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Upon his incomparable VER SE Ss, &c.
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 Mufe,
Unable, in her utmost flight,

To reach thy huge Coloffian height.
T'attempt to write like thee were frantic,
Whofe lines are, like thyfelf, gigantic.

Yet let me blefs, in humbler strain,
Thy vaft, thy bold Cambyfian vein,
Pour'd out t' enrich thy native isle,
As Egypt wont to be with Nile.
Oh, how I joy to fee thee wander,
In many a winding loose mæander,
In circling mazes, smooth and supple,
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;

These were all written in circles.


Where every line, as huge as seven,

If stretch'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 ftill wilt have to fpare.
Thou haft alone the skill to feaft
With Roman elegance of taste,
Who haft of rhymes as vast resources
As Pompey's caterer of courses.

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 harmonious fett 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 fuch a flowing train :
Her train, of variegated die,
Shews like Thaumantia's in the fky;
Alike they glow, alike they please,
Alike impreft by Phoebus' rays.

Thy verfe

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To what, to what fhall I compare it?

'Tis like, what I have oft' heard spoke on,

The famous ftatue of Laocoon.

"Tis like,

yes, 'tis very like it,

The long, long ftring, 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 haft writ
Conclude like Rattab-whittab-whit ↑.

To Mr. THOMAS SHERIDAN, Upon his Verfes written in Circles. By Dr. SwiFr.


T never was known that circular letters,

By humble companions, were fent to their betters: And, as to the fubject, our judgement, meherc'le, Is this, that you argue like fools in a circle. But now for your verfes; we tell you, imprimis, The fegment fo large 'twixt your reafon 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 meafures of line by a quadrant. But we took our dividers, and found your d-n'd metre, In each fingle 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 coft, you are fairly trepann'd, For the chord of your circle is now in their hand.

*At Gaulftown, there is a remarkably famous echo. + An allufion to the found produced by the echo. Their figures were in the centre of the verfes.

The chord, or the radius, it matters not whether,
By which your jade Pegasus, fixt in a tether,

As her betters are us'd, fhall be lafh'd round the ring,
Three fellows with whips, and the Dean holds the ftring.
Will Hancock declares, you are out of your compafɛ,
To encroach on his art by writing of bombafs.;
And has taken just now a firm refolution
To answer your style without circumlocution.
Lady Betty* prefents you her fervice most humble,
And is not afraid your worship will grumble,

That the makes of your verses a hoop for Mifs Tam†,
Which is all at prefent; and fo I remain


WITH mufick and poetry equally bleft,

A bard thus Apollo most humbly addrest: "Great author of harmony, verfes, and light! "Affifted by thee, I both fiddle and write. "Yet unheeded I fcrape, or I fcribble all day,


My verfe is neglected, my tunes thrown away.. Thy substitute here, Vice-Apollo ‡, difdains "To vouch for my numbers, or lift to my strains;

*The lady of George Rochford, efq. Mifs Thomafon, lady Betty's daughter. See "Apollo to the Dean," p. 183.


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"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.



Though the Dean and Delany tranfcendently fhine,, "O brighten one folo or fonnet of mine.

"With them I'm content thou should make thy abode : "But vifit thy servant 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; 66 Thy works fhall continue and here's the receipt. "On rondeaus hereafter thy fiddle-ftrings fpend : "Write verfes in circles: they never fhall end."


O fair Lady Betty, Dan fat for his picture,


And defy'd her to draw him so oft' as he piqu'd her He knew the 'd no pencil or colouring by her, And therefore he thought he might fafely defy her. Come fit, fays my Lady; then whips up her fciffar,, And cuts out his coxcomb in filk in a trice, Sir.. Dan fat with attention, and faw with furprize. How the lengthen'd his chin, how the hollow'd his eyes 3 But flatter'd himself with a fecret conceit,

That his thin lantern jaws all her art would defeat.


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