Another Rejoinder By The Dean, In Jackson'S Name

Three days for answer I have waited, I thought an ace you'd ne'er have bated And art thou forced to yield, ill-fated poetaster?

Henceforth acknowledge, that a nose Of thy dimension's fit for prose; But every one that knows Dan, knows thy master.

Blush for ill spelling, for ill lines, And fly with hurry to Rathmines; Thy fame, thy genius, now declines, proud boaster.

I hear with some concern your roar And flying think to quit the score, By clapping billets on your door and posts, sir.

Thy ruin, Tom, I never meant, I'm grieved to hear your banishment, But pleased to find you do relent and cry on.

I maul'd you, when you look'd so bluff, But now I'll secret keep your stuff; For know, prostration is enough to th' lion.

SHERIDAN'S SUBMISSION BY THE DEAN

Miserae cognosce prooemia rixae, Si rixa est ubi tu pulsas, ego vapulo tantum.

Poor Sherry, inglorious, To Dan the victorious, Presents, as 'tis fitting, Petition and greeting.

To you, victorious and brave, Your now subdued and suppliant slave Most humbly sues for pardon; Who when I fought still cut me down, And when I vanquish'd, fled the town Pursued and laid me hard on.

Now lowly crouch'd, I cry peccavi, And prostrate, supplicate pour ma vie; Your mercy I rely on; For you my conqueror and my king, In pardoning, as in punishing, Will show yourself a lion.

Alas! sir, I had no design, But was unwarily drawn in; For spite I ne'er had any; 'Twas the damn'd squire with the hard name; The de'il too that owed me a shame, The devil and Delany;

They tempted me t' attack your highness, And then, with wonted wile and slyness, They left me in the lurch: Unhappy wretch! for now, I ween, I've nothing left to vent my spleen 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 lash I feel the smart Of lash laid on by you.