THANKS, my lord, for your venison, for finer or fatter 1 First published in 1776; but written, it is believed, in 1771. It is now printed from the second edition, also dated in 1776, which is 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 chambers to place it in view, To be shown to my friends as a piece of virtù; It has ten said to be taken from the last transcript of the author. additional lines, and numerous emendations.-Robert Nugent, of Carlanstown, Westmeath, was elected a member for St. Mawes in 1741; in 1766 was created Viscount Clare; and in 1776, earl Nugent. He was thrice married; and his surviving daughter became marchioness of Buckingham. His odes, epistles, epigrams, etc., are much above mediocrity. He died at Dublin, and was buried at Gosfield-hall in Essex, 1788.-Line 18. Mr. Byrne a son of George B. by Clare, sister of lord Clare. Line 24. Monroe = Dorothy Monroe, whose various charms are celebrated in verse by lord Townshend. Line 27. Howard H. Howard? author of The choice spirits museum, 1765; Coley = Colman, says Horace Walpole; H―rth = Hogarth? a surgeon, of Golden-square; Hiff = Paul Hiffernan, M.D., author of Dramatic genius, etc. Line 29. Higgins =captain Higgins? He made a blunder by drawing our poet into a foolish affray. Line 6o. And "nobody" etc. is from one of the letters of the duke of Cumberland, 1769. Line 77. Snarler etc.-the assumed names of newspaper scribblers. ΤΟ Well, suppose it a bounce-sure a poet may try But, my lord, it's no bounce: I protest in my turn, To paint it, or eat it, just as he lik'd 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: I think they love venison-I know they love beef; For making a blunder, or picking a bone. But hang it-to 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. An acquaintance, a friend as he call'd himself, enter'd; An under-bred, fine-spoken fellow was he, And he smil'd as he look'd at the venison and me. 20 30 "What have we got here?-why, this is good eating! "If that be the case then," cried he, very gay, 40 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 the dinner. Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, 50 60 Were things that I never dislik'd in my life- When come to the place where we all were to dine- 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 swinging tureen; At the sides there was spinach and pudding made hot; In the middle a place where the pasty—was not. 70 80 |