THE HAUNCH OF VENISON, Α POETICAL EPISTLE, T LORD CLARE. THANKS, HANKS, my lord, for your venifon, for finer or fatter Never rang'd in a foreft, or fimoak'd in a platter; The haunch was a picture for painters to study, The fat was fo white, and the lean was fo ruddy; Though my ftomach was sharp, I could fcarce help regretting, To fpoil fuch a delicate picture by eating; I had thoughts, in my chambers, to place it in view, 84 THE HAUNCH But, for eating a rafher of what they take pride in, But, my lord, it's no bounce: I protest in my turn, It's a truth-and your lordship may ask Mr. Burn. * To go on with my tale-as I gaz'd on the haunch; I thought of a friend that was trusty and staunch, So I cut it, and fent it to Reynolds undrest, To paint it, or eat it, just as he lik'd beft, 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 thefe I was puzzled again, With the how, and the who, and the where, and the when. There's H-d, and C―y, and H-rth, and H—ff, Lord Clare's nephew. While OF VENISON. While thus I debated, in reverie center'd, An acquaintance, a friend as he call'd himself, en ter'd; An under-bred, fine-spoken fellow was he, And he fmil'd as he look'd at the venison and me. "What have we got here ?-Why this is good eating! Your own I fuppofe-or is it in waiting?" Why whose should it be?" cried I with a flounce: I get these things often-but that was a bounce: Some lords, my acquaintance, that settle the nation, Are pleas'd to be kind-but I hate oftentation." "If that be the cafe then, cried he, very gay, I'm glad I have taken this house in my way. To-morrow you take a poor dinner with me; No words-I infift on't-precisely at three: We'll have Johnson, and Burke, all the wits will be there; My acquaintance is flight, or I'd afk my lord Clare. And nobody with me at fea but myself;" When come to the place where we all were to dine, (A chair-lumber'd clofet juft twelve feet by nine:) My friend bade me welcome, but ftruck me quite dumb, With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come; "For I knew it," he cried, "both eternally fail, At the top a fried liver, and bacon were seen, See the letters that paffed between his royal highness Henry duke of Cumberland, and lady Grosvenor12° 1769. At |