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“ This proves thee, Sands, thy country's foe,

" And Desolation's friend; “ What can thy project be in this,

“ And what can be thy end ?

“ Is it that, conscious of thy worth,

Thy sense, thy parts, thy weight; “ Thou know'st this nation must be drunk,

“ E’re it can think thee great ?

“ Too high, poor Wren, hast thou been borne,

“ On Pultney's eagle wings ; “ Thou wert not form'd for great affairs,

“ Nor made to talk with kings.

“ But where's thy hate to Courts and pow'r?

Thy patriotism, Sands? “ Think’st thou that gown adorns thy shape,

“ That purse becomes thy hands ?

« As when the Fox


the ground “ A tragic mask espy'd ; “'O, whạt a specious front is here,

« • But where's the brain' he cry'd.

“ So thou, a lord of Treasury,

" And Chancellor art made; “ Sir Robert's place, and Robe, and Seal,

« Thou hast-but where's his head?

“ Thou’rt plac'd by far too high-in vain

To keep your post you strive; « In vain like Phaeton attempt,

“ A chariot you can't drive.

“ Each act you do, betrays your parts,

“ And tends to your undoing ; “ Each speech you make, your dulness shows,

" And certifies your ruin.

“ Think not, like oaks, to stand on high,

“ And brave the storms that blow; < But, like the reed, bend to the ground,

“ And to be safe, be low.

“ Poor in thyself, each party's joke,

• Each trifling songster's sport; “ Pelham supports thee in the House,

« The Earl of Bath at court.

« These are the men that push thee on,

“ In thy own nature's spite; “ So, like the moon, if thou could'st shine,

“ 'T would be by borrow'd light.

“ But soft, I scent the morning air,

“ The glow-worm pales its light; “ Farewell, remember me” it cry'd,

And vanish'd out of sight.

Sands, trembling, rose, frighted to death,

Of knowledge quite bereft;
And has, since that unhappy night,

Nor sense nor mem'ry left.

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OLD Jekyll's ghost in scorching flames,

Condemn'd to fast by day, Until the got in his youth,

Be cleans'd and purg'd away.

But soon as night, with sable wing,

Ascends her sable throne,
He quits his dismal prison-house,

And stalks thro' all this town.

To ministers and patriots goes,

For his poor country's service; Last week at Sandys' feet he stood,

And yesternight at Hervey's.

* John, Lord Hervey, Lord Privy Seal, being out of this Post on the change of Administration, went into Opposition, and made several Speeches in the House of Lords against the repeal of the Gin Act.-W.

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But, Oh, how different was his look,

From that which Sands appallid; Smiling he op'd the curtains wide,

And thrice on Hervey call’d.

His Lordship at the spectre quak’d,

And trembled in his bed ;
And would most surely have turn'd pale,

But that he'd put on red.

Thy courtly life is all forgot,” Thus did the ghost begin; And ev'ry trespass blotted out,

By talking against Gin.

“ This over all your former faults,

“ Shall dark oblivion bring; “ O'er ev'ry tale you told the Queen, *

“ Or whisper'd to the King.

• Lord Hervey had been a particular friend of Queen Carolines and wrote the Epitaph on her, which is satirized by Pope.

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