But we took our dividers, and found your d—­n’d metre,
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?[1]
’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, fix’d in a tether,
As his betters are used, shall be lash’d round the ring,
Three fellows with whips, and the Dean holds the string. 
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[2] presents you her service most humble,
And is not afraid your worship will grumble,
That she make of your verses a hoop for Miss Tam.[3]
Which is all at present; and so I remain—­

[Footnote 1:  There were four human figures in the centre of the circular verses.—­F.]

[Footnote 2:  Daughter of the Earl of Drogheda, and married to George Rochfort, Esq.—­F.]

[Footnote 3:  Miss Thomason, Lady Betty’s daughter, then, perhaps, about a year old; afterwards married to Gustavus Lambert, Esq., of Paynstown, in the county of Meath.—­Scott.]

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. 
Though the Dean and Delany transcendently shine,
O brighten one solo or sonnet 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 pleased; and, resolving to jest,
Replied, “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 fiddle-strings spend: 
Write verses in circles:  they never shall end.”

ON DAN JACKSON’S PICTURE, CUT IN SILK AND PAPER[1]