And, now that I think on't, as I am a sinner! Left alone to reflect, having emptied my shelf, When come to the place where we all were to dine, (A chair-lumbered closet just twelve feet by nine :) My friend bade we welcome, but struck me quite dumb, [come; With tidings that Johnson and Burke would 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." * See the letters that passed between his royal highness Henry, duke of Cumberland, and lady Grosvenor-12mo. 1769. While thus he described them by trade and by name, They entered, and dinner was served as they came. rogue, At the top a fried liver and bacon were seen, At the bottom was tripe, in a swinging tureen; [hot; At the sides there was spinnage and pudding made 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 vexed me most was that d- -ed Scottish [brogue; With his long-winded speeches, his smiles and his And," madam," quoth he," may this bit be my poiA prettier dinner I never set eyes on: [son, 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 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: There's a pasty,"-" a pasty !" repeated the jew; "I dont care if I keep a corner for't too." "What the de'il, mon, a pasty!" re-echoed the Scot, "Though splitting, I'll still keep a corner for that." "We'll all keep a corner," the lady cried out; "We'll all keep a corner," was echoed about. While thus we resolved, and the pasty delayed, With looks that quite petrified, entered the maid; A visage so sad, and so pale with affright, [ker : But we quickly found out, for who could mistake her: THE GIFT. To Iris, in Bow-street, Covent-Garden. SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake, Dear mercenary beauty, What annual offering shall I make My heart a victim to thine eyes, Say, would the angry fair-one prize A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy, My rivals give-and let 'em. If gems, or gold impart a joy, I'll give them when I get 'em. I'll give-but not the full-blown rose, I'll give thee something yet unpaid, I'll give thee-ah! too charming maid, A NEW SIMILE, IN THE MANNER OF SWIFT. LONG had I sought in vain to find But let us not proceed too furious; You'll find him pictured at full length In the next place, his feet peruse, Lastly, vouchsafe t' observe his hand, Though ne'er so much awake before, |