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Here Hickey reclines, a most blunt, pleasant.
And slander itself must allow him good nature;
Be sure, as I work, to throw in contradictions;
A great love of truth, yet a mind turn'd to fictions.
Now mix these ingredients, which, warm'd in the baking,
Tip his tongue with strange matter, his pen with fine taste.
For the joy of each sex, on the world I'll bestow it,
ON DR. GOLDSMITH'S CHARACTERISTICAL COOKERY.
ARE these the choice dishes the Doctor has sent us?
81 Vide page 78.
Then what was his failing? come, tell it, and
Here 32 Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind,
His pencil our faces, his manners our heart.
When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Correggios, and stuff,
He shifted his 3 trumpet, and only took snuff.
82 Vide page 78.
38 Sir Joshua Reynolds was so remarkably deaf as to be under the necessity of using an ear-trumpet in company.-See La Vie de Le Sage, p. xiii. "Il faisait usage d'un cornet qu'il appeloit son bienfaiteur. Quand je trouve, disoit-il, des visages nouveaux, et que j'espère rencontrer des gens d'esprit, je tire mon cornet; quand ce sont des sots, je le resserre et je les défie de m'ennuyer."
AFTER the fourth edition of this poem was printed, the publisher received the following epitaph on Mr. Whitefoord,34 from a friend of the late Dr. Goldsmith:
HERE Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can, Though he merrily liv'd, he is now a 55 grave
Rare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun!
What pity, alas! that so liberal a mind Should so long be to newspaper essays confin'd! Who perhaps to the summit of science could soar, Yet content if the table he set in a roar;' Whose talents to fill any station were fit, Yet happy if 6 Woodfall confess'd him a wit.
34 Mr. Caleb Whitefoord, author of many humorous essays. 35 Mr. W. was so notorious a punster, that Doctor Goldsmith used to say it was impossible to keep him company, without being infected with the itch of punning.
36 Mr. H. S. Woodfall, printer of the Public Advertiser.
Ye newspaper witlings! ye pert scribbling folks! Who copied his squibs, and re-echoed his jokes : Ye tame imitators, ye servile herd, come, Still follow your master, and visit his tomb: To deck it, bring with you festoons of the vine, And copious libations bestow on his shrine; Then strew all around it (you can do no less) 37 Cross readings, ship news, and mistakes of the press.
Merry Whitefoord, farewell! for thy sake I admit That a Scot may have humour, I had almost said wit:
This debt to thy memory I cannot refuse,
886 Thou best humour'd man with the worst humour'd muse.'
37 Mr. Whitefoord has frequently indulged the town with humorous pieces under those titles in the Public Advertiser. On C. Whitefoord, see Smith's Life of Nollekens, vol. i. p. 338-340. See his poem to Sir Joshua Reynolds, Admire not, dear knight,' in Northcote's Life of Reynolds, p. 128. 28When you and Southern, Moyle, and Congreve meet,
The best good men, with the best natured wit.'
C. Hopkins. v. Nicholls' Col. Poems, ii. p. 207.