The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/On Dan Jackson's Picture – 1


TO fair lady Betty[1] Dan sat for his picture,
And defy'd her to draw him so oft as he piqu'd her.
He knew she'd no pencil or colouring by her,
And therefore he thought he might safely defy her.
Come sit, says my lady; then whips up her scissar,
And cuts out his coxcomb in silk in a trice, sir.
Dan sat with attention, and saw with surprise
How she lengthen'd his chin, how she hollow'd his eyes;
But flatter'd himself with a secret conceit,
That his thin lantern jaws all her art would defeat.
Lady Betty observ'd it, then pulls out a pin,
And varies the grain of the stuff to his grin:
And, to make roasted silk to resemble his raw bone,
She rais'd up a thread to the jet of his jaw bone;
Till at length in exactest proportion he rose,
From the crown of his head to the arch of his nose;
And if lady Betty had drawn him with wig and all,
'Tis certain the copy had outdone the original.
Well, that's but my outside, says Dan with a vapour,
Say you so, says my lady; I've lin'd it with paper.

Patr. Delany, sculp.