For now he's popular no more,
Has lost the power he had before,
And his best friends, the mob.
Their fav'rites should not soar so high,
They fail 'em when too near the sky,
Like Icarus's wings;
And popularity is such,
As still is ruin'd by the touch
Of gracious-giving kings.
Here then, O Bath! thy empire ends,
Argylle, with his Tory friends,
Soon better days restore;
For Enoch's fate and thine are one,
Like him translated thou art gone,
Ne'er to be heard of more.
GREAT NUMBER OF GREAT MEN,
SEE, a new progeny descends
From Heaven, of Britain's truest friends:
Oh Muse! attend my call!
To one of these direct thy flight,
Or, to be sure that we are right,
Direct it to them all.
O Clio! these are golden times;
I shall get money for my rhymes;
And thou no more go tatter'd:
Make haste then, lead the way, begin,
For here are people just come in,
Who never yet were flatter'd.
But first to Carteret fain you'd sing ;
Indeed he's nearest to the King,
Yet careless how you use him;
Give him, I beg, no labour'd lays;
He will but promise if you praise,
And laugh if you abuse him.
Then (but there's a vast space betwixt)
The new-made Earl of Bath comes next,
Stiff in his popular pride :
His step, his gait, describe the man ;
They paint him better than I can,
Waddling from side to side.
Each hour a different face he wears,
Now in a fury, now in tears,
Now laughing, now in sorrow;
Now he'll command, and now obey,
Bellows for liberty to-day,
And roars for power to-morrow.
At noon the Tories had him tight,
With staunchest Whigs he supp'd at night,
Each party try'd to 'ave won him ;
But he himself did so divide,
Shuffled and cut from side to side,
That now both parties shun him
See yon old, dull, important Lord,
Who at the long'd-for money-board-
Sits first, but does not lead:
His younger brethren all things make;
So that the Treasury's like a snake,
And the tail moves the head.
Why did you cross God's good intent?
He made you for a President;
Back to that station go:
Nor longer act this farce of power,
We know you miss'd the thing before,
And have not got it now.
See valiant Cobham, valorous Stair,
Britain's two thunderbolts of war,
Now strike my ravish'd eye:
But oh! their strength and spirits flown,
They, like their conqu'ring swords, are grown
Rusty with laying by.
Dear Bat, I'm glad you've got a place,
And since things thus have chaug'd their face,
You'll give opposing o'er :
'Tis comfortable to be in,
And think what a damn'd while you've been, Like Peter at the door.
See who comes next-I kiss thy hands,
But not in flattery, Samuel Sandys;
For since you are in power,
That gives you knowledge, judgment, parts,
The courtier's wiles, the statesman's arts,
Of which you'd none before.
When great impending dangers shook
Its state, old Rome dictators took
Judiciously from plough :
So we, (but a pinch thou knowest)
To make the highest of the lowest,
Th' Exchequer gave to you.
When in your hands the seals you found,
Did they not make your brains go
Did they not turn your head?
I fancy (but you hate a joke)
You felt as Nell did when she woke
In Lady Loverule's bed.
See Harry Vane in pomp appear,
And, since he's made Vice-Treasurer,
Grown taller by some inches:
See Tweedale follow Carteret's call;
See Hanoverian Gower, and all
The black funereal Finches.
|