To see one man completely blest!

See, Orford wisely laying down,

Nor giving foes one parting frown,

Whilst peace his latest hours shall crown; And good old Wilmington at rest.

With twice ten thousand pounds a year, You yet may live, and taste good cheer, 'll ne'er be Lord Treasurer,

Tho' you

So you repent you of that sin;

Whilst I, as others will, no doubt,

When **** returns with many a shout,

Shall laugh to see your friends trot out,

As shamefully as they came in.

WYNDHAM AND PULTNEY;

OR THE

VISION AT BATH.

BATH, vex'd with courts, the country sought,
To ease his troubled mind;
But little dreamt the angry Peer,
More trouble there to find.

He strove to lay aside all cares,

Ev'n those for wealth or fame

;

Nor brought a spark of malice down,
Except against the game.

The live-long day in sport he spent,
His toils surviv'd the light;

And yet, tho', wearied, home he came,
He slept not sound at night.

Oh, Thought, thou busy, restless thing, In Peasant and in Peer;

How durst thou plague so great a man,
Who holds his peace so dear?

A man so great, three nations once,
Did on his steps attend;

Ev'n Statesmen trembled at his frown,
And Kings to him did bend.

Yet him, at times, thou durst reproach,
Durst tax him with his deeds;

Thus boldly should a man presume,
For his offence he bleeds.

To stir his soul, yet 'scape his ire,
An act he would not boast,
Knowing no mortal venture might,
Thought introduced a ghost.

The night was as Corruption dark,

Like Justice, mankind slept;

When to his lordship's working brain,
This dreadful Vision crept.

VOL. I.

His mind revolving vast events,

His conscience Fancy caught;

And sudden to his aching sight,

Great Wyndham's * shadow brought.

With awful grandeur stalk'd the spright,
With terror shook the Peer;
When thus, the dread harangue begun,
He heard or seem'd to hear.

"Oh, Pultney! listen, Wyndham speaks, "To him and truth attend;

"Who, living, still your cause espous❜d, "And now in death your friend.

"How bright thy thought, thy words how free, "How upright seem'd thy soul:

"As if no hope thy heart could seize,

"Why didst thou seem so wise and good,

"And yet but act a part;

Why, when applauded for that skill,
"Did it not touch thy heart?

"How, once believing Virtue fair,

"Be to her cause untrue;

"Or fancy, after acting thus, "A title was thy due?

"Why justice seek, why fraud expose, "If this you did not mean?

"Or having both to light reveal'd,

"How could you zealous seem for right, "While meditating wrong?

"Or how believe, an ill-got pow'r

"Should e'er continue long?

By friends admir'd, by nations lov'd,

"Like Cato's, Pultney's name;

"How could'st thou slight so great a good,

"How fool away such fame?