Our Dean' shall be venison, just fresh from | Then, with chaos and blunders encircling my the plains; head, Our Burke2 shall be tongue with the garnish Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the of brains; dead. Our Will shall be wild-fowl of excellent flavor, Here lies the good Dean," reunited to earth, And Dick with his pepper shall heighten the Who mixed reason with pleasure and wisdom with mirth : savor; Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place If he had any faults, he has left us in doubtshall obtain, At least, in six weeks I could not find 'em out ; And Douglas is pudding substantial and Yet some have declared-and it can't be de Here, waiter, more wine! Let me sit while To persuade Tommy Townshend13 to lend him I'm able, a vote; Till all my companions sink under the ta- Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on ble; Thomas Barnard, then (1774) dean of Derry, afterward (1780) bishop of Killaloe and (in 1794) bishop of Limerick. He died in 1806, in his eightieth year. 2 The Right Hon. Edmund Burke. 3 Mr. William Burke, a kinsman of Edmund Burke. Died 1798. refining, And thought of convincing while they thought of dining; Though equal to all things, for all things unfit; Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; Mr. Richard Burke, a barrister, and younger brother For a patriot too cool; for a drudge, disobe In short, 'twas his fate, unemployed or in | Here Cumberland lies, having acted his place, sir, To eat mutton cold and cut blocks with a The Terence of England, the mender of razor. parts hearts; A flattering painter, who made it his care they are. Here lies honest William,' whose heart was To draw men as they ought to be, not as a mint, While the owner ne'er knew half the good His gallants are all faultless, his women di Would you ask for his merits? ask for his merits? Alas! he Of virtues and feelings that Folly grows proud, had none: What was good was spontaneous; his faults And coxcombs, alike in their failings alone, were his own. Adopting his portraits, are pleased with their own. Here lies honest Richard, whose fate I must Say, where has our poet this malady caught, sigh at; Alas that such frolic should now be so quiet! Or wherefore his characters thus without fault? Say, was it that, vainly directing his view What spirits were his! what wit and what To find out men's virtues and finding them whim! few, Now breaking a jest and now breaking a Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf, limb,3 He grew lazy at last and drew from him Now teasing and vexing, yet laughing at all. Here Douglas retires from his toils to relax— In short, so provoking a devil was Dick Old Nick: But, missing his mirth and agreeable vein, 1 William Burke. See note 3, p. 22. 2 Mr. Richard Burke. See note 4, P. 22. Richard Burke was fond of a jest, and was unfortunate enough to fracture both an arm and a leg. The scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks. Come, all ye quack bards and ye quacking divines, Come and dance on the spot where your ty- When satire and censure encircled his throne, own; But, now he has gone and we want a detector, | On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting; Our Dodds1 shall be pious, our Kenricks' 'Twas only that when he was off he was act shall lecture; Macpherson3 write bombast and call it a style; Our Townshend make speeches, and I shall compile ; New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall cross over, No countryman living their tricks to discover; Detection her taper shall quench to a spark, And Scotchman meet Scotchman and cheat in the dark. ing. With no reason on earth to go out of his way, He turned and he varied full ten times a day; Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick If they were not his own by finessing and trick: He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back. Here lies David Garrick-describe me who Of praise a mere glutton, he swallowed what An abridgment of all that was pleasant in And the puff of a dunce, he mistook it for man; As an actor, confest without rival to shine; As a wit, if not first, in the very first line. Yet, with talents like these and an excellent heart, The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. Like an ill-judging beauty, his colors he spread, And beplastered with rouge his own natural red. fame ; Till, his relish grown callous almost to dis ease, Who peppered the highest was surest to please. But let us be candid and speak out our mind: If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys," and Woodfalls so grave, What a commerce was yours while you got and you gave! The Rev. Dr. William Dodd, afterward (1777) hanged How did Grub Street re-echo the shouts that for forgery. 2 William Kenrick, LL.D. (died 1779), lexicographer, reviewer, dramatist, and the bitter enemy of Goldsmith. He read lectures at the Devil Tavern under the title of "The School of Shakespeare." "I remember, one evening, when some of Kenrick's works were mentioned, Dr. Goldsmith said he had never heard of them; upon which Dr. Johnson observed, 'Sir, he is one of the many who have made themselves public without making themselves known.' "—" Boswell," by Croaker, p. 171. James Macpherson, Esq. Died 1796. Goldsmith alludes to his prose translation of Homer. William Lauder (died 1771) and Archibald Bower (died 1766) were two Scotch authors of very indifferent moral and literary reputations. you raised, While he was be-Roscius'd and you were be praised! But peace to his spirit wherever it flies, To act as an angel and mix with the skies. Those poets who owe their best fame to his skill Shall still be his flatterers, go where he will— 5 Hugh Kelly, author of False Delicacy, Word to the Wise, Clementina, School for Wives. Died 1777. • William Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle. Died 1803. ing, Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and | To coxcombs averse, yet, most civilly steerwith love, And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys When they judged without skill he was still above.1 Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt pleasant creature, And slander itself must allow him good nature; hard of hearing; When they talked of their Raphaels, Cor reggios and stuff, He shifted his trumpet and only took snuff.3 can, POSTSCRIPT. He cherished his friend, and he relished a Here Whitefoord reclines, and, deny it who bumper; Yet one fault he had, and that one was a Though he merrily lived, he is now a grave thumper. Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miser? I answer, No, no! for he always was wiser. He was--could he help it?-a special attorney. man; Rare compound of oddity, frolic and fun, Who relished a joke and rejoiced in a pun; Whose temper was generous, open, sincere; A stranger to flatt'ry, a stranger to fear; Who scattered around wit and humor at will; Whose daily bon mots half a column might fill; A Scotchman, from pride and from prejudice free; A scholar, yet surely no pedant was he. Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my What pity, alas! that so lib'ral a mind mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind; bland,2 Still born to improve us in every part— 1 "The sum of all that can be said for and against Garrick, some people think, may be found in these lines of Goldsmith."-Davies, "Life of Garrick," ii. 159; ed. 1780. 2 "To his gentle and happy composure of mind our common friend Goldsmith alludes when, in describing Sir Joshua Reynolds, he employed the epithet bland-a word eminently happy and characteristic of his easy and placid manner."- Malone, "Life of Sir Joshua Reynolds." |