Still born to improve us in every part,

His pencil our faces, his manners our heart:
To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering,
When they judg'd without skill he was still hard of

hearing:

When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff,

He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff.

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POSTSCRIPT

After the Fourth Edition of this Poem was printed, the Publisher received an Epitaph on Mr. Whitefoord, from a friend of the late Doctor Goldsmith, inclosed in a letter, of which the following is an abstract :

'I have in my possession a sheet of paper, containing near forty lines in the Doctor's own hand-writing: there are many scattered, broken verses, on Sir Jos. Reynolds, Counsellor Ridge, Mr. Beauclerk, and Mr. Whitefoord. The Epitaph on the last-mentioned gentleman is the only one that is finished, and therefore I have copied it, that you may add it to the next edition. It is a striking proof of Doctor Goldsmith's good-nature. I saw this sheet of paper in the Doctor's room, five or six days before he died; and, as I had got all the other Epitaphs, I asked him if I might take it. "In truth you may, my Boy," (replied he,)" for it will be of no use to me where I am going."

HERE Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can,
Though he merrily liv'd, he is now a grave man ;
Rare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun!
Who relish'd a joke, and rejoic'd in a pun;

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Whose temper was generous, open, sincere ;
A stranger to flatt'ry, a stranger to fear;
Who scatter'd around wit and humour at will;
Whose daily bons mots half a column might fill;
A Scotchman, from pride and from prejudice free; 155
A scholar, yet surely no pedant was he.

What pity, alas! that so lib'ral a mind
Should so long be to news-paper essays confin'd;
Who perhaps to the summit of science could soar,
Yet content if the table he set on a roar';
Whose talents to fill any station were fit,
Yet happy if Woodfall confess'd him a wit.

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Ye news-paper witlings! ye pert scribbling folks Who copied his squibs, and re-echoed his jokes ; Ye tame imitators, ye servile herd, come, Still follow your master, and visit his tomb : To deck it, bring with you festoons of the vine, And copious libations bestow on his shrine : Then strew all around it (you can do no less) Cross-readings, Ship-news, and Mistakes of the Press. Merry Whitefoord, farewell! for thy sake I admit 171 That a Scot may have humour, I had almost said wit: This debt to thy mem'ry I cannot refuse,

Thou best humour'd man with the worst humour'd muse.'

SONG

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN 'SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER'

Ан, me! when shall I marry me?

Lovers are plenty; but fail to relieve me : He, fond youth, that could carry me,

Offers to love, but means to deceive me.

But I will rally, and combat the ruiner:

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Not a look, not a smile shall my passion discover: She that gives all to the false one pursuing her, Makes but a penitent, loses a lover.

TRANSLATION

CHASTE are their instincts, faithful is their fire,

No foreign beauty tempts to false desire ;
The snow-white vesture, and the glittering crown,
The simple plumage, or the glossy down.
Prompt not their loves :-the patriot bird pursues 5
His well acquainted tints, and kindred hues.
Hence through their tribes no mix'd polluted flame,
No monster-breed to mark the groves with shame;
But the chaste blackbird, to its partner true,
Thinks black alone is beauty's favourite hue.
The nightingale, with mutual passion blest,
Sings to its mate, and nightly charms the nest;
While the dark owl to court its partner flies,
And owns its offspring in their yellow eyes.

ΙΟ

THE HAUNCH OF VENISON

A POETICAL EPISTLE TO LORD CLARE

THANKS, my Lord, for your venison, for finer or fatter Never rang'd in a forest, or smok'd in a platter; The haunch was a picture for painters to study, The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy. Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help regretting

To spoil such a delicate picture by eating;

I had thoughts, in my chambers, to place it in view,
To be shown to my friends as a piece of virtù;
As in some Irish houses, where things are so so,
One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show:
But for eating a rasher of what they take pride in,
They'd as soon think of eating the pan it is fried in.
But hold-let me pause-Don't I hear you pronounce
This tale of the bacon a damnable bounce?
Well, suppose it a bounce-sure a poet may try,
By a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly.

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But, my Lord, it's no bounce: I protest in my turn, It's a truth—and your Lordship may ask Mr. Byrne. To go on with my tale-as I gaz'd on the haunch, I thought of a friend that was trusty and staunch; 20 So I cut it, and sent it to Reynolds undress'd,

To paint it, or eat it, just as he lik'd best.

Of the neck and the breast I had next to dispose; 'Twas a neck and a breast-that might rival M—r—'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,

I think they love venison-I know they love beef; There's my countryman H-gg-ns-Oh! let him

alone,

For making a blunder, or picking a bone.

But hang it to poets who seldom can eat,
Your very good mutton's a very good treat;
Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt,
It's like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.
While thus I debated, in reverie centred,

An acquaintance, a friend as he call'd himself, enter'd ;
An under-bred, fine-spoken fellow was he,
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;

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My acquaintance is slight, or I'd ask my Lord Clare. 50 And now that I think on't, as I am a sinner!

We wanted this venison to make out the dinner.