Mifs, not yet full fifteen, with fire uncommon, Yon broad, bold, angry spark, I fix my eye on, Strip but this vizor off, and fure I am [Mimicking. Perhaps, to vulgar eyes, beftrides the ftate; If with a bribe his candour you attack, He bows, turns round, and whip-the man is black? Yon critic, too-but whither do I run ? If I proceed, our bard will be undone ! Well then a truce, fince the requests it too : Do you spare her, and l'il for once spare you. THE HAUNCH OF VENISON, A POETIC EPISTLE то LORD CLARE. FIRST PRINTED IN MDCCLX V. THANKS, my lord, for your venison, for finer or fatter Never rang'd in a foreft, or fioak'd in a platter; To spoil fuch a delicate picture by eating; I had thoughts, in my chambers, to place it in view, As in fome Irish houses, where things are so so, 5 10 gammon of bacon hangs up for a show : But, for eating a rafher of what they take pride in, They'd as foon think of eating the pan it is try'd in. But hold let me pause-don't I hear you pronounce, This tale of the bacon's a damnable bounce; Well, fuppofe it a bounce-fure a poet may try, 15 By a bounce now and then, to get courage to fly. 20 But, my lord, 'tis no bounce: I proteft in my turn, It's a truth and your Lordship may afk Mr. Burn.* To go on with my tale-as I gaz'd on the haunch, I thought of a friend that was trufty and ftaunch ; 1; So I cut it, and fent it to Reynolds undreft, To paint it, or eat it, just as he lik'd best. Of the neck and the breaft I had next to difpofe; 'Twas a neck and a breaft that might rival Monroe's: But in parting with these I was puzzled again, 25 With the-how, and the who, and the where and the when. But hang it to poets who feldom can eat, It's like fending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt. 30 35 An acquaintance, a friend, as he call'd himself, enter'd; An under-bred, fine-fpoken fellow was he, And he fmil'd as he look'd at the venifon and me. What have we got here? why this is good eating Your own I fuppofe or is it in waiting? Why whofe fhould it be? cried I, with a flounce, I get these things often, but that was a bounce : Some lords, my acquaintance, that fettle the nation, Are pleas'd to be kind-but I hate oftentation. If that be the cafe then, cried he very gay, I'm glad I've taken this house in my way. Lord Clare's nephew. 40 45 To-morrow you take a poor dinner with me; No words-I infift on't-precifely at three: We'll have Johnson, and Burke, all the wits will be there, We wanted this venifon to make out the dinner. Left alone to reflect, having emptied my fhelf, When come to the place where we all were to dine, (A chair-lumber'd clofet juft twelve feet by nine :) My friend bade me welcome, but ftruck me quite dumb, With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come, For I knew it, he cried, both eternally fail, The one with his fpeeches, and 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. E 71 See the letters that paffed between his royal highness Henry duke of Cumberland, and lady Grofvenor-12mo. 1769. The one is a Scotchman, the other a Jew, 75 They both of them merry, and authors like you; was not. 85 Now, my lord, as for tripe it's my utter averfion, Pray a flice of your liver, though may I be curst, But 100 105 |