The following political paraphrase of Oliver Goldsmith’s pleasing poem _Retaliation_, is taken from an anonymous collection, published in 1814, entitled “Posthumous Parodies and other Pieces, composed by several of our most celebrated Poets, but not published in any former Edition of their Works.” Several pieces from this collection have already been quoted in _Parodies_; they have nearly all a strong party bias in favour of the Tory Government of the day. The Politicians alluded to in the poem are, the Earl of Liverpool, Premier 1812 to 1827, died in 1828; Viscount Castlereagh (afterwards Marquis of Londonderry) Foreign Secretary, committed suicide in 1822; Lord Grenville, died in 1834; the Right Hon. George Canning author of the witty parodies in the “Anti-jacobin,” died 1827; Sir Francis Burdett, an opposition M.P., father of Lady Burdett Coutts, died 1844; Viscount Sidmouth, died 1844; the Right Hon. John Wilson Croker, died 1857; Samuel Whitbread, M.P., died 1815; the Right Hon. R. B. Sheridan, died 1816; Lord Chief Justice Ellenborough, died 1818; William Cobbett, M.P., for Oldham, died 1835; and Robert Waithman, M.P., Alderman and Lord Mayor of London, who died in 1833. Of late, when the pic-nics their parties invited, Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united; If the Speaker will get us the loaves and the fishes, We’ll serve up _ourselves_ for the rest of the dishes. Our L――v――rp――l’s beef at the top let us find, Old England’s famed diet for time out of mind: Let C――strl――gh’s turtle at bottom be placed, Restoring the system and pleasing the taste: And Gr――nv――lle’s fat haunch in the middle be put on, The rump very large, but a taint in the mutton, Our C――nn――ng is salt; for his talents are such That they heighten the taste of whatever they touch, While B――rd――tt resembles the onion that throws A vulgar effluvium wherever it goes. With a chicken well boiled, gentle S――dm――th will treat us, And Cr――k――r shall serve for our Irish potatoes: Brown stout shall be Wh――tbr――d, the dregs of the cup, And Shr――d――n, spruce, not sufficiently up. Push about, Mr. Speaker――I’ll sit, if I’m able, Till all these grave statesmen sink under the table; And while they are lying unconscious before us, We’ll talk of the men who have lorded it o’er us. Now L――v――rp――l’s Earl lies along at our feet, Who was eloquent often, and always discreet. If failings he had, he has left us in doubt, Though the Whigs spared no trouble in finding them out, But Scandal has said, he had more admiration For old-fashioned practice, than fresh speculation.