My rhymes are gone to all but one,
Which is, our trees are felling;
As proper quite as those you write,
To force in Ballyspellin.
[Footnote 1: This answer, which seems to have been made while Swift was
on a visit at Sir Arthur Acheson's, "in a mere jest and innocent
merriment," was resented by Sheridan as an affront on the lady and
himself, "against all the rules of reason, taste, good nature, judgment,
gratitude, or common manners." See "The History of the Second Solomon,"
"Prose Works," xi, 157. The mutual irritation soon passed, and the Dean
and Sheridan resumed their intimate friendship.--_W. E. B._]
[Footnote 2: A food much used in Scotland, the north of Ireland, and
other parts. It is made of oatmeal, and sometimes of the shellings of
oats; and known by the names of sowins or flummery.--_F._]
AN EPISTLE TO TWO FRIENDS[1]
TO DR. HELSHAM [2]
Nov. 23, at night, 1731.
SIR,
When I left you, I found myself of the grape's juice sick;
I'm so full of pity I never abuse sick;
And the patientest patient ever you knew sick;
Both when I am purge-sick, and when I am spew-sick.
I pitied my cat, whom I knew by her mew sick:
She mended at first, but now she's anew sick.
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