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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

TO THE DEAN OF ST. PATRICK'S (1) by THOMAS SHERIDAN (1687-1738)

First Line: SIR, YOUR BILLINGSGATE MUSE METHINKS DOES BEGIN
Last Line: WHICH IS ALL AT PRESENT FROM YOURS,
Subject(s): SWIFT, JONATHAN (1667-1745);
SIR.
Your Billingsgate Muse methinks does begin
With much greater noise than a conjugal din.
A pox of her bawling, her @3tempora et mores!@1
What are times now to me? An't I one of the Tories?
You tell me my verses disturb you at prayers;
Oh, ho, Mr. Dean, are you there with your bears?
You pray, I suppose, like a heathen to Phoebus,
To give his assistance to make out my rebus,
Which I don't think so fair; leave it off for the future;
When the combat is equal, this god should be neuter.
I'm now at the tavern where I drink all I can;
To write with more spirit, I'll drink no more Helicon;
For Helicon is water, and water is weak;
'Tis wine on the gross lee that makes your Muse speak.
This I know by her spirit and life, but I think
She's much in the wrong to scold in her drink.
Her damned pointed tongue pierced almost to my heart:
Tell me of a cart -- tell me of a -------.
I'd have you to tell her on both sides her ears,
If she comes to my house that I'll kick her down stairs.
Then home she shall limping go, squalling out, "Oh, my knee!"
You shall soon have a crutch to buy for your Melpomene.
You may come as her bully, to bluster and swagger;
But my ink is my poison, my pen is my dagger.
Stand off, I desire, and mark what I say to you:
If you come I will make your Apollo shine through you.
Don't think, sir, I fear a Dean, as I would fear a dun;
Which is all at present from yours,



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