Now all his hopes are in the Czar:
“Why, Muscovy is not so far :
"Down the Black Sea, and up
"And in a month he's at your gates;
"Perhaps, from what the packet brings,
By Christmas we fhall fee ftrange things."
Why fhould I tell of ponds and drains,
What carps we met with for our pains;
Of fparrows tam'd, and nuts innumerable
To choak the girls, and to confume a rabble?
But you, who are a fcholar, know
How tranfient all things are below,
How prone to change is human life!
Laft night arriv'd Clem and his wife
This grand event hath broke our measures;
Their reign began with cruel feizures:
The Dean muft with his quilt fupply
The bed in which thofe tyrants lie:
Nim loft his wig-block, Dan his jordan
(My lady fays, fhe can't afford one);
George is half-fcar'd out of his wits,
For Clem gets all the dainty bits.
Henceforth expect a different furvey,
This houfe will foon turn topfy-turvey:
They talk of further alterations,
Which caufes many fpeculations.
TO GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN, ESQ.
July 15, 1721, at night.
'D have you t' know, George*, Dan†, Dean†, and Nim §,
That I've learned how verfe t' compose trim.
Much better b' half th'n you, n'r you, n'r him,
And th❜t I'd rid'cule their 'nd your flam-flim,
Ay' b't then, p'rhaps, fays you, t's a m'rry whim
With 'bundance of mark'd notes i' th' rim,
So th't I ought n't for t' be morofe 'nd t' look grim,
Think n't your 'p'ftle put m' in a meagrim ;
Though 'n rep't't'on day, I 'ppear ver' flim,
Th' laft bowl 't Hellham's did m' head t' fwim,
So th❜t I h'd man' aches n' 'v'ry fcrubb'd limb,
Caufe th' top of th' bowl I'h'd oft us'd t' skim ;
And b'fides D'lan' fwears th't I'h'd fwall'w'd f'v'r'l brim-
mers, 'nd that my vis'ge's cov'r'd o'er with r'd pim-
ples m'r'o'er though m' fcull were (s' tis n't) 's
ftrong's tim-
ber, 't must have ak'd. Th' clans of th' c'lledge Sanh'drim,
Pres'nt the'r humbl' and 'fect'nate refpects; that's t' say, D'lan', 'chlin, P. Ludl', Dic' St'wart, H'ltham, capt'n P'rr' Walmfl', 'nd Longh'nks Timm .
† J. Rochfort. § Dr. Swift.
Dr. James Stopford, afterwards bishop of Cloyne.
GEORGE-NIM-DAN-DEAN'S ANSWER.
EAR Sheridan! a gentle pair
Of Gaulftown lads (for fuch they are),
Besides a brace of grave divines,
Adore the smoothnefs of thy lines;
Smooth as our bafon's filver flood,
Ere George had robb'd it of its mud;
Smoother than Pegasus' old fhoe,
Ere Vulcan comes to make him new.
The board on which we fet our a-s
Is not fo fmooth as are thy verses,
Compar'd with which (and that's enough)
A fmoothing-iron itself is rough.
Nor praife I lefs that circumcifion,
By modern poets call'd`elifion,
With which, in proper ftation plac'd,
Thy polish'd lines are firmly brac'd.
Thus a wife taylor is not pinching,
But turns at every feam an inch in;
Or elfe, be fure, your broad-cloth breeches
Will ne'er be fmooth, nor hold their ftitches.
Thy verfe, like bricks, defy the weather,
When smooth'd by rubbing them together;
Thy words fo clofely wedg'd and short are
Like walls, more lafting without mortar;
By leaving out the needlefs vowels,
You fave the charge of lime and trowels.
One letter ftill another locks,
Each groov'd and dove-tail'd like a box;
Thy Mufe is tuckt-up and succin&t;
In chains thy fyllables are linkt;
Thy words together ty'd in small hanks,
Close as the Macedonian phalanx;
Or like the umbo of the Romans,
Which fierceft foes could break by no means.
The critick to his grief will find,
How firmly these indentures bind.
So, in the kindred painter's art,
The shortening is the niceft 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 elfe, to fhew their learned labour, you
May backward be perus'd like Hebrew,
Where they need not lofe a bit
Or of thy harmony or wit.
To make a work compleatly 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 fourfcore;
Nor can we think your measure short,
Where lefs 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.
Gaulftown, Aug. 2d, 1721.
DEAR Tom, this verse, which however the beginning may appear, yet in the end's good metre, Is fent to defire that, when your August vacation comes, your friends you'd meet here.
For why should you stay in that filthy hole, I mean the city fo fmoaky,
When you have not one friend left in town, or at leaft not one that 's witty, to joke wye?
For, as for honest John *, though I am not fure on 't, yet I'll be hang'd, left be
of Wexford with that great
Oh! but I forgot; perhaps, by this time, you may have one come to town, but I don't know whether he be friend or foe, Delany:
But, however, if he be come, bring him down, and you fhall go back in a fortnight, for I know there's no delaying ye.
Oh! I forgot too; I believe there may be one more, I
mean that great fat joker, friend Helsham, be That wrote the prologue †, and if you stay with him, depend on 't, in the end, he'll fham ye.
* Supposed to mean Dr. Walmfley.
+ One spoken by young Putland, in 1720, before Hippolytus; in which Dr. Sheridan (who had written
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