THA

HANKS, my lord, for your venison, for finer or

fatter Never rang'd in a forest, or smoak’d in a platter ; The haunch was: a picture for painter's to stndy, The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy, Tho' my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help rem

gretting, To spoil such a delicate picture by eating;

a I had thoughts in my chamber to set it in view, To be shewn to my friends as a piece of virtu ;

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 fry'd in.
But hold let me pausemadon't I hear you pronounce,
This tale of the bacon's a damnable bounce ;
Well, suppose it a bounce-fure a poet may try,
By a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly.

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go on with

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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. Burn. *

a To

my tale--as I gaz'd on the haunch; I thought of a friend that was trusty and staunch, So I cut it, and sent it to Reynold's undrest, 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 Monro'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 Higgins-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, wanting a shirt. While thus I debated in reverie center'd, An acquaintance, a friend as he call'd himself, enter'd ; An underbred, 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?

* Lord Clare's Nephew,

Why whose should it be? cried I, with a founce,
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 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 infist on't- precisely at three : We'll have Johnson, and Burke, all the wits will be there, My acquaintance is light, or I'd ask my lord Clare. And, now that I think on't, as I am a finner ! We wanted this venifun to make out the dinner. What say you--a pafty, it hall, and it mult, And my wife, little Kitty, is famous for crust. Here, porter—this venison with me to Mile-end ; No stirring-I beg-my dear friend-my dear friend! Thus snatching his hat, he bush'd off like the wind, And the porter and eatables follow'd behind.

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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 Johofon, and Burke, and a good venison pasty, Were things that I never diliked in my life, Tho'clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife. So next day in due splendor to make my approach, I drove to his dvor 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 ftruck me quite

dumb, With tidings that Johnson, and Burke would not comie,

* See the letters that paffed between his royal hig!:ness Henry duke of Cumberland, and lady Grosvenor1769.

S

for I knew it, he cried, both eternally fail,
The one with his speeches, and t'other with Thrale ;
But no matter I'll warrant we'll make

up
the

party,
With two full as clever, and ten times as hearty.
The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew,
They both of them merry and authors like you ;
The one writes the Snarler, the other the Scourge ;
Some thinks he writes Cinna-he owns to Panurge.
While thus he describ'd them by trade and by name,
They enter'd and dinner was serv'd as they came.

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. Now my lord, is for tripe it's my utter aversion, And your bacon I hate like a Türk or a Persian ; So there I fat ttuck, like a horse in a pound, While the bacon and liver went merrily round: But what vex'd me moit, was that I'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 nice of your liver, tho' may I be curst, But I've eat at 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 the week : I like these here dinners so pretty and small; But your friend there the doctor, eats nothing at all. O-uh! quoth my friend he'll coine on in a trice, He's keeping a corner for fomething that's nice : There's a paity!-a pasty' repeated the jew : I dou't care if I keep a corner for t tao. What the deil mon, a pasty ! re-echo'd the Scut; Though splitting I'll fill keep a corner for that. We'll all keep a corner, the lady cried out. We': all keep a corner, was echo'd about.

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While thus we resolv’d, and the pasty delay'd,
With looks that quite petrified, enter'd the maid ;
A visage so fad, and fo pale with affright,
Wak di Priam in drawing his curtain 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 cut, for that negligent soven,
Had shut out the pasty in shutting the oven.
Sad Philomel thus--but let fimilies drop-
And now that I think on't, the fiory may stor.
To be plain, my good lord, it's but labour misplac'd,
To send such good verses to one of your

tafte ;
You've got an odd somethingma kind of discerning
A relisha tafte ficken'd over by learning ;
At least, its 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 miftake, and think Dightly of this,

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