Retaliation. a Poem by Oliver Goldsmith — Read

OF old, when Scarron his companions invited, / Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united; / If our landlord supplies us with beef, and with fish, / Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best dish: / Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains; / Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains; / Our Will shall be wild-fowl, of excellent flavour, / And Dick with his pepper shall heighten their savour: / Our Cumberland's sweet-bread its place shall obtain, / And Douglas is pudding, substantial and plain: / Our Garrick's a salad; for in him we see / Oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree: / To make out the dinner, full certain I am, / That Ridge is anchovy, and Reynolds is lamb; / That Hickey's a capon, and by the same rule, / Magnanimous Goldsmith a gooseberry fool. / At a dinner so various, at such a repast, / Who'd not be a glutton, and stick to the last? / Here, waiter! more wine, let me sit while I'm able, / Till all my companions sink under the table; / Then, with chaos and blunders encircling my head, / Let me ponder, and tell what I think of the dead.

Here lies the good Dean, re-united to earth, / Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth: / If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt, / At least, in six weeks, I could not find 'em out; / Yet some have declar'd, and it can't be denied 'em, / That sly-boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em.