And tell how little weight he sets
On all whig papers and gazettes;
But for the politics of Pue,
Thinks every syllable is true.

And since he owns the king of Sweden
Is dead at last, without evading,
Now all his hopes are in the czar :

Why, Muscovy is not so far:

Down the Black Sea, and up the Straits,
And in a month he's at your gates;
Perhaps from what the packet brings,
By Christmas we shall see strange things.".
Why should I tell of ponds and drains,
What carps we met with for our pains;
Of sparrows tam'd, and nuts innumerable
To choke the girls, and to consume a rabble?
But you, who are a scholar, know

How transient all things are below,
How prone to change is human life!
Last night arriv'd Clem* and his wife-
This grand event has broke our measures:
Their reign began with cruel seizures:
The Dean must with his quilt supply
The bed in which those tyrants lie:
Nim lost his wig block, Dan his jordan,
(My lady says, she can't afford one)
George is half scar'd out of his wits,
For Clem gets all the dainty bits.
Henceforth expect a different survey,
This house will soon turn topsyturvy:
They talk of further alterations,
Which causes many speculations.

* Mr. Clement Barry. F.

THOMAS

THOMAS SHERIDAN, CLERK,

TO GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN, ESQ.

July 15, 1721, at night.

I'D have you t' know, George,* Dan,† Dean;‡ and Nim, §

That I've learned how verse t' compose trim,
Much better b'half th'n you, n'r you, n'r him,
And that I'd rid'cule their 'nd your flam-flim,
Ay b't then, p'rhaps, says you, t's a merry whim
With 'bundance of mark'd notes i' th' rim,
Soth't I ought n't for t' be morose 'nd t' look grim,
Think n't your 'p'stle put m' in a megrim;
Though 'n rep't't'on day, I 'ppear ver' slim,
Th' last bowl 't Helsham's did m'head t' swim,
So th't I h'd man' aches 'n 'v'ry scrubb'd limb,
Cause th' top of th' bowl Ih'd oft us'd t' skim;
And b'sides D'lan' swears th't Ih'd swall'w'd s'v'r'l
brimmers, 'nd that my vis'ge's cov'r'd o'er with r'd
pimples m'r'o'er though m' scull were ('s 'tis n't)
's strong's tim-

ber, 't must have ak'd. Th' clans of th' c'llege Sanh'drim,

Pres'nt the'r humbl' and 'fect'nate respects; that 'st' say, D'ln', 'chlin, P. Ludl', Dic' St'wart, H'lsham capt'n P'rr' Walmsl', 'nd Longshi'nks Timm.

* George Rochfort. F

Dr. Swift. F

† Mr. Jackson. F. § Mr John Rochfort. F.

Dr. James Stopford, afterward bishop of Cloyne. F.

VOL. XVI.

GEORGE

GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN'S ANSWER.

DEAR Sheridan! a gentle pair

Of a Gaulstown lads (for such they are)
Besides a brace of grave divines,
Adore the smoothness of thy lines:
Smooth as our basin's silver flood,
Ere George had robb'd it of its mud;
Smoother than Pegasus' old shoe,
Ere Vulcan comes to make him new.
The board on which we set our a-s
Is not so smooth as are thy verses;
Compar'd with which (and that,s enough)
A smoothing iron itself is rough.
Nor praise I less that circumcision,
By modern poets call'd elision,

With which, in proper station plac'd,
Thy polish'd lines are firmly brac'd.
Thus a wise tailor is not pinching,
But turns at every seam an inch in;
Or else, be sure, your broad-cloth breeches
Will ne'er be smooth, nor hold their stitches.
Thy verse, like bricks, defy the weather,
When smooth'd by rubbing them together;
Thy words so closely wedg'd and short are,
Like walls, more lasting without mortar;
By leaving out the needless vowels,
You save the charge of lime and trowels.
One letter still another locks,
Each groov'd and dovetail'd like a box;
Thy muse is tuckt up and succinct;
In chains thy syllables are linkt;

Thy

Thy words together ty'd in small hanks,
Close as the Macedonian phalanx;

Or like the umbo of the Romans,

Which fiercest foes could break by no means.
The critic to his grief will find,

How firmly these indentures bind.
So, in the kindred painter's art,
The shortening is the nicest 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 else, to show their learned labour, you.
May backward be perus'd like Hebrew,
In which 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 must grant your lines are weighty,
Where thirty weigh as much as eighty;
All must allow your numbers more,
Where twenty lines exceed fourscore;
Norcan we think your measure short,
Where less than forty fill a quart,
With Alexandrian in the close,

Long, long, long, long, like Dan's long nose.

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

Gaulstown, Aug. 2, 1721.

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

For why should you stay in the filthy hole, I mean the city so smoky,

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

For as for honest John, though I'm not sure on't, yet I'll be hang'd, lest he

Be gone down to the county of Wexford with that great peer the lord Anglesey.

O! but I forgot; perhaps, by this time, you may have one come to town, but I don't know wether 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.

O! I forgot too; I believe there may be one more, I mean that great fat joker, friend Helsham, he That wrote the prologue, † and if you stay with him, depend on't, in the end, he'll sham ye.

Supposed to mean Dr. Walmsley. F.

† One spoken by young Putland, in 1720, before Hippolytus; in which Dr. Sheridan (who had written a prologue for the occafion) was most unexpectedly and egregiously laughted at. F.