appetite should prompt him. Sheridan was therefore certainly within
his reach; and the only time he was permitted to go beyond the limits
of his chain, was to take possession of a living in the county of
Corke, which had been bestowed upon him, by the then lord lieutenant
of Ireland, the present earl of Granville. Sheridan, in one fatal
moment, or by one fatal text, effected his own ruin. You will find the
story told by Swift himself, in the fourth volume of his works [page
289. in a pamphlet intitled a Vindication of his Excellency John Lord
Carteret, from the charge of favouring none but Tories,
High-Churchmen, and Jacobites.] So that here I need only tell you,
that this ill-starred, good-natur'd, improvident man returned to
Dublin, unhinged from all favour at court, and even banished from the
Castle: But still he remained a punster, a quibbler, a fiddler, and a
wit. Not a day passed without a rebus, an anagram, or a madrigal. His
pen and his fiddle-stick were in continual motion; and yet to little
or no purpose, if we may give credit to the following verses, which
shall serve as the conclusion of his poetical character.'

With music and poetry equally bless'd[1],
A bard thus Apollo most humbly address'd,
Great author of poetry, music, and light,
Instructed by thee, I both fiddle and write:

Yet unheeded I scrape, or I scribble all day,
My tunes are neglected, my verse flung away.
Thy substantive here, Vice Apollo [2] disdains,
To vouch for my numbers, or list to my strains.
Thy manual sign he refuses to put
To the airs I produce from the pen, or the gut:
Be thou then propitious, great Phoebus, and grant
Belief, or reward to my merit, or want,
Tho' the Dean and Delany [3] transcendently shine,
O! brighten one solo, or sonnet of mine,
Make one work immortal, 'tis all I request;
Apollo look'd pleas'd, and resolving to jest,
Replied--Honest friend, I've consider'd your case.
Nor dislike your unmeaning and innocent face.
Your petition I grant, the boon is not great,
Your works shall continue, and here's the receipt;
On Roundo's[4] hereafter, your fiddle-strings spend.
Write verses in circles, they never shall end.

Dr. Sheridan gained some reputation by his Prose-translation of Persius;
to which he added a Collection of the best Notes of the Editors of this
intricate Satyrist, who are in the best esteem; together with many
judicious Not