THE HAUNCH OF VENISON

THANKS, my lord, for your venison, for finer or fatter

Never rang'd in a forest, or smok'd in a platter; The haunch was a picture for painters to study, "The fat was so white, and the lean was so ruddy; Though my stomach was sharp, I could scarce help regretting

To spoil such a delicate picture by eating;

I had thoughts, in my chambers to place it in view,
To be shown to my friends as a piece of virtù ;
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 fried in.
But hold,-let me pause,—don't I hear you pro-

nounce,

This tale of the bacon a damnable bounce?

Well, suppose it a bounce-sure a poet may try, By a bounce, now and then, to get courage to fly. But, my lord, it's no bounce: I protest in my turn It's a truth, and your lordship may ask Mr. Byrne.1

1 Lord Clare's nephew.

VARIATIONS (First Edition.)

The white was so white, and the red was so ruddy!

To go on with 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 Reynolds 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 Monroe's: But in parting with these I was puzzled again, With the how, and the who, and the where, and the when.

b

There's Howard, and Coley, and H-rth, and Hiff, 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, when wanting a shirt.

While thus I debated, in reverie center'd An acquaintance, a friend as he call'd himself, enter'd;

An under-bred, fine spoken fellow was he, And he smil'd as he look'd at the venison and me.

VARIATIONS.

b There's Coley, and Williams, and Howard, and Hiff—,

c that

d

It would look like a flirt,

Like sending 'em ruffles

• A fine spoken customhouse officer he,

Who smil❜d as he gaz'd on the venison and me.

'What have we got here? Why, this is good eating! Your own, I suppose or is it in waiting?' 'Why, whose should it be?' cried I with a flounce: '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 ostentation.'

"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 insist on't — precisely at three: We'll have Johnson and Burke, all the wits will

be there;

My acquaintance is slight, or I'd ask my lord Clare. And now that I think on't, as I am a sinner!

We wanted this venison to make out the dinner. What say you a pasty ?-it shall, and it must, 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

h

friend!'

[wind,

Thus, snatching his hat, he brush'd off like the And the porter and eatables follow'd behind.

Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf,

I'll take no denial - you shall, and you must.

No words, my dear Goldsmith! my very good friend!

h seizing

2

And 'nobody with me at sea but myself;'
Tho' I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty,
Yet Johnson and Burke, and a good venison pasty,
Were things that I never dislik'd in my life,
Though clogg'd with a coxcomb, and Kitty his wife.
So next day in due splendour to make my approach,
I drove to his door 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 struck me quite dumb [come; With tidings that Johnson and Burke 1would not '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're 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.

2 See the letters that passed between his Royal Highness Henry Duke of Cumberland, and Lady Grosvenor,-12mo, 1769.

But, I warrant for me, we shall make up the party.
Who dabble and write in the papers-like you.

At the top, a fried liver and bacon were seen; At the bottom was tripe, in a swingeing tureen; At the sides there was spinage and pudding made hot;

In the middle a place where the " pasty—was not. Now, my lord, as for tripe, it's my utter aversion, And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian; So there I sat stuck, like a horse in a pound, While the bacon and liver went merrily round: But what vex'd me most was that damn'd Scottish

rogue,

With his long-winded speeches, his smiles and his brogue,

And, Madam,' quoth he,' may this bit be my poison. n A prettier dinner I never set eyes on ;

Pray a slice of your liver, though, may I be curst, But I've eat of your tripe till I'm ready to burst.' The tripe!' quoth the Jew, with his chocolate

06

cheek,

'I could dine on this tripe seven days in a week: I like these here dinners, so pretty and small; But your friend there, the doctor, eats nothing at all.'

'O-ho!' quoth my friend, 'he'll come on in a trice, He's keeping a corner for something that's nice :

m venison

VARIATIONS.

"If a prettier dinner I ever set eyes on!

Your tripe!' quoth the Jew, 'If the truth I may speak,
I could eat of this tripe seven days in the week!'