The Haunch Of Venison - A Poetical Epistle To Lord Clare Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCCDBEEFFGGHH IIEEBBJKLLDDMMBBBBBB BBC GGN OOBBPPAABBBBBB DDBBDDEE QQRRSSBBDDD TT UUBBUUBBVVUUBBVVS WWD B BBBBBBAAUUXXBBVVUUYY| Thanks my Lord for your venison for finer or fatter | A |
| Never rang'd in a forest or smok'd in a platter | A |
| The haunch was a picture for painters to study | B |
| The fat was so white and the lean was so ruddy | B |
| Though my stomach was sharp I could scarce help regretting | C |
| To spoil such a delicate picture by eating | C |
| I had thoughts in my chambers to place it in view | D |
| To be shown to my friends as a piece of 'virtu' | B |
| As in some Irish houses where things are so so | E |
| One gammon of bacon hangs up for a show | E |
| But for eating a rasher of what they take pride in | F |
| They'd as soon think of eating the pan it is fried in | F |
| But hold let me pause Don't I hear you pronounce | G |
| This tale of the bacon a damnable bounce | G |
| Well suppose it a bounce sure a poet may try | H |
| By a bounce now and then to get courage to fly | H |
| - | |
| But my Lord it's no bounce I protest in my turn | I |
| It's a truth and your Lordship may ask Mr Byrne | I |
| To go on with my tale as I gaz'd on the haunch | E |
| I thought of a friend that was trusty and staunch | E |
| So I cut it and sent it to Reynolds undress'd | B |
| To paint it or eat it just as he lik'd best | B |
| Of the neck and the breast I had next to dispose | J |
| 'Twas a neck and a breast that might rival M r 's | K |
| But in parting with these I was puzzled again | L |
| With the how and the who and the where and the when | L |
| There's H d and C y and H rth and H ff | D |
| I think they love venison I know they love beef | D |
| There's my countryman H gg ns Oh let him alone | M |
| For making a blunder or picking a bone | M |
| But hang it to poets who seldom can eat | B |
| Your very good mutton's a very good treat | B |
| Such dainties to them their health it might hurt | B |
| It's like sending them ruffles when wanting a shirt | B |
| While thus I debated in reverie centred | B |
| An acquaintance a friend as he call'd himself enter'd | B |
| An under bred fine spoken fellow was he | B |
| And he smil'd as he look'd at the venison and me | B |
| 'What have we got here Why this is good eating | C |
| Your own I suppose or is it in waiting ' | - |
| 'Why whose should it be ' cried I with a flounce | G |
| 'I get these things often ' but that was a bounce | G |
| 'Some lords my acquaintance that settle the nation | N |
| Are pleas'd to be kind but I hate ostentation ' | - |
| - | |
| 'If that be the case then ' cried he very gay | O |
| 'I'm glad I have taken this house in my way | O |
| To morrow you take a poor dinner with me | B |
| No words I insist on't precisely at three | B |
| We'll have Johnson and Burke all the wits will be there | P |
| My acquaintance is slight or I'd ask my Lord Clare | P |
| And now that I think on't as I am a sinner | A |
| We wanted this venison to make out the dinner | A |
| What say you a pasty it shall and it must | B |
| And my wife little Kitty is famous for crust | B |
| Here porter this venison with me to Mile end | B |
| No stirring I beg my dear friend my dear friend | B |
| Thus snatching his hat he brush'd off like the wind | B |
| And the porter and eatables follow'd behind | B |
| - | |
| Left alone to reflect having emptied my shelf | D |
| 'And nobody with me at sea but myself' | D |
| Though I could not help thinking my gentleman hasty | B |
| Yet Johnson and Burke and a good venison pasty | B |
| Were things that I never dislik'd in my life | D |
| Though clogg'd with a coxcomb and Kitty his wife | D |
| So next day in due splendour to make my approach | E |
| I drove to his door in my own hackney coach | E |
| - | |
| When come to the place where we all were to dine | Q |
| A chair lumber'd closet just twelve feet by nine | Q |
| My friend bade me welcome but struck me quite dumb | R |
| With tidings that Johnson and Burke would not come | R |
| 'For I knew it ' he cried 'both eternally fail | S |
| The one with his speeches and t'other with Thrale | S |
| But no matter I'll warrant we'll make up the party | B |
| With two full as clever and ten times as hearty | B |
| The one is a Scotchman the other a Jew | D |
| They 're both of them merry and authors like you | D |
| The one writes the 'Snarler' the other the 'Scourge' | D |
| Some think he writes 'Cinna' he own to 'Panurge' ' | - |
| While thus he describ'd them by trade and by name | T |
| They enter'd and dinner was serv'd as they came | T |
| - | |
| At the top a fried liver and bacon were seen | U |
| At the bottom was tripe in a swinging tureen | U |
| At the sides there was spinach and pudding made hot | B |
| In the middle a place where the pasty was not | B |
| Now my Lord as for tripe it's my utter aversion | U |
| And your bacon I hate like a Turk or a Persian | U |
| So there I sat stuck like a horse in a pound | B |
| While the bacon and liver went merrily round | B |
| But what vex'd me most was that d 'd Scottish rogue | V |
| With his long winded speeches his smiles and his brogue | V |
| And 'Madam ' quoth he 'may this bit be my poison | U |
| A prettier dinner I never set eyes on | U |
| Pray a slice of your liver though may I be curs'd | B |
| But I've eat of your tripe till I'm ready to burst | B |
| 'The tripe ' quoth the Jew with his chocolate cheek | V |
| 'I could dine on this tripe seven days in the week | V |
| I like these here dinners so pretty and small | S |
| But your friend there the Doctor eats nothing at all ' | - |
| 'O Oh ' quoth my friend 'he'll come on in a trice | W |
| He's keeping a corner for something that's nice | W |
| There's a pasty' 'A pasty ' repeated the Jew | D |
| 'I don't care if I keep a corner for't too ' | - |
| 'What the de'il mon a pasty ' re echoed the Scot | B |
| 'Though splitting I'll still keep a corner for thot ' | - |
| 'We'll all keep a corner ' the lady cried out | B |
| 'We'll all keep a corner ' was echoed about | B |
| While thus we resolv'd and the pasty delay'd | B |
| With look that quite petrified enter'd the maid | B |
| A visage so sad and so pale with affright | B |
| Wak'd Priam in drawing his curtains by night | B |
| But we quickly found out for who could mistake her | A |
| That she came with some terrible news from the baker | A |
| And so it fell out for that negligent sloven | U |
| Had shut out the pasty on shutting his oven | U |
| Sad Philomel thus but let similes drop | X |
| And now that I think on't the story may stop | X |
| To be plain my good Lord it's but labour misplac'd | B |
| To send such good verses to one of your taste | B |
| You've got an odd something a kind of discerning | V |
| A relish a taste sicken'd over by learning | V |
| At least it's your temper as very well known | U |
| That you think very slightly of all that's your own | U |
| So perhaps in your habits of thinking amiss | Y |
| You may make a mistake and think slightly of this | Y |
Oliver Goldsmith
(1)
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