Retaliation Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDDEEFFGGHHAAII AA JJAAKK LLAAAAMMAAAADD AANNOOPQ AARRSSTTEU VVDDWWAAAAQQAAXXYY ZZZZQQDDA2A2DDB2B2 C2C2WWAAAAMMD2D2TTE2 E2F2F2ZZAAG2G2AAZZH2 H2I2I2 DDDDDDAAJ2J2AA AAAAAAMMK2K2 A A C2C2 PPDDH2H2AA AADDAA ZZKL2WWZZ AAZ

Of old when Scarron his companions invitedA
Each guest brought his dish and the feast was unitedA
If our landlord supplies us with beef and with fishB
Let each guest bring himself and he brings the best dishB
Our Dean shall be venison just fresh from the plainsC
Our Burke shall be tongue with a garnish of brainsC
Our Will shall be wild fowl of excellent flavourD
And Dick with his pepper shall heighten their savourD
Our Cumberland's sweet bread its place shall obtainE
And Douglas is pudding substantial and plainE
Our Garrick's a salad for in him we seeF
Oil vinegar sugar and saltness agreeF
To make out the dinner full certain I amG
That Ridge is anchovy and Reynolds is lambG
That Hickey's a capon and by the same ruleH
Magnanimous Goldsmith a gooseberry foolH
At a dinner so various at such a repastA
Who'd not be a glutton and stick to the lastA
Here waiter more wine let me sit while I'm ableI
Till all my companions sink under the tableI
Then with chaos and blunders encircling my headA
Let me ponder and tell what I think of the deadA
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Here lies the good Dean re united to earthJ
Who mix'd reason with pleasure and wisdom with mirthJ
If he had any faults he has left us in doubtA
At least in six weeks I could not find 'em outA
Yet some have declar'd and it can't be denied 'emK
That sly boots was cursedly cunning to hide 'emK
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Here lies our good Edmund whose genius was suchL
We scarcely can praise it or blame it too muchL
Who born for the Universe narrow'd his mindA
And to party gave up what was meant for mankindA
Though fraught with all learning yet straining his throatA
To persuade Tommy Townshend to lend him a voteA
Who too deep for his hearers still went on refiningM
And thought of convincing while they thought of diningM
Though equal to all things for all things unfitA
Too nice for a statesman too proud for a witA
For a patriot too cool for a drudge disobedientA
And too fond of the 'right' to pursue the 'expedient'A
In short 'twas his fate unemploy'd or in place SirD
To eat mutton cold and cut blocks with a razorD
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Here lies honest William whose heart was a mintA
While the owner ne'er knew half the good that was in'tA
The pupil of impulse it forc'd him alongN
His conduct still right with his argument wrongN
Still aiming at honour yet fearing to roamO
The coachman was tipsy the chariot drove homeO
Would you ask for his merits alas he had noneP
What was good was spontaneous his faults were his ownQ
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Here lies honest Richard whose fate I must sigh atA
Alas that such frolic should now be so quietA
What spirits were his what wit and what whimR
Now breaking a jest and now breaking a limbR
Now wrangling and grumbling to keep up the ballS
Now teasing and vexing yet laughing at allS
In short so provoking a devil was DickT
That we wish'd him full ten times a day at Old NickT
But missing his mirth and agreeable veinE
As often we wish'd to have Dick back againU
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Here Cumberland lies having acted his partsV
The Terence of England the mender of heartsV
A flattering painter who made it his careD
To draw men as they ought to be not as they areD
His gallants are all faultless his women divineW
And comedy wonders at being so fineW
Like a tragedy queen he has dizen'd her outA
Or rather like tragedy giving a routA
His fools have their follies so lost in a crowdA
Of virtues and feelings that folly grows proudA
And coxcombs alike in their failings aloneQ
Adopting his portraits are pleas'd with their ownQ
Say where has our poet this malady caughtA
Or wherefore his characters thus without faultA
Say was it that vainly directing his viewX
To find out men's virtues and finding them fewX
Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elfY
He grew lazy at last and drew from himselfY
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Here Douglas retires from his toils to relaxZ
The scourge of impostors the terror of quacksZ
Come all ye quack bards and ye quacking divinesZ
Come and dance on the spot where your tyrant reclinesZ
When Satire and Censure encircl'd his throneQ
I fear'd for your safety I fear'd for my ownQ
But now he is gone and we want a detectorD
Our Dodds shall be pious our Kenricks shall lectureD
Macpherson write bombast and call it a styleA2
Our Townshend make speeches and I shall compileA2
New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall cross overD
No countryman living their tricks to discoverD
Detection her taper shall quench to a sparkB2
And Scotchman meet Scotchman and cheat in the darkB2
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Here lies David Garrick describe me who canC2
An abridgment of all that was pleasant in manC2
As an actor confess'd without rival to shineW
As a wit if not first in the very first lineW
Yet with talents like these and an excellent heartA
The man had his failings a dupe to his artA
Like an ill judging beauty his colours he spreadA
And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural redA
On the stage he was natural simple affectingM
'Twas only that when he was off he was actingM
With no reason on earth to go out of his wayD2
He turn'd and he varied full ten times a dayD2
Though secure of our hearts yet confoundedly sickT
If they were not his own by finessing and trickT
He cast off his friends as a huntsman his packE2
For he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle them backE2
Of praise a mere glutton he swallow'd what cameF2
And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fameF2
Till his relish grown callous almost to diseaseZ
Who pepper'd the highest was surest to pleaseZ
But let us be candid and speak out our mindA
If dunces applauded he paid them in kindA
Ye Kenricks ye Kellys and Woodfalls so graveG2
What a commerce was yours while you got and you gaveG2
How did Grub street re echo the shouts you rais'dA
While he was be Roscius'd and you were be prais'dA
But peace to his spirit wherever it fliesZ
To act as an angel and mix with the skiesZ
Those poets who owe their best fame to his skillH2
Shall still be his flatterers go where he willH2
Old Shakespeare receive him with praise and with loveI2
And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys aboveI2
-
Here Hickey reclines a most blunt pleasant creatureD
And slander itself must allow him good natureD
He cherish'd his friend and he relish'd a bumperD
Yet one fault he had and that one was a thumperD
Perhaps you may ask if the man was a miserD
I answer no no for he always was wiserD
Too courteous perhaps or obligingly flatA
His very worst foe can't accuse him of thatA
Perhaps he confided in men as they goJ2
And so was too foolishly honest Ah noJ2
Then what was his failing come tell it and burn yeA
He was could he help it a special attorneyA
-
Here Reynolds is laid and to tell you my mindA
He has not left a better or wiser behindA
His pencil was striking resistless and grandA
His manners were gentle complying and blandA
Still born to improve us in every partA
His pencil our faces his manners our heartA
To coxcombs averse yet most civilly steeringM
When they judg'd without skill he was still hard of hearingM
When they talk'd of their Raphaels Correggios and stuffK2
He shifted his trumpet and only took snuffK2
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POSTSCRIPTA
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After the Fourth Edition of this Poem was printed the Publisher received an Epitaph on Mr Whitefoord from a friend of the late Doctor Goldsmith inclosed in a letter of which the following is an abstractA
-
'I have in my possession a sheet of paper containing near forty lines in the Doctor's own hand writing there are many scattered broken verses on Sir Jos Reynolds Counsellor Ridge Mr Beauclerk and Mr Whitefoord The Epitaph on the last mentioned gentleman is the only one that is finished and therefore I have copied it that you may add it to the next edition It is a striking proof of Doctor Goldsmith's good nature I saw this sheet of paper in the Doctor's room five or six days before he died and as I had got all the other Epitaphs I asked him if I might take it In truth you may my Boy replied he for it will be of no use to me where I am going '-
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Here Whitefoord reclines and deny it who canC2
Though he 'merrily' liv'd he is now a 'grave' manC2
-
Rare compound of oddity frolic and funP
Who relish'd a joke and rejoic'd in a punP
Whose temper was generous open sincereD
A stranger to flatt'ry a stranger to fearD
Who scatter'd around wit and humour at willH2
Whose daily 'bons mots' half a column might fillH2
A Scotchman from pride and from prejudice freeA
A scholar yet surely no pedant was heA
-
What pity alas that so lib'ral a mindA
Should so long be to news paper essays confin'dA
Who perhaps to the summit of science could soarD
Yet content 'if the table he set on a roar'D
Whose talents to fill any station were fitA
Yet happy if Woodfall confess'd him a witA
-
Ye news paper witlings ye pert scribbling folksZ
Who copied his squibs and re echoed his jokesZ
Ye tame imitators ye servile herd comeK
Still follow your master and visit his tombL2
To deck it bring with you festoons of the vineW
And copious libations bestow on his shrineW
Then strew all around it you can do no lessZ
'Cross readings Ship news' and 'Mistakes of the Press'Z
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Merry Whitefoord farewell for 'thy' sake I admitA
That a Scot may have humour I had almost said witA
This debt to thy mem'ry I cannot refuseZ
'Thou best humour'd man with the worst humour'd muse '-

Oliver Goldsmith



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