RETALIATION.

A POEM.

The title and nature of this Poem shew that it owed its birth to some preceding circumstances of festive aneniment, which from the wit of the company, and the very ingenious author's peculiar ouditie, were probably cuivenci by some strokes of humour. This piece was only intended for the Doctor's private amusement, and that of the particular friends who were its subject; and he unfortunately did not live to revise, or even finish it, in the manner which lie intended. The public have, however, already shewn how much they were pleased with its appearance, even in its present state.

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 fla

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;

vour;

And Dick with his pepper shall heighten Then with chaos and blunders encircling my their savour;

head

Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain,

And Douglas ** is pudding substantial and plain;

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

Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead.

Author of the West Indian, Fashionable Lover, the Brothers, and other dramatic pieces.

** Dr. Douglas, Canon of Windsor, an ingenious Scotch gentleman, who has no less distinguished himself as a citizen of the world, than a sound critic, in detecting several literary|| Royal Academy. mistakes, or rather forgeries, of his country

longing to the Irish bar, the relish of whose Counsellor John Ridge, a gentleman beby all his acquaintance to be very properly agreeable and pointed conversation is admitted compared to the above sauce.

§§ Sir Joshua Reynolds, President of the

Au eminent attorney.

Who, born for the universe, narrow'd his mind, || And to party gave up what was meant for mankind;

Tho' fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat

The pupil of impulse, it fore'd 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.

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;

Tho' 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 disobe-
dient;

And too fond of the right to pursue the expe-
dient.

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 Say, was it that villainy directing his view To find out men's virtues, and finding them few,

was in't

Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf,
He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself?

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; t

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;

*Mr. T. Townshend, Member for Whitechurch.

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

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 di-
vine,

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 pleas'd with their

OWN.

Say, where has our poet this malady caught, Or wherefore his characters thus without. fault?

Here Douglas retires from his toils to relax, The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks;

Come, all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines,

Come and dance on the spot where your tyrant
reclines.

When Satire and Censure encircled bis throne,
I fear'd for your safety, I fear'd for my own;
But now he is gone, and we want a detector,
Our Dodds shall be pious, or Kenricks shall
lecture;
Macpherson write bombast, and call it a
style;

Our Townshend make speeches; and I shall
compile;

New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall
cross over,

No countryman living their tricks to discover:
Detection her taper shall quench to a spark,
And Scotchman meet Scotchman and cheat in
the dark.

Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can?

An abridgement of all that was pleasant in
man;

As an actor, confest without rival to shine,
As a wit, if not first, in the very first line;