To go on with my tale-as I gaz'd on the haunch, To paint it, or eat it, just as he lik'd best, Of the neck and a breast I had next to dispose; 'Twas a neck and a breast that might rival Monroe's: But in parting with these 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, An acquaintance, a friend as he call'd himself, enter'd; And he smil'd as he look'd at the venison and me. "What have we got here?-Why this is good eating! Your own I suppose—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 ostentation." "If that be the case 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 insist on't-precisely at three: We'll have Johnson, and Burke, all the wits will be there; My acquaintance is slight, or I'd ask my lord Clare. And, now that I think on't, as I am a sinner! We wanted this venison to make out a dinner. What say you-a pasty, it shall, and it must, Thus snatching his hat, he brush'd off like the wind, Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, And "nobody with me at sea but myself *;" Tho' I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty, Yet Johnson, and Burke, and a good venison pasty, Were things that I never dislik❜d in my life, Tho' clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife. So next day in due splendour to make my approach, I drove to his door in my own hackney-coach. When come to the place where we all were to dine, (A chair-lumber'd closet just twelve feet by nine :) My friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite dumb, With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come; * See the letters that passed between his Royal Highness Henry, Duke of Cumberland, and Lady Grosvenor-12mo. 1769. At the top a fried liver and bacon were seen, At the bottom was tripe, in a swinging tureen; At the sides there was spinnage and pudding made hot; In the middle a place where the pasty-was not. 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, tho' may I be curst, But I've eat of your tripe, 'till I'm ready to burst." But your friend there, the doctor, eats nothing at all." But we quickly found out, for who could mistake her? And so it fell out, for that negligent sloven, FROM THE ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY. SONG. THE wretch condemn'd with life to part, Still, still on hope relies; And ev'ry pang that rends the heart, Hope, like the glimmering taper's light, And still as darker grows the night, Emits a brighter ray. SONG. O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver, Still importunate and vain, To former joys recurring ever, And turning all the past to pain; Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing, In thee must ever find a foe. THE CLOWN's REPLY. JOHN TROTT was desir'd by two witty peers, To tell them the reason why asses had ears; "An't please you," quoth John, "I'm not given to "letters, "Nor dare I pretend to know more than my betters; "Howe'er from this time I shall ne'er see your graces, "As I hope to be sav'd! without thinking on asses.' Edinburgh, 1753. EPITAPH ON EDWARD PURDON*. HERE lies poor NED PURDON, from misery freed, Who long was a bookseller's hack: He led such a damnable life in this world, I don't think he'll wish to come back. *This gentleman was educated at Trinity College, Dub. lin; but having wasted his patrimony, he enlisted as a foot soldier. Growing tired of that employment, he obtained his discharge, and became a scribbler in the newspapers. He translated Voltaire's HENRIADE. |