THE HAUNCH OF VENISON.* A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD CLARE. THANKS, my lord, for your venison, for finer or fatter To spoil such a delicate picture by eating: I had thoughts, in my chamber to place it in view, But, my lord, it's no bounce: I protest, in my turn, 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 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. What say you-a pasty? it shall, and it must, Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, 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, Pray, a slice of your liver, though, may I be curst, 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, That she came with some terrible news from the baker: To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour misplaced, 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; Our Deant shall be venison, just fresh from the plains; 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. a. An eminent attorney. |