THE HAUNCH OF VENISON.*

A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD CLARE.

THANKS, my lord, for your venison, for finer or fatter
Ne'er ranged in a forest, or smoked in a platter.
The haunch was a picture for painters to study,
The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy;
Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help
regretting

To spoil such a delicate picture by eating:

I had thoughts, in my chamber to place it in view,
To be shewn to my friends as a piece of virtu;
As in some Irish houses, where things are so so,
One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show;
But for eating a rasher of what they take pride in,
They'd as soon think of eating the pan it is fried in.
But hold let me pause--don't I hear you pronounce,
This tale of the bacon's a damnable bounce?
Well, suppose it a bounce-sure a poet may try,
By a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly.

But, my lord, it's no bounce: I protest, in my turn,
It's a truth, and your lordship may ask Mr. Burn.t
To go on with my tale: as I gazed on the haunch,
I thought of a friend that was trusty and stanch,
So I cut it, and sent it to Reynolds undrest,
To paint it, or eat it, just as he liked best.

Of the neck and the breast I had next to dispose'Twas a neck and a breast that might rival Monroe's: But in parting with these I was puzzled again,

With the how, and the who, and the where, and the

when.

There's H-d, and C-y, and H-rth, and H—ff, I think they love venison-I know they love beef;

The description of the dinner party in this poem is imitated from Boileau's fourth Safire. Boileau himself took the hint from Horace, Lib. ii. Sat. 8. which has also been imitated by Regnier, Sat. 10. + Lord Clare's nephew.

There's my countryman, Higgins-oh, let him alone
For making a blunder, or picking a bone :
But, hang it! tc poets who seldom can eat
Your very good mutton's a very good treat;
Such dainties to them their health it might hurt,
It's like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.
While thus I debated, in reverie centred,

An acquaintance-a friend, as he call'd himself— enter'd;

An under-bred, fine-spoken fellow was he,

And he smiled as he look'd at the venison and me,'What have we got here ?-Why, this is good eating! Your own, suppose or is it in waiting?"

Why, whose should it be?' cried I, with a flounce, 'I get these things often'-but that was a bounce: Some lords, my acquaintance, that settle the nation, Are pleased to be kind-but I hate ostentation.'

If that be the case, then,' cried he, very gay, 'I'm glad I have taken this house in my way: To-morrow you take a poor dinner with me; No words-1 insist on't--precisely at three; We'll have Johnson, and Burke, all the wits will be there :

My acquaintance is slight, or I'd ask my lord Clare.
And, now that I think on't, as I am a sinner,
We wanted this venison to make out a dinner.

What say you-a pasty? it shall, and it must,
And my wife, little Kitty, is famous for crust.
Here, porter-this venison with me to Mile-end :
No stirring, I beg-my dear friend-my dear friend!'
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;'*
Though I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty,
Yet Johnson, and Burke, and a good venison pasty,
Were things that I never disliked in my life,
Though clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife.

See the letters that passed between his Royal Highness Henry Duke of Cumberland, and Lady Grosvenor. 12mo. 1769.

So next day, in due splendour 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), 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 thinks he writes Cinna-he owns to Panurge.' While thus he described them, by trade and by name, They enter'd, and dinner was served as they came.

At the top, a fried liver and bacon were seen; At the bottom, was tripe in a swinging tureen; At the sides, there was spinage, 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: 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 hit 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:

An eminent London brewer, M.P. for the borough of Southwark, at whose table Dr. Johnson was a frequent guest.

There's a pasty. A pasty!' repeated the Jew, 'I don't care if I keep a corner for't too.'

'What the deil mon, a pasty !' re-echo'd 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 echo'd about.
While thus we resolved, and the pasty delay'd,
With looks that quite petrified, enter'd the maid:
A visage so sad, and so pale with affright,
Waked Priam, in 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 misplaced,
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.

Dr. Goldsmith and some of his friends occasionally dined at the St James's Coffeehouse. 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.

Or old, 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 Wills shall be wild-fowl, of excellent flavour,
And Dick with his pepper shall heighten the savour;
Our Cumberland's sweetbread its place shall obtain,
And Douglas** is pudding, substantial and plain;
Our Garrick'stt a salad, for in him we see
Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree:
To make out the dinner, full certain I am,
That Ridge is anchovy, and Reynolds§§ is lamb;
That Hickey's a capon, and, by the same rule,
Magnanimous Goldsmith a gooseberry fool.

The master of the St. James's Coffeehouse, where the Doctor, and the friends he has characterized in this poem, occasionally dined. + Doctor Barnard, Dean of Derry, in Ireland, afterwards Bishop of Killaloe.

The Right Hon. Edmund Burke.

Mr. William Burke, formerly secretary to General Conway, and member for Bedwin.

Mr. Richard Burke, collector of Granada.,

Mr. Richard Cumberland, author of The West Indian, The Jew, and other dramatic works.

* Dr. Douglas, Canon of Windsor, and afterwards Bishop of Salisbury, was himself a native of Scotland, and obtained considerable reputation by his detection of the forgeries of his countrymen, Lauder and Bower.

tt David Garrick, Esq.

Counsellor John Ridge, a gentleman belonging to the Irish bar.
Sir Joshua Reynolds.

a. An eminent attorney.