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Dr. Goldsmith and fome of his friends occafionally dine! at the St. James's coffee-houfe.-One day it was propofed to write epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and perfon, furnished fubjects of witticism. He was called on for RETALIATION, and at their next meeting, produced the following poem.

If

Fold, when Scarron his companions invited,

our*

united;

was

landlord fupplies us with beef and with fifh, Let each gueft bring himself, and he brings the best dish: Our dean fhall be venifon, juft fresh from the plains; Our Burke fhall be tongue, with a garnish of brains

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*The master of the St. James's coffee-houfe where the doctor, and the friends he has characterized in this poem, occafionally dined.

† Doctor Barnard, dean of Derry in Ireland.

Mr Edmund Burke, member for Wendover, and one of the greateft orators in this Kingdom.

Will fhall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour,
and Dick with his pepper fhall heighten their favour:
Our Cumberland's fweet-bread its place fhall obtain,
And Douglas is pudding, fubftantial and plain :
Our Garrick's a fallad, for in him we fee
Oil, vinegar, fugar, and faltnefs agree:
To make out the dinner full certain I am,
That Ridge is anchovy, and ** Reynolds is lamb;
That tt Hickey's a capon, and by the fame rule,
Magnanimous Goldsmith a goofberry fool.

At a dinner fo various, at fuch a repaft,
Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last?

* Mr William Burke, late fecretary to general Conway, and member for Bedwin.

Mr Richard Burke, Collector of Granada.

Mr Richard Cumberland, author of the Weft Indian, Fashionable Lover, the Brothers, and other dramatic pieces.

Doctor Douglas, cannon of Windfor, an ingenious Scotch gentleman, who has no lefs distinguifhed himfelf as a citizen of the world, than a found critic, in detecting feveral literary mistakes (or rather forgeries) of his countrymen; particularly Lauder on Milton, and Bower's Hiftory of the Popes,

David Garrick, Efq; joint patentee, and acting manager of the Theatre-royal, Drury-lane.

Counsellor John Ridge, a gentleman belonging to the Irish bar; the relish of whofe converfation was juflly compared to an anchovy.

** Sir Joshua Reynolds, prefident of the Royal Academy.

++ An eminent attorney.

Here, waiter, more wine, let me fit while I'm able,
'Till all my companions fink under the table;
Then with chaos and blunders encircling my head,
Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead.

Here lies the good dean, re-united to earth, Who mixt reafon with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth: If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt, At least in fix weeks, I could not find 'em out; Yet fome have declar'd, and it can't be deny'd 'em, That fly-boots was curfedly cunning to hide 'em.

Here lies our good † Edmund, whofe genius was

;

fuch, We fcarcely can praise it, or blame it too much Who, born for the universe narrow'd his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind. Tho' fraught with all learning, yet ftraining his throat, To perfuadet Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote; Who, too deep for his hearers, ftill went on refining, And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining;

Tho' equal to all things, for all things unfit,

Too nice for a ftatefman, too proud for a wit :
For a patriot too cool; for a drudge difobedient;
And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.
In fhort, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, fir,
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.

* Vide

page 199.

+ Vide page 199.

Mr T. Townshend, member for Whitechurch.

Here lies honeft* William, whofe heart was a mint, While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't; The pupil of impulfe, it forc'd him along,

His conduct ftill right, with his argument wrong;
Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam,

The coachman was tipfy, the chariot drove home;
Would afk for his merits? alas! he had none;

you

What was good was fpontaneous, his faults were his

own.

Here lies honel Richard whofe fate I must figh at ;
Alas that fuch frolic fhould now be fo quiet!
What fpirits were his! what wit and what whim;
Now breaking a jeft, and now breaking a limb?
Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ball!
Now teazing and vexing, yet laughing at all!
In fhort fo provoking a devil was Dick,

That we wifi.'d him full ten times a day at old nick
But, miffing his mirth and agreeable vein,
As often we wished to have Dick back again.

Here Cumberland lies, having acted his parts,
The Terence of England, the mender of hearts;
A flattering painter, who made it his care
To draw men as they ought to be, not as they are.
His gallants are all faultlefs his women divine,
And comedy wonders at being fo fine;

;

* Vide page 200.

This gen

+ Mr Richard Burke; vide page 200. tleman having flightly fractured one of his arms and legs, at different times, the doctor has rallied him on thofe accidents, as a kind of retributive justice for breaking his jets on other people.

Vide page 200.

Like a tragedy queen he has dizen'd them out,
Or rather like tragedy giving a rout.

His fools have their follies fo loft in a crowd
Of virtues and feelings, that folly grows proud,
And coxcombs alike in their failings alone,
Adopting his portraits are pleas'd with their own.
Say, where has our poet this malady caught;
Or, wherefore his characters thus without fault?
Say, was it that vainly directing his view
To find out men's virtues, and finding them few,
Quite fick of purfuing each troulefome elf,
He grew lazy at laft, and drew for himself?

*

Here Douglas retires from his toils to relax, The fcourge of impoftors, the terror of quacks: Come all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines, Come, and dance on the fpot where your tyrant reclines,

When fatire and cenfure encircled his throne,

I fear'd for your safety, I fear'd for my own;
But now he is gone, and we want a detector,

Our † Dodds fhall be pious, our ‡ Kenricks fhall lecture;

Macpherson write bombaft, and call it a ftyle,

Our Townshend make fpeeches, and I fhall compile ;. New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed fhall cross over, No countryman living their tricks to discover;

* Vide page 200.

The Rev. Dr. Dodd.

Mr. Kenrick lately read lectures at the Devil tavern, under the title of The School of Shakespeare' James Macpherson, Efq; who lately, from the mere force of his ftyle, wrote down the firft poet of all antiquity.

§ Vide page 200.

¶ Vide

page 200.

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