Alas! Sir, I had no defign,
But was unwarily drawn in;

For fpite I ne'er had any;

'Twas the damn'd squire 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 wile and flynefs,
They left me in the lurch:

Unhappy wretch! for now, I ween,
I've nothing left to vent my fpleen
But ferula and birch :

And they, alas! yield small relief,
Seem rather to renew my grief,
My wounds bleed all anew :
For every stroke goes to my heart,

And at each lafh I feel the finart
Of lafh laid on by you.

To the Rev. DANIEL JACKSON; To be humbly prefented by Mr. SHERIDAN in Perfon, with Respect, Care, and Speed,

DEAR DAN,

HERE I return my trust, nor afk,

One penny for remittance;

If I have well perform'd my task,
Pray lend me an acquittance, -

Too long I bore this weighty pack,

As Hercules the sky;

Now take him you, Dan Atlas, back,

Let me be flander-by.

Not all the witty things you fpeak
In compafs of a day,

Not half the puns you make a week,
Should bribe his longer stay.

With me you left him out at nurse,
Yet are you not my debtor ;
For, as he hardly can be worse,
I ne'er could make him better.

He rhymes and puns, and puns and rhymes,
Just as he did before;

And, when he's lash'd a hundred times,
He rhymes and puns the more.

When rods are laid on school-boys bums,,
The more they frisk and skip:
The school-boy's top but louder hums,

The more they use the whip.

Thus, a lean beast beneath a load

(A beaft of Irish breed)

Will, in a tedious, dirty road,
Outgo the prancing fteed.

You knock him down and down in vain,

And lay him flat before ye,

For, foon as he gets up again,
He'll frut, and cry, Victoria!

A:

'Tis true he roar'd and cry'd ;

But his impenetrable fhell

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.

POST SCRIPT.

Lean Tom, when I faw him, laft week, on his horfe awry,

Threaten'd loudly to turn me to stone with his forcery. But, I think, little Dan, that, in fpight of what our foe fays,

He will find I read Ovid and his Metamorphofis.

For omitting the first (where I make a comparison,
With a fort of allufion to Putland or Harrison)
Yet, by my defcription, you'll find he in fhort is
A pack and a garran, a top and a tortoise.

So I hope from henceforward you ne'er will ask, can I maul
This teazing, conceited, rude, infolent animal?

And, if this rebuke might turn to his benefit,

(For I pity the man) I should be glad then of it.

Alluding to the Prologue, mentioned above, p. 227.

ΤΟ

TO DR.

SHERIDAN,

On his "ART OF PUNNING."

HAD I ten thousand mouths and tongues,

Had I ten thousand pair of lungs,

Ten thousand sculls with brains to think,
Ten thousand fandifbes of ink,

Ten thousand bands and pens to write
Thy praife I'd fudy day and night.

Oh may thy Work for ever live!
(Dear Tom, a friendly zeal forgive,)
May no vile mifcreant fawcy Cook
Prefume to tear thy learned Book,
To finge his Fowl for nicer guest,
Or pin it on the Turkey's breaft.
Keep it from pafty bak'd or flying,
From broiling fake, or fritters frying,
From lighting pipe, or making snuff,
Or cahing up a feather muff,

From all the feveral ways the Grocer
(Who to the learned world's a foe, Sir,)
Has found in twifling, folding, packing,
His brains and ours at once a racking.
it never curl the head,

And

may

Of either living block or dead!

Thus, when all dangers they have past,

Your leaves, like leaves of brass, fhall last.
No blaft fhall from a Critick's breath,
By vile infection, cause their death,
Till they in flames at laft expire,
And help to fit the world on fire.

5

STELLA

STELLA TO DR. SWIFT. On his Birth-day, Nov. 30, 1721.

T. Patrick's Dean, your country's pride,

ST

My early and my only guide,

Let me among the rest attend,

Your pupil and your humble friend,
To celebrate in female strains

The day that paid your mother's pains ;
Defcend to take that tribute.due

In gratitude alone to you.

When men began to call me fair,
You interpos'd your timely care;
You early taught me to defpife
The ogling of a coxcomb's eyes;

Shew'd where my judgement was mifplac'd;

Refin'd my fancy and my taste.

Behold that beauty just decay'd,
Invoking art to nature's aid :
Forfook by her admiring train,
She fpreads her tatter'd nets in vain;
Short was her part upon the ftage;
Went fmoothly on for half a page;
Her bloom was gone, fhe wanted art,
As the fcene chang'd, to change her part:
She, whom no lover could refift,
Before the fecond act was hifs'd.
Such is the fate of female race
With no endowments but a face;
Before the thirtieth year of life,
A maid forlorn, or hated wife.

Stella