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Though the Dean and Delany transcendently

shine,

O brighten one solo or sounet 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 pleas'd; and, resolving to jest, Reply'd, "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 fiddlestrings spend: Write verses in circles; they never shall end."

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ON DAN JACKSON'S PICTURE,

CUT IN SILK AND PAPER.

To fair lady Betty* Dan sat for his picture, And defy'd her to draw him so oft as he piqu'd 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 lengtben'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 observ'd it, then pulls out a pin,
And varies the grain of the stuff to his grin;

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And, to make roasted silk to resemble his raw bone, She rais'd 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 whig 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 lin'd it with paper. PATR. DELANY sculp.

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 produc'd 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'unravel'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 wonderous 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!"
Indeed it is-behold the paper skull.

THO. SHERIDAN sculp.

ON

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.

ON THE SAME PICTURE.

WHILST

you three merry poets traffic
To give us a description 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 fort,
At last 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 confess, that as to me, sirs,
Though I ne'er saw her hold the scissars,
I now could safely swear it is hers.

'Tis true, no nose could come in better;
'Tis a vast subject stuff'd with matter,
Which all may handle, none can flatter.

Take courage, Dan; this plainly shows,
That not the wisest mortal knows
What fortune may befal his nose.

Show me the brightest Irish toast,
Who from her lover e'er could boast
Above a song or two at most:

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

Thy nose's length and fame extend
So far, dear Dan, that every friend
Tries, who shall have it by the end.

And future poets, as they rise,
Shall read with envy and surprise
Thy nose outshining Cælia's eyes.

JON. SWIFT.

DAN JACKSON'S DEFENCE.

My verse little better you'll find than my face is,
A word to the wise-ut pictura poësis."

THREE
merry lads, with envy stung,
Because Dan's face is better hung,
Combin'd in verse to rhyme it down,
And in its place set up their own;

As

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 most true,
They were inspir'd by what they drew.
Let then such critics know, my face
Gives them their comeliness and grace:
While every line of face does bring
A line of grace to what they sing.
But yet, methinks, though with disgrace
Both to the picture and the face,
I should' name them who do rehearse
The story of the picture farce;
The squire, in French as hard as stone,
Or strong as rock, that's all as one,
On face on cards is very brisk, 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, that half-namesake
Should join a party in the freak,

For sure I am it was not safe
Thus to abuse his better half,
As I shall prove you, Dan, to be,
Divisim and conjunctively.
For if Dan love not Sherry, can
Sherry be any thing to Dan?
This is the case whene'er you see
Dan makes nothing of Sherry;
Or should Dan be by Sherry o'erta'en,
Then Dan would be poor Sherridane;
'Tis hard then he should be decry'd
By Dan with Sherry by his side.

But,

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