Like a tragedy queen he has dizen'd them out,
Or rather like tragedy giving a rout.

His fools have their follies fo loft in a crowd
Of virtues and feelings, that folly grows proud,
And coxcombs alike in their failings alone,
Adopting his portraits are pleas'd with their own.
Say, where has our poet this malady caught;
Or, wherefore his characters thus without fault?
Say, was it that vainly directing his view
To find out men's virtues, and finding them few,
Quite fick of pursuing each troublesome elf,
He
grew lazy at last, and drew for himself?

*

Here Douglas retires from his toils to relax, The fcourge of impoftors, the terror of quacks: Come all ye quack bards, and ye quacking divines, Come, and dance on the spot where your tyrant reclines,

When fatire and cenfure encircled his throne,

I fear'd for your fafety, I fear'd for my own;
But now he is gone, and we want a detector,
Our Dodds fhall be pions, our ‡ Kenricks fhall
lecture;

Macpherson write bombaft, and call it a style,
Our Townshend make fpeeches, and I fhall compile ;
New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed fhall cross over,
No countryman living their tricks to discover;

* Vide

page 200.

The Rev. Dr. Dodd.

Mr. Kenrick lately 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 200.

§ Vide page 200.

Detection her taper fhall quench to a spark,

And Scotchman meet Scotchman and cheat in the dark.

Here lies David Garrick, defcribe him who can, An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man; As an actor, confeft without rival to fhine; As a wit, if not first, in the very first line : Yet, with talents like thefe, and an excellent heart, The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. Like an an ill-judging beauty, his colours he spread, And beplaster'd, with rouge, his own natural red. On the stage he was natural, fimple, affecting; 'Twas only that, when he was off, he was acting. With no reafon on earth to go out of his way, He turn'd and he vary'd full ten times a-day: Tho' fecure of our hearts, yet confoundedly fick, If they were not his own by fineffing and trick: He cast off his friends, as a huntsman his pack,

For he new when he pleas'd he could whistle them back.

Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came,
And the puff of a dunce, he mistook it for fame;
'Till his relish grown callous, almoft to disease,
Who pepper'd the highest was fureft to please.
But let us be candid, and speak out our mind,
If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind.
Yet Kenricks, yet Kellys, and || Woodfalls fo grave,
What a commerce was yours, while

you got what you

gave?

* Vide page 200.

+ Vide page 203.

Mr. Hugh Kelly, author of Falle Delicacy, Word to the wife, Clementina, School for wives, &e.

Mr. William Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle,

How did Grub-street re-echo the fhouts that you rais'd,
While he was berofcius'd, and you were beprais'd?
But peace to his fpirit, wherever it flies,

To act as an angel, and mix with the skies :
Thofe poets, who owe their best fame to his fkill,
Shall fill be his flatterers, go where he will.

Old Shakespeare, receive him, with praise and with love,

And Beaumonts and Bens be his * Kellys above.

Here Hickey reclines, a moft blunt pleasant crea

ture,

And flander itself muft allow him good nature:
He cherish'd his friend and he relih'd a bumper;
Yet one fault he had and that one was a thumper.
Perhaps you may ask if the man was a mifer;
I answer, no, no, for he always was wifer.
Too courteous perhaps, or obligingly flat?
His very worst foe can't accufe him of that:
Perhaps he confided in men as they go,
And fo was too foolfaly honeft? ah no!

Then what was his failing? come tell it, and burn ye,----
He was, could he help it? a fpecial attorney.

Here Reynolds is laid, and, to tell you my mind, He has not left a wifer, or better behind; His pencil was ftriking, refiftlefs and grand; His manners were gentle, complying and bland; Still born to improve us in every part,

His pencil our faces, his manners our heart :

* Vide page 204.

+ Vide page 200. Ibid.

To coxcombs averfe, yet moft civilly fteering,
When they judg'd without fkill he was ftill hard of
hearing:

When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Corregios and
ftuff,

He shifted his trumpet, and only took fnuff.

* Sir Joshua Reynolds is fo remarkably deaf as to be under the neceffity of ufing an ear trumpet in company.

OCTOR! according to your wishes,
Youv'e character'd us all in dishes,

Serv'd up a fentimental treat

Of various emblamatic meat:

And now it's time, I trust, you think,
Your company should have fome drink ;
Elfe, take my word for it, at least,
Your Irish friends wont like your feaft,
Ring then, and fee that there is plac'd
To each according to his tafte.

To Douglas, fraught with learn'd ftock Of critic Lore, give ancient Hock;

T