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RETALIATION.

A POEM

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

[Dr Goldsmith and some of his friends occasionally 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 follow-
ing 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 Dean + shall be venison, just fresh from the plains;
Our Burke 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 T sweetbread its place shall obtain,
And Douglas ** is pudding, substantial and plain ;

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

† Dr Barnard, Dean of Derry in Ireland.

The Right Hon. Edmund Burke.

§ Mr William Burke, late secretary to General Conway, member for Bedwin, and afterwards holding office in India.

Mr Richard Burke, Collector of Granada: afterwards Recorder of Bristol. Richard Cumberland, Esq., author of the "West Indian," "Fashionable Lover," "The Brothers," "Calvary," &c., &c.

** Dr Douglas, canon of Windsor, (afterwards Bishop of Salisbury,) an inge. nious Scotch gentleman, who has no less distinguished himself as a citizen

Our Garrick's* 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.
At a dinner so various-at such a repast,
Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last?
Here, waiter, more wine! let me sit while I'm able,
Till all my companions sink 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, reunited to earth,
Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth:
If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt,
At least, in six weeks, I could not find 'em out;
Yet some have declared, and it can't be denied 'em,
That Sly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em.
Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such,
We scarcely 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.
Though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat,
To persuade Tommy Townshend || to lend him a vote;
Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,
And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining:
Though equal to all things, for all things unfit,
Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit;

For a patriot, too cool; for a drudge, disobedient,
And too fond of the right, to pursue the expedient.

of the world, than a sound critic, in detecting several literary mistakes (or rather forgeries) of his countrymen; particularly Lauder on Milton, and Bower's History of the Popes.

* David Garrick, Esq.

+ Counsellor John Ridge, a gentleman belonging to the Irish bar.

Sir Joshua Reynolds.

§ An eminent attorney.

|| Mr Thomas Townshend, member for Whitchurch.

In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, sir,
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.

Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint, While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in 't; The pupil of impulse, it forced him along,

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

The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home :
Would you ask for his merits? alas! he had none :
What was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own.
Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must sigh at ;
Alas, that such frolic should now be so quiet!
What spirits were his! what wit and what whim!
Now breaking a jest, and now breaking a limb!*
Now wrangling and grumbling, to keep up the ball !
Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all!
In short, so provoking a devil was Dick,

That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old Nick;
But missing his mirth and agreeable vein,
As often we wish'd 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 faultless, his women divine,
And Comedy wonders at being so fine;
Like a tragedy queen he has dizen'd her out,
Or rather like Tragedy giving a rout.

His fools have their follies so lost in a crowd

Of virtues and feelings, that Folly grows proud;
And coxcombs, alike in their failings alone,
Adopting his portraits, are pleased with their own.

* Mr Richard Burke. This gentleman having slightly fractured one of his arms and legs at different times, the Doctor has rallied him on these accidents, as a kind of retributive justice for breaking his jests upon other people.

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