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When the loud Cares of Bus'ness are withdrawn,
Nor well-drest Beggars round thy Footsteps fawn;
In that still, thoughtful, solitary Hour,
When Truth exerts her unresisted Pow'r,
Breaks the false Optics ting'd with Fortune's Glare,225
Unlocks the Breast and lays the Passions bare;
Then turn thy Eyes on that important Scene,
And ask thyselfif all be well within.
Where is the Heart-felt Worth and Weight of Soul,
Which Labour cou'd not stop, nor Fear controul?230
Where the known Dignity, the Stamp of Awe,
Which, half abash'd, the Proud and Venal saw?
Where the calm Triumphs of an honest Cause?
Where the delightful Taste of just Applause?
Where the strong Reason, the commanding Tongue,235
On which the Senate fir'd or trembling hung?
All vanish'd, all are soldAnd in their Room,
Couch'd in thy Bosom's deep, distracted Gloom,
