At the top a fried liver and bacon were seen,

At the bottom was tripe in a swingeing tureen ;

At the sides there was spinach and pudding made hot;
In the middle a place where the Pasty—was not.
Now, my Lord, as for tripe, it's my utter aversion,
And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian;
So there I sat stuck like a horse in a pound,
While the bacon and liver went merrily round:
But what vex'd me most was that d
-d Scottish rogue,
With his long-winded speeches, his smiles and his

brogue;

And, “Madam," quoth he, "may this bit be my poison, A prettier dinner I never set eyes on!

Pray, a slice of your liver, though, may I be curst, But I've eat of your tripe till I'm ready to burst." "The tripe!" quoth the Jew, with his chocolate cheek, "I could dine on this tripe seven days in a week; I like these here dinners, so pretty and small; But your friend there, the Doctor, eats nothing at all.” "O-ho!" quoth my friend, "he'll come on in a trice, He's keeping a corner for something that's nice; There's a Pasty"—"A Pasty !" repeated the Jew, "I don't care if I keep a corner for❜t too.”

"What the de'il, mon, a Pasty!" re-echoed the Scot, "Though splitting, I'll still keep a corner for that.” “We'll all keep a corner,” the lady cried out ; "We'll all keep a corner," was echoed about. While thus we resolved, and the Pasty delay'd, With looks that quite petrified enter'd the maid ; A visage so sad, and so pale with affright, Waked Priam in drawing his curtains by night.

But we quickly found out-for who could mistake her?

That she came with some terrible news from the baker:

And so it fell out; for that negligent sloven
Had shut out the Pasty on shutting his oven.
Sad Philomel thus- -but let similes drop-
And, now that I think on't, the story may stop.

To be plain, my good Lord, it's but labour misplaced, To send such good verses to one of your taste: You've got an odd something-a kind of discerningA relish a taste-sicken'd over by learning; At least, it's your temper, as very well known, That you think very slightly of all that's your own : So, perhaps, in your habits of thinking amiss,

You may make a mistake, and think slightly of this.

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 following poem.]

OF old, when Scarron his companions invited,
Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united;
If our landlord* supplies us with beef and witḥ fish,
Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best

dish:

Our Dean † shall be venison, just fresh from the plains;

*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.

Our Burke* shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains;
Ourt Will shall be wild-fowl of excellent flavour,
And Dick with his pepper shall heighten the savour;

*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.

Our Cumberland's* sweet-bread its place shall obtain,
And Douglast 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,
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;

* 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 ingenious Scotch gentleman, who has no less distinguished himself as citizen 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.