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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 forc'd 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 ramines;
Thy fame, thy genius now declines,
proud boaster.
I hear with some concern you 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 griev'd to hear your banishment,
But pleas'd 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.
