what fhall I compare it?
'Tis like, what I have oft' heard spoke on,
The famous ftatue of Laocoon.
"Tis like---O yes, 'tis very like it,
Tis like what you, and one or too more,
The long, long ftring, with which you fly kite
Roar to your Echo in good humour;
And every couplet thou hast writ
Conclude like Rattab-whittab-whit f.

TO MR. THOMAS SHERIDAN. Upon his Verfes written in Circles.

BY DR. SWIFT.

IT never was known that circular letters,
By humble companions, were fent to their b

ters:

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

That we walk all about, like a horfe in a pou And, before we find either, our noddies t round. [ra Sufficient it were, one would think, in your n To give us your meafures of line by a quadr But we took our dividers, and found your

metre,

d-.

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

'Twill appear, to your coft, you are fairly pann'd,

For the chord of your circle is now in their har The chord, or the radius, it matters not whet By which your jade Pegafus, fixt in a tether, As her betters are us'd, thall be lafh'd round [the tri Three follows with whips, and the Dean h Will Hancock declares, you are out of your co pafs,

ring,

Well, that's but my outfide, fays Dan with a

vapour.

Say you fo, fays my Lady; I've lin'd it with paPATR. DELANY fculp.

She rais'd up a thread to the jet of his jaw-bone;
Tail at length in exacteft proportion he rofe,
From the crown of his head to the arch of his
[all,
And if Lady Betty had drawn him with wig and
Tis certain the copy had out-done the original.

nole.

*See" Apollo to the Dean." p. 199.

per.

ON THE SAME PICTURE.
CLARISSA draws her fciffars from the cafe,
To draw the lines of poor Dan Jackson's face.
One floping cut made forehead, nofe, and chin;
A nick produc'd a mouth, and made him grin,
Such as in tailors' meafure you have feen.
For which grey worfted ftocking paint fupplies.
But ftill were wanting his grimalkin eyes,
Th' unravel'd thread through needle's eye con
vey'd

Transferr'd itself into his pasteboard head.
How came the fciffars 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 fwear the pafteboard was the better man.
"The devil!" fays he, "the head is not fo full !"
Indeed it is---behold the paper skull.

THO. SHERIDAN feulp.

ON THE SAME PICTURE.

DAN's evil genius in a trice
Had ftripp'd him of his coin at dice.
Chloe, obferving this difgrace,
On Pam cut out his rueful face.
By G--, fays Dan, 'tis very hard,
Cut out at dice, cut out at card!

G. ROCHEFORT Sculp

ON THE SAME PICTURE.
WHILST you three merry poets traffic
To give us a defcription graphic
Of Dan's large nofe in modern Sapphic;
Or writing libels on the Germans,
I spend my time in making Sermons,
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 recollect her,
And tell, who was it could direct her
To draw the face of such a spectre.
I must confefs, that as to me, Sirs,
Though I ne'er faw her hold the iciffars,
I now could fafely fwear it is hers.
'Tis true no nofe could come in better;
'Tis a vaft fubject stuff'd with matter,
Which all may handle, none can flatter.
That not the wifeft mortal knows
Take courage, Dan; this plainly fhows,
What fortune may befall his nose.
Shew me the brightest Irish toast,
Who from her lover e'er could boast
Above a fong, or two at molt;

For thee three poets now are drudging all
To praife the cheeks, chin, nose, the bridge and all
Both of the picture and the original

Dj