Retaliation: A Poem
1 Of old, when Scarron his companions invited,
2 Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united;
3 If our landlord supplies us with beef, and with fish,
4 Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best dish:
5 Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains;
6 Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains;
7 Our Will shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour,
8 Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain,
9 And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain:
10 Our Garrick's a salad, for in him we see
11 Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree:
12 To make out the dinner, full certain I am,
13 That Ridge is an anchovy, and Reynolds is lamb;
14 That Hickey's a capon, and by the same rule,
15 Magnanimous Goldsmith, a gooseberry fool:
16 At a dinner so various, at such a repast,
17 Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last:
18 Here, waiter, more wine, let me sit while I'm able,
19 'Till all my companions sink under the table;
20 Then with chaos and blunders encircling my head,
21 Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead.
22 Here lies the good Dean, re-united with earth,
23 Who mixt reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth:
24 If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt,
25 At least, in six weeks, I could not find 'em out;
26 Yet some have declar'd, and it can't be denied 'em,
27 That sly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em.
28 Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such,
29 We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much;
30 Who, born for the Universe, narrow'd his mind,
31 And to party gave up, what was meant for mankind.
32 Tho' fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat,
33 To persuade Tommy Townsend to lend him a vote;
34 Who, too deep for his hearers, still went on refining,
35 And thought of convincing, while they thought of dining;
36 Tho' equal to all things, for all things unfit,
37 Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit:
38 For a patriot too cool; for a drudge, disobedient,
39 And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient.
40 In short, 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, sir,
41 To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.
42 Here lies honest William, whose heart was a mint,
43 While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in't;
44 The pupil of impulse, it forc'd him along,
45 His conduct still right, with his argument wrong;
46 Still aiming at honour, yet fearing to roam,
47 The coachman was tipsy, the chariot drove home;
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poem by Oliver Goldsmith
Added by Poetry Lover
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