Politics & government > Poem humbly dedicated to the Right Honourable William Lord Cowper, &c

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It does the Good Depreſs, the Bad Advance,
Hurts by deſign, and Proſits but by chance.

It was not ſo, when to thy Hands were giv'n
Britannia's Seals, that Motion came ſrom Heav'n.
When in one Wiſh the Prince and People join,
The choice is Hallow'd, and the Stamp Divine.

Great Honour on thoſe Seals haſt thou conferr'd;
Seals more-to Thee, than Thou to Them preferr'd.
Thy thymic Hand divided Right from Wrong,
While Judgment flow'd from thy Harmonious Tongues.
And ſtubborn Law made plyant by thy Skill
Did loſe the Legal Art of doing Ill;
Deaf Pow'rs, whoſe Spirit may ſave, but Letter kill.

Nature prpfuſely has oh THEE beſtow'd,
The choiceſt favours to One mortal ſhew'd.
In thee She has United Manly Senſe,
Strong Judgment, Wit, and Charming Eloquence :
A Body caſt in Her exacteſt Mold;
A Temper Juſt as that of Ripend Gold.
Gentle and Eaſy of Acceſs, no leſs
The Widows Tears and Orphans ſighs confeſs,
In Thee ſecure of Refuge and Redreſs.
Renown'd for Juſtice and Impartial Right,
Scarce TITUS-SELF was more Mankind's Delight.

Why then ſhould ſo much Excellence be loſt,
Juſt when that Excellence was wanted moſt ?
Bury that Queſtion, never more to riſe,
Silence is the beſt Answer of the Wiſe.
But tho' We are forbidden to inquire
Into HIGH THINGS, yet ſure we may Admire.

Nor ſhall thy Matchleſs Worth be leſs Rever'd,
Than when in its full Glory it Appear'd:
As Heav'nly Bodies, when Ecclips'd, are more
With Admiration gaz'd at, than before.

LONDON, Printed and ſold by John Morphew near Sta-
                   tioner's-Hiill, 1711.