Our Dodds fhall be pious, our † Kenricks fhall lecture; Macpherson write bombaft, and call it a ftyle, Our § Townshend make speeches, and I fhall compile; And Scotchman meet Scotchman and cheatin the dark. Here lies David Garrick, defcribe me who can, The Rev. Dr. Dodd. Dr. Kenrick, who read lectures at the Devil tavern, under the title of "The School of Shakespeare." James Macpherson, efq; who lately, from the mere force of his ftyle, wrote down the first poet of all antiquity. Vide page 98. ¶ Vide page 98. Though Vide page 99. Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly fick, For he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle them back. Of praise a mere glutton, he fwallow'd what came, How did Grub-street re-echo the fhouts that you rais'd, To act as an angel and mix with the fkies: Old Shakespeare, receive him, with praife and with love, And Beaumonts and Bens be his + Kellys above * Vide page 102. Mr. Hugh Kelly, author of Falfe Delicacy, Word to the Wife, Clementina, School for Wives, &c. &c. Mr. William Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle. 1,04 RETALIATION. Here Hickey reclines, a moft blunt, pleafant creature, And flander itself must allow him good nature; He cherish'd his friend, and he relish'd a bumper; Then what was his failing? come tell it, and burn ye, He was, could he help it? a special attorney. Here+ Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart: When they judg'd without fkill he was still hard of hearing: When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Corregios and stuff, He shifted his trumpet, and only took snuff." * Vide page 98. + Ibid Sir Joshua Reynolds is fo remarkably deaf as to be under the neceffity of ufing an ear-trumpet in company. POST POST SCRIPT. AFTER FTER the fourth edition of this poem was printed, the publisher received the following epitaph on Mr. Whitefoord, from a friend of the late doctor Goldsmith. HERE Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can, Though he merrily lived, he is now a† grave man : Rare compound of oddity, frolic and fun! Who relish'd a joke, and rejoic'd in a pun; Whose temper was generous, open, fincere; A ftranger to flatt'ry, a ftranger to fear; Who fcatter'd around wit and humour at will; Whofe daily bons mots half a column might fill: A Scotchman, from pride and from prejudice free; A scholar, yet furely no pedant was he. What pity, alas! that fo lib'ral a mind Should fo long be to news-paper effays confin'd! Who perhaps to the fummit of science could foar, Yet content if the table he fet in a roar ;" * Mr. Caleb Whitefoord, author of many humorous effays + Mr. W. was fo notorious a punfter, that doctor GoldSmith used to say it was impoffible to keep him company, without being infected with the itch of punning. Whofe 306 POST SCRIPT. Whofe talents to fill any station was fit, Ye news-paper witlings! ye pert fcribbling folks! Still follow your master, and visit his tomb : Merry Whitefoord, farewel! for thy fake I admit That a Scot may have humour, I had almost said wit: This debt to thy mem❜ry I cannot refuse, "Thou beft humour'd man with the worst humour'd "mufe." • Mr. H. S. Woodfall, printer of the Publick Advertiser. Mr. Whitefoord has frequently indulged the town with humorous pieces under thofe titles in the Public Advertiser. SONG. |