The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/Mr. Rochfort's Reply

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The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7
(1721)
by George Rochfort, edited by Thomas Sheridan, John Nichols, John Boyle, Patrick Delany, John Hawkesworth, Deane Swift, William Bowyer, John Birch, and George Faulkner

Mr. Rochfort's Reply

Dr. Delany's Reply

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This is the sixth of twelve poems on the same subject:
1. On Dan Jackson's Picture;
2. On the same;
3. On the same;
4. On the same;
5. Dan Jackson's Defence;
6. Mr. Rochfort's Reply;
7. Dr. Delany's Reply;
8. Sheridan's Reply;
9. A Rejoinder, by the Dean;
10. Another Rejoinder, by the Dean;
11. Sheridan's Submission, by the Dean; and
12. To the Rev. Daniel Jackson.

1560582The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7
— Mr. Rochfort's Reply1721George Rochfort

MR. ROCHFORT'S REPLY.

YOU say your face is better hung
Than ours — by what? by nose or tongue?
In not explaining, you are wrong
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠to us, sir.

Because we thus must state the case,
That you have got a hanging face,
Th' untimely end's a damn'd disgrace
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠of noose, sir.

But yet be not cast down: I see
A weaver will your hangman be;
You'll only hang in tapestry
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠with many:

And then the ladies, I suppose,
Will praise your longitude of nose,
For latent charms within your clothes,
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠dear Danny.

Thus will the fair of every age
From all parts make their pilgrimage,
Worship thy nose with pious rage
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠of love, sir:

All their religion will be spent
About thy woven monument,
And not one orison be sent
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠to Jove, sir.

You the fam'd idol will become,
As gardens grac'd in ancient Rome,
By matrons worship'd in the gloom
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠of night:

O happy Dan! thrice happy sure!
Thy fame for ever shall endure,
Who after death can love secure
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠at sight.

So far I thought it was my duty
To dwell upon thy boasted beauty;
Now I'll proceed a word or two t' ye
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠in answer

To that part where you carry on
This paradox, that rock and stone
In your opinion are all one:
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠How can, sir,

A man of reasoning so profound
So stupidly be run aground,
As things so different to confound
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠t' our senses?

Except you judg'd them by the knock
Of near an equal hardy block:
Such an experimental stroke
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠convinces.

Then might you be, by dint of reason,
A proper judge on this occasion;
'Gainst feeling there's no disputation,
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠is granted:

Therefore to thy superiour wit,
Who made the trial, we submit;
Thy head to prove the truth of it
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠we wanted.

In one assertion you're to blame,
Where Dan and Sherry's made the same,
Endeavouring to have your name
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠refin'd, sir:

You'll see most grossly you mistook,
If you consult your spelling-book,
(The better half you say you took)
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠you'll find, sir;

S, H, E, she — and R, I, ri,
Both put together make Sherry,
D, A, N, Dan — makes up the three
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠syllables;

Dan is but one, and Sherri two,
Then, sir, your choice will never do;
Therefore I've turn'd, my friend, on you
⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠the tables.