50
Poems on
Like lofty Mountains in the Clouds they hide
Their haughty heads, but swell with barren Pride;
And while low Vales in useful Beauty lie,
Heave their proud naked Summits to the Sky:
In Honour, as in Place, ye Great, transcend!
An Angel fal'n, degenerates to a Fiend:
Th'all-chearing Sun is honour'd with his Shrines,
Not, that he moves aloft, but that he shines:
Why flames the Star on [1]Walpole's generous Breast?
Not that he's highest, but because he's best,
Fond to oblige, in blessing others, blest.
Their haughty heads, but swell with barren Pride;
And while low Vales in useful Beauty lie,
Heave their proud naked Summits to the Sky:
In Honour, as in Place, ye Great, transcend!
An Angel fal'n, degenerates to a Fiend:
Th'all-chearing Sun is honour'd with his Shrines,
Not, that he moves aloft, but that he shines:
Why flames the Star on [1]Walpole's generous Breast?
Not that he's highest, but because he's best,
Fond to oblige, in blessing others, blest.
How wondrous few, by Avarice uncontroul'd,
Have Virtue to subdue the Thirst of Gold?
The shining Dirt the sordid Wretch ensnares
To buy with mighty Treasures, mighty Cares:
Have Virtue to subdue the Thirst of Gold?
The shining Dirt the sordid Wretch ensnares
To buy with mighty Treasures, mighty Cares:
Blindly
- ↑ The Right Honourable Sir Robert Walpole, created Knight of the most Noble Order of the Garter, 1726.
