Ad Te, Doctissime Delany

[Delany, most learned of men,
Repulsed from the doors of the Dean,
I flee now to you and complain —
A pauper who sought but in vain.

[I sought as my solace Dean Swift
Who offered no food nor no gift,
Who proffered no shirt nor no shift.
Wouldst hear how my stomach's bereft?

[It barks oh so fierce, oh so fierce;
It's almost depleted my purse;
If only you would ease this curse,
Give drink or give food, but a mors-
el. 'Neath your beneficent gaze
I'll sleep after drinking your praise.]
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Author of original: 
Thomas Sheridan
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