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 vaftnets deign t' excufe
The praifes of a puny mufe,
Unable, in her utmott flight,
To reach thy huge Coloflian height.
Tattempt to write like thee were frantic,
Whofe lines are, like thyfelf, gigantic.

Yet let me blefs, in humbler train,
Thy vaft, thy bold Cambyfian vein,
Four'd out t' enrich thy native ifle,
As Egypt wont to be with Nile.
Oh, how I joy to fee thee wander,
In many a winding loofe meander,
In circling mazes, fmooth 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 firetch'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 fill wilt have to spare.

Thou haft alone the kill to feat
With Roman elegance of tafte,
Who haft of rhymes as faft refources
As Pompey's caterer of courfes.

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 harmonicus fet of clinks;
Each anfwering each in various rhymes,
Like echo to St. Patrick's chimes!

Thy mufe, majestic in her rage,
Moves like Statira on the ftage;
And fcarcely can one page fuftain
The length of fuch a flowing train:
Her train, of variegated dye,
Shows like Thaumantia's in the sky;

Thefe were all written in circles.

Alike they glow, alike they please,
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 haft writ Conclude like Rattab-whittah-whit .

"grant

"Relief, or reward, to my merit, or want. "Though the Dean and Delany tranfcendently "thine,

"O brighten one folo or fonnet of mine!

"With them I'm content thou should't make "thy abode :

But vifit thy fervant in jig or in ode, "Make one work immortal; 'tis all I request." Apollo look'd pleas'd; and, refolving to jeft, Reply'd, "Honeft friend, I've confider'd thy cafe "Nor diflike thy well meaning and humourous "face.

Thy petition I grant; the boon is not great: Thy works hall continue; and here's the re

"ceipt,

On rondeaus hereafter thy fiddle-ftrings spend : * Write verses in circles; they never shall end."

;

Lady Betty obferv'd it, then pulls out a pin,
And varies the grain of the stuff to his grin;
And, to make roafted filk to refemble his raw-
bone,

She rais'd up a thread to the jet of his jaw-bone;
Till at length in exacteft proportion he rose,
From the crown of his head to the arch of his
nofe.

[all, And if Lady Betty had drawn him with wig and *Tis certain the copy had out-done the original.

See" Apollo to the Dean.” p. 199.

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;7
A nick produc'd a mouth, and made him grin,
Such as in tailors' meafure you have seen.
But still were wanting his grimalkin eyes,
For which grey worfted ftocking paint fupplies.
Th' unravel'd thread through needle's eye cons
vey'd

Transferr'd itself into his pasteboard head.
How came the fcillars 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 fculp.

ON THE SAME PICTURE.
WHILST you three merry poets traffic
To give us a defcription graphic
Of Dan'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 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 fciffars,
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.
Take courage, Dan; this plainly shows,
That not the wifeft mortal knows
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 most;

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

DAN JACKSON'S DEFENCE.

"My verfe little better you'll find than my face is
"A word to the wife-ut picura pcëfis.”
THREE merry lads, with envy ftung,
Because Dan's face is better hung,
Combin❜d in verfe 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 moft true,
They were infpir'd by what they drew.
Let them fuch critics know, my face
Gives them their comlinefs and grace:
Whilft every line of face does bring
A line of grace to what they fing.
But yet methinks, though with difgrace
Both to the picture and the face,
I fhould name them who do rehearse
The ftory 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 brifk, 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, than hali-name fake
Should join a party in the freak;
For fure I am it was not fafe
Thus to abufe his better half,
As I fhall prove you, Dan, to be,
Divifim and conjunctively.
For if Dan love not Sherry, can
Sherry be any thing to Dan?
This is the cafe whene'er you fee
Dan makes nothing of Sherry;

Or fhould Dan be by Sherry o'erta'en,
Then Dan would be poor Sherridane:
'Tis hard then he fhould be decry'd
By Dan with Sherry by his fide.
But, if the cafe must be fo hard,
That faces fuffer by a card,
Let critics cenfure, what care I?
Back-biters only we defy:
Faces are free from injury.

MR. ROCHFORT'S REPLY.

You fay your face is better hung
Than ours---by what? by nofe or tongue?
In not explaining, you are wrong

Because we thus uruft ftate the cafe,
That you have got a hanging face,
Th' untimely end's a damn'd disgrace

of noofe, Sir.

fyllables.

the tables.

DR. DELANY'S REPLY.

ASSIST me, my Mufe, whilft I labour to limn him:
Credite, Pifones, ifli tabulæ perfimilem.
You look and you write with to different a grace,
That I envy your verse, tho' I did not your face.
And to him that thinks rightly, there's reafon
enough,

'Cause one is as fmooth as the other is rough.
But much I'm amaz'd you should think my
defign
quin grin,
Was to rhyme down your nofe, or your harle-
Which you yourself wonder the de'el fhould

malign.

And if 'tis fo ftrange, that your monftership's crany
Should be envy'd by him, much lefs by Delany.
Though I own to you, when I confider it stricter,
I envy the painter, although not the picture.
And juftly the's envy'd, fince 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 infpir'd by the fubject we drew;
Infpir'd we were, and well, Sir, you knew it,
Yet not by your nofe, but the fair one that drew it:
Had your note been the mufe, we had ne'er been
inspir'd,

Though perhaps it might justly 've been said we were fir'd.

As to the divifion of words in your staves, Like my countryman's horn-comb, into three halves,

I meddle not with't, but prefume 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 iu a concert (like actors in farce)
Pay two parts in one, when scrapers are scarce..
But be that as 'twill, you'll know more anon, Sir,
When Sheridan fends to Merry Dan anfwer.

SHERIDAN'S REPLY.

THREE merry lads you own we are; "Tis very true, and free from care; But envious we cannot bear,

For, were all forms of beauty thine, Were you like Nereus foft and fine, We should not in the least repine,

or grieve, Sir. Then know from us, most beauteous Dan, That roughness best becomes a man ; 'Tis women thould be pale and wan,

and taper.

and bold, Sir,

Forbear it.

ANOTHER REJOINDER,

BY THE DEAN, IN JACKSON'S NAME. THREE days for anfwer I have waited; I thought an ace you'd ne'er have bated; And art thou forc'd to yield, ill-fated

Henceforth acknowledge that a nose
Of thy dimenfion's fit for profe;
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,
I hear with fome concern you roar,
And flying think to quit the fcore
By clapping billets on your door

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

poetafter?

thy master.

proud boaster.

and pofts, Sir,

I maul'd you, when you look'd fo bluff, But now I'll fecret keep your stuff; For know, proftration is enough

and cry on.

For every ftroke goes to my heart, And at each lath 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&, Care, and Speed.

DEAR DAN.

SHERIDAN'S SUBMISSION.

BY THE DEAN.

"Cedo jam, miferæ cognofcens præmia rixæ,
"Si rifca eft, ubi tu pulfas 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 fuppliant fave
Moft humbly fues for pardon;
Who when I fought ftill 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 proftrate fapplicate 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 fpite I ne'er had any

'Twas the damn'd fquire with the hard name;
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 wife and flynefs,
They left me in the lurch:
Unhappy wretch! for now, I ween,
I've nothing left.to vent my spleen
But ferula and birch:

And they, alas! yield fmall relief,
Seem rather to renew my grief;
My wounds bleed all anew:

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 fkip: The fchool-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'il ftrut, and cry, Victoria!
At every stroke of mine he fell :
'Tis true he roar'd and cry'd;
But his impenetrable shell

Could feel no harm befide.
The tortoife thus, with motion flow,
Will clamber up a wall;

Yet, fenfelefs to the hardest blow,

Gets nothing but a fall.

Dear Dan, then, why should you or I,
Attack his pericrany?

And, fince it is in vain to try,
We'll fend him to Delany.