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out of his wo courteous, perhaps, or obligingly flat? en times a very worst foe can't accuse him of that : ce confoun: Irhaps he confided in men as they go, sessing and nd so was too foolishly honest ? Ah no!
[ye, man his phen what was his failing? come, tell it, and burn J he couille was, could he help it? a special attorney.
Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, low'd while has not left a wiser or better behind : ok it for illis pencil was striking, resistless, and grand; sf to diw His manners were gentle, complying, and bland ;
Still born to improve us in every part, rest to put
His pencil our faces, his manners our heart :
To coxcombs averse, yet most civilly steering,
When they juilg'd without skill he was still hard
of hearing i
(stuff, When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Corregios, and He shifted his trumpet," and only took snuff.
our me in kind. Fallst of you 6
After the fourth edition of this poem was printed, the Publisher
received the following Epitaph on Mr. Whitefoord,t from a
friend of the late Dr. Goldsmith.)
Hene Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can,
Though he merrily liv’d, he is now a grave man:*
Rare compound of oddity, frolic, and fun!
Who relish'd a joke, and rejoic'd in a pun;
• Sir Joshua Reynolds was so remarkably deal, as to be under the necessity of using an ear-trumpet in company. + Mr. Caleb Whitefoord, author of many humorous essays.
Mr. W. is so notorious * punster, that Dr. Goldsmith used to say it was impossible to keep him company, without being in fected with the itch of punning.
Whose temper was generous, open, sincere ;
A stranger to flattery, a stranger to fear;
Who scatter'd around wit and humour at will ;
Whose daily bon mots half a column might fill :
A Scotchman, from pride and from prejudice free;
A scholar, yet surely no pedant was he.
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 Woodfall* confessed him a wit.
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 bis 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) Cro88-readings, ship-news, and mistakes of the press.t
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, • Thou best humour'd man with the worst humour'd
* Mr. H. S. Woodfall, printer of the Public Advertiser.
+ Mr. Whitefoord has frequently indulged the town with hu| mourous pieces under those titles in the Public Advertiser.
| A line nearly taken from Rochester's character of Charles, earl of Dorset.
SECLUDED from domestic strife,
Jack Book-worm led a college life;
A fellowship at twenty-five
Made him the happiest man alive ;
He drank his glass, and crack'd his joke,
And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.
Such pleasures, unalloy'd with care,
Could any accident impair?
Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix
Our swain, arriv'd at thirty-six ?
O had the archér ne'er come down
To ravage in a country town;
Or Flavia been content to stop
At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop!
O had her eyes forgot to blaze !
Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze;
Oh! -but let exclamation cease ;
Her presence banish'd all his peace:
So with decorum all things carried,
Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then was-married.
Need we expose to vulgar sight
The raptures of the bridal night?
Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,
Or draw the curtains clos'd around?
Let it suffice, that each had charms :
He clasp'd a goddess in his arms;
And, though she felt bis usage rough,
Yet in a man 'twas well enough.
The honey-moon like lightning flew;
The second brought its transports too;
A third, a fourth, were not amiss ;
The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss :
But when a twelvemonth pass’d away,
Jack found his goddess made of clay ;
Found half the charms that deck'd her face
Arose from powder, shreds, or lace ;
But still the worst remain'd behind,
That very face had robb’d her mind.
Skill'd in no other arts was she
But dressing, patching, repartee;
And, just as humour rose or fell,
By turns a slattern or a belle;
'Tis true she dress’d with modern grace,
Half 'naked at a ball or race ;
But when at home, at board or bed,
Five greasy nightcaps wrapt head.
Could so much beauty condescend
To be a dull domestic friend?
Could any curtain-lectures bring
To decency so fine a thing?
In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting ;
By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.
Fond to be seen, she kept a bevy
Of powder'd coxcombs at her levee :
The 'squire and captain took their stations,
And twenty other near relations.
Jack suck'd his pipe, and often broke
A sigh in suffocating smoke;
While all their hours were past between
Insulting repartee or spleen.
Thus as her faults each day were known,
He thinks her features coarser grown: '
He fancies every tice she shows,
Or thins her lip, or points her nose;
Whenever rage or envy rise,
How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes;
He knows not how, but so it is,
Her face is grown a knowing phiz ;
And though her fops are wondrous civil,
He thinks her ugly as the devil.
Now, to perplex the ravell’d noose,
As each a different way pursues,
While sullen or loquacious strife
Promis'd to hold them on for life,
That dire disease, whose ruthless pow'r
Withers the beauty's transient flow'r,
Lo! the small-pox, whose horrid glare
Levell’d its terrors at the fair;
And, rifling every youthful grace,
Left but the remnant of a face.
The glass, grown hateful to her sight, Reflected now a perfect fright: Each former art she vainly tries To bring back lustre to her eyes. In vain she tries her pastes and creams To smooth her skin, or hide its seams; Her country beaux and city cousins, Lovers no more, flew off by dozens : The 'squire himself was seen to yield, And e’en the captain quit the field. Poor madam, now condemn’d to hack The rest of life with anxious Jack, Perceiving others fairly flown, Attempted pleasing him alone. Jack soon was dazzled to behold Her present face surpass the old ;