102
POEMS.
Or is there midst his Followers One, whom best
His partial eye and springing heart approve?
Lock, royal Wretch, the secret in your breast,
Nor bid distinction damn the Man you love!
His partial eye and springing heart approve?
Lock, royal Wretch, the secret in your breast,
Nor bid distinction damn the Man you love!
The Sovereign's Friend is still the People's hate;
Whom Kings still favour, Subjects still revile.———
Rise, Shade of B—! Thy mystic tale relate,
And say, what blessings followed G—'s smile.
Whom Kings still favour, Subjects still revile.———
Rise, Shade of B—! Thy mystic tale relate,
And say, what blessings followed G—'s smile.
Thou best canst tell,—"none more for insult born,
Than Him none branded more with public shame,
Who bears the Courtier's hate, the Nation's scorn,
The Favourite's office, and the Minion's name."—
Than Him none branded more with public shame,
Who bears the Courtier's hate, the Nation's scorn,
The Favourite's office, and the Minion's name."—
Yet much a Friend He needs, who born to reign
Is born the prey of Rapine, Vice, and Art;
While Pomp and Power unite to fire his brain,
And Pride and Passion to mislead his heart.
Is born the prey of Rapine, Vice, and Art;
While Pomp and Power unite to fire his brain,
And Pride and Passion to mislead his heart.
