Thus snatching his hat, he brush'd off like the wind, And the porter and eatables follow'd behind.

Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, And nobody with me at sea but myself*;' Tho' I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty, Yet Johnson, and Burke, and a good venison pasty, Were things that I never dislik'd in my life, Though clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife. So next day, in due splendor to make my approach, I drove to his door in my own hackney-coach.

When come to the place where we all were to dine (A chair-lumber'd closet just twelve feet by nine), i My friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite dumb,

With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not

come;

For I knew it,' he cried, both eternally fail,

The one with his speeches, and t'other with Thrale;
But no matter, I'll warrant we'll make up the party,
With two full as clever, and ten times as hearty.
The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew,
They're both of them merry, and authors like you;
The one writes the Snarler, the other the Scourge ;
Some think he writes Cinna-he owns to Panurge.
While thus he describ'd them by trade and by name,
They enter'd, and dinner was serv'd as they came.

At the top a fried liver and bacon were seen;
At the bottom was tripe, in a swingeing tureen;
At the sides there was spinnage and pudding made
hot;

In the middle a place where the pasty-was not.
Now, my lord, as for tripe it's my utter aversion,
And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian,
So there I sat stuck, like a horse in a pound,
While the bacon and liver went merrily round:

* See the letters that passed between his royal highness Henry duke of Cumberland, and lady Grosvenor: 12mo, 1769.

But what vex'd me most, was that d'd Scottish

rogue,

With his long-winded speeches, his smiles and his brogue:

And, Madam,' quoth he, may this bit be my poison, A prettier dinner I never set eyes on;

Pray a slice of your liver, though may I be curst
But I've eat of your tripe till I'm ready to burst.'
The tripe,' quoth the Jew, with his chocolate cheek,
'I could dine on this tripe seven days in a week:
I like these here dinners so pretty and small;
But your friend there, the doctor, eats nothing at all.'
"O ho!' quoth my friend, he'll come on in a trice,
He's keeping a corner for something that's nice:
There's pasty.'-
.'' A pasty!' repeated the Jew:
'I don't care if I keep a corner for't too.'

• What the de'il, mon, a pasty? 're-echoed the Scot;
Though splitting, I'll still keep a corner for that.'
"We'll all keep a corner,' the lady cried out;
"We'll all keep a corner,' was echoed about.
While thus we resolv'd, and the pasty delay'd,
With looks that quite petrified, enter'd the maid;
A visage so sad, and so pale with affright,
Wak'd Priam iu drawing his curtains by night.
But we quickly found out (for who could mistake her?)
That she came with some terrible news from the baker:
And so it fell out, for that negligent sloven
Had shut out the pasty on shutting his oven.
Sad Philomel thus-but let similes drop-
And now that I think on't, the story may stop.
To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour misplac'd,
To send such good verses to one of your taste;
You've got an odd something-a kind of discerning-
A relish a taste-sicken'd over by learning;
At least, it's your temper, as very well known,
That you think very slightly of all that's your own:
So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amiss,
You may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.

RETALIATION:

А РОЕМ,

FIRST FRINTED IN MDCCLXXIV., AFTER THE AUTHOR'S DEATH.

Dr. Goldsmith and some of his friends occasion. ally dined at the St. James's coffee-house. One day it was proposed to write epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and person, furnished subjects of witticism. He was called on for retaliation, and at their next meeting produced the following poem.

RETALIATION.

Fold, when Scarron his companions invited,
Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was

united:

If our landlord supplies us with beef and with fish, Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best dish.

Our deant shall be venison, just fresh from the plains, Our Burket shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains, Our Will § shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour, And Dick with his pepper shall heighten the savour: Our Cumberland's ¶ sweet-bread its place shall obtain,

And Douglas** is pudding, substantial and plain:

*The master of St. James's coffee-house, where the doctor, and his friends he has characterised in this poem, occasionally dined.

+ Doctor Bernard, dean of Derry in Ireland.
Mr. Edmund Burke.

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

Mr. Richard Burke, collector of Granada.

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

** Doctor Douglas, canon of Windsor, an ingenious Scotch gentleman, who has no less distinguished