Detection her taper fhall quench to a spark,

And Scotchman meet Scotchman and cheat in the dark.

Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can, An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man; As an actor, confeft without rival to shine; As a wit, if not first, in the very first line : Yet, with talents like thefe, and an excellent heart, The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. Like an an ill-judging beauty, his colours he spread, And beplafter'd, with rouge, his own natural red. On the itage he was natural, fimple, affecting; 'Twas only that, when he was off, he was acting. With no reason on earth to go out of his way, He turn'd and he vary'd full ten times a-day: Tho' fecure of our hearts, yet confoundedly fick, If they were not his own by fineffing and trick: He cait off his friends, as a huntsman his pack, For he new when he pleas'd he could whiftle them

back.

Of praise a mere glutton, he fwallow'd what came,
And the puff of a dunce, he mistook it for fame;
'Till his relish grown callous, almoft to disease,
Who pepper'd the highest was furelt to please.
But let us be candid, and fpeak out our mind,
If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind.
Yet Kenricks, ye‡ Kellys, and | Woodfalls fo grave,
What a commerce was yours, while you got what you
gave?

*Vide page 200.

+ Vide page 203. Mr. Hugh Kelly, author of Falfe Delicacy, Word to the wife, Clementina, School for wires, &c. Mr. William Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle,

How did Grub-ftreet re-echo the fhouts that
you rais'd,
While he was berofcius'd, and you were beprais'd?
But peace to his fpirit, wherever it flies,

To act as an angel, and mix with the skies :
Thofe poets, who owe their beft fame to his fkill,
Shall fill be his flatterers, go where he will,

Old Shakespeare, receive him, with praife and with love,

*

And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above.

Here Hickey reclines, a moft blunt pleafant crea

ture,

And flander itself muft allow him good nature:
He cherish'd his friend and he relih'd a bumper ;
Yet one fault he had and that one was a thumper.
Perhaps you may ask if the man was a mifer;
I answer, no, no, for he always was wifer.
Too courteous perhaps, or obligingly flat?
.His very worft foe can't accufe him of that:
Perhaps he confided in men as they go,
And fo was too foolishly honeft? ah no!

Then what was his failing? come tell it, and burn ye,
He was, could he help it? a fpecial attorney.

Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wifer, or better behind; His pencil was ftriking, refiftlefs and grand; His manners were gentle, complying and bland; Still born to improve us in every part,

His pencil our faces, his manners our heart :

* Vide page 204.

+ Vide page 200.
Ibid.

To coxcombs averfe, yet moft civilly steering,

When they judg'd without fkill he was ftill hard of hearing:

When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Corregios and ftuff,

He shifted his trumpet, and only took Inuff.

* Sir Joshua Reynolds is fo remarkably deaf as to be under the neceffity of ufing an ear trumpet in com

pany.

A

POETICAL

EPI S T L E,

From MR. CUMBERLAND

Το DR. GOLD SMITH,

Or, SUPPLEMENT to his

RETALIATION.

DOCTOR! according to your wishes,

Youv'e character'd us all in dishes,

Serv'd up a fentimental treat

Of various emblamatic meat :

And now it's time, I trust, you think,
Your company should have fome drink ;
Elfe, take my word for it, at least,
Your Irish friends wont like your feast,
Ring then, and fee that there is plac'd
To cach according to his tafte.

To Douglas, fraught with learn'd ftock Of critic Lore, give ancient Hock;

T

Let it be genuine, bright and fine,
Pure unadulterated wine;

For if there's fault in tafte, or odour,
He'll fearch it as he fearch'd out Lauder

To Johnfon, philofophic fage,
The moral Mentor of the age,
Religion's friend, with foul fincere,
With melting heart, but look auftere,
Give liquor of an honest sort,

And crown his cup with priestly Port!

Now fill the glafs with gay Champagne, And frisk it in a livelier ftrain:

Quick! Quick! the sparkling nectar quaff, Drink it, dear Garrick!-drink and laugh!

Pour forth to Reynolds, without ftint,
Rich Burgundy, of ruby sint:
If e'er his colours chance to fade,
This brilliant hue fhall come in aid,
With ruddy lights refresh the faces,
And warm the bofoms of the Graces.

To Burke a pure libation bring,
Fresh drawn from clear Caftalian spring
With civic oak the goblet bind,
Fit emblem of his patriot mind;

Let Clio as his tafter fip,

And Hermes hand it to his lip.

Fill up my friend, the Dean of Derry,

A bumper of conventual Sherry.