But now he is gone, and we want a detector, Our Dodds 1 shall be pious, our Kenricks" shall lecture; Macpherson 16 write bombast, and call it a style; Our Townshend make speeches, and I shall compile; [over, New Lauders and Bowers the Tweed shall cross No countryman living their tricks to discover; Detection her taper shall quench to a spark, And Scotchman meet Scotchman, and cheat in the dark. Here lies David Garrick, describe him who can, An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man: As an actor, confess'd without rival to shine; As a wit, if not first, in the very first line: Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart, The man had his failings-a dupe to his art. Like an ill judging beauty, his colours he spread, And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red. On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting; "Twas only that when he was off he was acting. With no reason on earth to go out of his way, He turn'd and he varied full ten times a day: Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick If they were not his own by finessing and trick: He cast off his friends, as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back. 14 The unfortunate Dr. Dodd. 15 Dr. Kenrick, who read lectures at the Devil Tavern, under the title of The School of Shakspeare.' 16 James Macpherson, who lately, from the mere force of his style, wrote down the first poet of all antiquity. grave, ", Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, And Beaumonts and Bens be his Kellys above. creature, And slander itself must allow him good nature; 17 Hugh Kelly, author of False Delicacy, Word to the Wise, Clementina, School for Wives, &c. &c. 18 Mr. W. Woodfall, printer of the Morning Chronicle. Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind: His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand; His pencil our faces, his manners our heart: When they talk'd of their Raphaels, Corregio's, and stuff, He shifted his trumpet', and only took snuff. POSTSCRIPT. [After the fourth edition of this poem was printed, the publisher received the following epitaph on Mr. Whitefoord', from a friend of the late Dr. Goldsmith.] HERE Whitefoord reclines, and deny it who can, 19 Sir Joshua Reynolds was so remarkably deaf as to be under the necessity of using an ear-trumpet in company. Mr. Caleb Whitefoord, author of many humorous Essays. 2 Mr. W. was so notorious a punster, that Dr. Goldsmith used to say it was impossible to keep him company, without being infected with the itch of punning. What pity, alas! that so liberal a mind Should so long be to newspaper essays confined! Merry Whitefoord, farewell! for thy sake I admit That a Scot may have humour, I had almost said This debt to thy memory I cannot refuse, [wit: 'Thou best humour'd man with the worst humour'd Muse.' To this Postscript the Reader may not be displeased to find added the following POETICAL EPISTLE TO DR. GOLDSMITH. OR, Supplement to his Retaliation. FROM THE GENTLEMAN'S MAGAZINE FOR AUGUST, 1778. DOCTOR, according to our wishes, Of various emblematic meat: 3 Mr. H. S. Woodfall, printer of the Public Advertiser. + Mr. Whitefoord has frequently indulged the town with humorous pieces under those titles in the Public Advertiser. And now it's time, I trust, you'll think To Douglas, fraught with learned stock For if there's fault in taste, or odour, And crown his cup with priestly Port. Now fill the glass with gay champagne, And frisk it in a livelier strain; Quick, quick the sparkling nectar quaff, If e'er his colours chance to fade, |