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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,
Tho' you 'll ne'er be Lord Treasurer,

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.




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

r; 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.


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



“ How bright thy thought, thy words how free,

“ How upright seem'd thy soul : As if no hope thy heart could seize,

“ Nor any fear control.

Sir William Wyndham.

“ 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 reveald,

Why, after, turn a screen?

“ 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?

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