Bring down Long Shanks Jim* too; but, now I 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 sly Nancy.

However, bring down yourself, and you bring down all; for, to say it we may venture,

In thee Delany's spleen, John's mirth, Helsham's jokes, and the soft soul of amorous Jemmy,

centre.

POSTSCRIPT.

I had forgot to desire you to bring down what I say you have, and you'll believe me as sure as a gun, and own it;

I mean, what no other mortal in the universe can boast of, your own spirit of pun, and own wit. And now I hope you'll excuse this rhyming, which I must say is (though written somewhat at large) trim and clean;

And so I conclude, with humble respects as usual, Your most dutiful and obedient

GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN.

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

†The seat of Hussay, esq. in the county of Kildare. F ‡ This Invitation seems to have been the joint composition of George Rochfort, John Rochfort (who was called Nim, or Nimrod, by Dr. Swift, because he was fond of hunting), Dan Jackson, and Dr. Swift, in a vein of whim and merriment; and, in all probability, was sent off directly by the post to Sheridan. The letter from Dr. Sheridan, July 15, 1721, addressed to George Nim-Dan-Dean, esq. seems to have suggested the hint. p. 257. N.

See

TO GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN, ESQ.

UPON HIS INCOMPARABLE VERSES, ETC.

BY DR. DEĻANY, 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 vastness deign t' excuse
The praises of a puny Muse,
Unable, in her utmost flight,

To reach thy huge colossian height.
T'attempt to write like thee were frantic,
Whose lines are, like thyself, gigantic.

Yet let me bless, in humbler strain,
Thy vast, thy bold Cambysian vein,
Pour'd out t' enrich thy native isle,
As Egypt wont to be with Nile.
O, how I joy to see thee wander,
In many a winding loose meander,
In circling mazes, smooth and supple,
And ending in a clink quadruple ;
Loud, yet agreeable withal,

Like rivers rattling in their fall !
Thine, sure, is poetry divine,

Where wit and majesty combine;

Where every line, as huge as seven,

If stretch'd in length, would reach to Heaven: Here all comparing would be slandering,

The least is more than Alexandrine.

* These were written all in circles. F.

Against

Against thy verse Time sees with pain,
He whets his envious sithe in vain;

For, though from thee he much may pare,
Yet much thou still wilt have to spare.
Thou hast alone the skill to feast
With Roman elegance of taste,
Who hast of rhymes as vast resources
As Pompey's caterer of courses.

O thou, of all the Nine inspir'd!
My languid soul, with teaching tir'd,
How is it raptur'd, when it thinks
On thy harmonious set of clinks;
Each answering each in various rhymes,
Like Echo to St. Patrick's chimes!
Thy Muse, majestic in her rage,
Moves like Statira on the stage;
And scarcely can one page sustain
The length of such a flowing train:
Her train, of variegated die,
Shows like Thaumantia's in the sky;
Alike they glow, alike they please,
Alike imprest by Phoebus' rays.

Thy verse-(Ye Gods! I cannot bear it)
To what, to what shall I compare it?
'Tis like, what I have oft heard spoke on,
The famous statue of Laocoon.

The long, long string, with which you fly kite.
Tis like what you, and one or two more,
Roar to your Echo* in good humour;
And every couplet thou hast writ
Concludes like Rattah-whittah-whit.†

* At Gaulstown, there is a remarkably famous echo. F.
† An allusion to the sound produced by the echo. F.

1

TO MR. THOMAS SHERIDAN,

UPON HIS VERSES WRITTEN IN CIRCLES.

BY DR. SWIFT.

IT never was known that circular letters,

By humble companions was sent to their betters;
And, as to the subject, our judgment, mehercle,
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

metre,

your d-n'd

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?*

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,

Three fellows with whips, and the dean holds the string.

Their figures were in the centre of the verses. F.

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.

*

Lady Betty presents you her service most humble,

And is not afraid your worship will grumble,
That she makes 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 ROCHFORT,

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
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.

The lady of George Rochfort, esq. F.
+ Miss Thomason, lady Betty's daughter. F.

See "Apollo to the Dean," p. 213. N.

Though