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Dr. Goldsmith and fome of his friends occafionally dined at the St. James's coffee-house. - One day it was proposed to write epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and perfon, furnished fubjects of witticism. He was called on for RETALIATION, and at their next meeting, produced the following poem.

Fold, 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;

* The master of the St. James's coffee-house where the doctor, and the friends he has characterized in this poem, occafionally dined.

+ Doctor Barnard, dean of Derry in Ireland.

† Mr. Edmund Burke, member for Wendover, and one of the greatest orators in this Kingdom.

Our * Will shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour,
And † Dick with his pepper shall heighten their favour:
Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain,
And || Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain :
Our f Garrick's a sallad, for in him we fee
Oil, vinegar, fugar, 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 goofberry fool.
At a dinner so various, at such a repast,
Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last?

* Mr William Burke, late secretary to general Conway, and member for Bedwin.

+ Mr Richard Burke, Collector of Granada.

† Mr Richard Cumberland, author of the West Indian, Fashionable Lover, the Brothers, and other dramatic pieces.

|| Doctor Douglas, cannon of Windfor, an ingenious Scotch gentleman, who has no less diftinguished himfelf as a citizen of the world, than a found 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; joint patentee, and acting manager of the Theatre-royal, Drury-lane. Counsellor John Ridge, a gentleman belonging to the Irish bar; the relish of whose conversation was justly compared to an anchovy.

** Sir Joshua Reynolds, president of the Royal Academy.

†† An eminent attorney.

Here, waiter, more wine, let me fit while I'm able,
'Till all my companions fink 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, re-united to earth, Who mixt reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth: If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt, At least in fix weeks, I could not find 'em out; Yet some have declar'd, and it can't be deny'd 'em, That fly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em.

Here lies our good † Edmund, whose genius was fuch,

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.
Tho' fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat,
To perfuade + Tommy Townshend to lend him a vote;
Who, too deep for his hearers, ftill 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 disobedient;
And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.
In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, fir,
To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.

* Vide page 199.

+ Vide page 199.

MrT. Townshend, member for Whitechurch.

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 forc'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.

Here lies honest Richard whose fate I must sigh at ; Alas that fuch 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 teazing and vexing, yet laughing at all! In short fo provoking a devil was Dick, That we wifi'd him full ten times a day at old nick; But, milling 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 fo fine;

* Vide page 200.

+ Mr Richard Burke; vide page 200. This gentleman having flightly fractured one of his arms and legs, at different times, the doctor has rallied him on those accidents, as a kind of retributive justice for breaking his jests on other people.

‡ Vide page 200.

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