The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift/Volume 7/On Dan Jackson's Picture – 4


WHILST you three merry poets traffick
To give us a description graphick
Of Dan's large nose in modern sapphick;

I spend my time in making sermons,
Or writing libels on the Germans,
Or murmuring at whigs' preferments.

But when I would find rhyme for Rochfort,
And look in English, French, and Scotch for't,
At last I'm fairly forc'd to botch for't.

Bid lady Betty recollect her,
And tell, who was it could direct her
To draw the face of such a spectre?

I must confess, that as to me, sirs,
Though I ne'er saw her hold the scissars,
I now could safely swear it is hers.

'Tis true, no nose could come in better;
'Tis a vast subject stuff'd with matter,
Which all may handle, none can flatter.

Take courage, Dan; this plainly shows,
That not the wisest mortal knows
What fortune may befal his nose.

Show me the brightest Irish toast,
Who from her lover e'er could boast
Above a song or two at most;

For thee three poets now are drudging all,
To praise the cheeks, chin, nose, the bridge and all,
Both of the picture and original.

Thy nose's length and fame extend
So far, dear Dan, that every friend
Tries, who shall have it by the end.

And future poets, as they rise,
Shall read with envy and surprise
Thy nose outshining Cælia's eyes.