But does the court a worthy man remove?
That instant, I declare, he has my love:
I shun his zenith, court his mild decline;
Thus Somers once, and Halifax, were mine.
Oft, in the clear, still mirror of retreat,
I studied Shrewsbury, the wise and great:
Carleton's[209] calm sense, and Stanhope's noble flame, 80
Compared, and knew their generous end the same:
How pleasing Atterbury's softer hour!
How shined the soul, unconquer'd in the Tower!
How can I Pulteney, Chesterfield, forget,
While Roman spirit charms, and Attic wit:
Argyll,[210] the state's whole thunder born to wield,
And shake alike the senate and the field:
Or Wyndham,[211] just to freedom and the throne,
The master of our passions, and his own.
Names, which I long have loved, nor loved in vain, 90
Rank'd with their friends, not number'd with their train:
And if yet higher[212] the proud list should end,
Still let me say,--No follower, but a friend.[213]
Yet think not Friendship only prompts my lays;
I follow Virtue; where she shines, I praise:
Point she to priest or elder, Whig or Tory,
Or round a Quaker's beaver cast a glory.
I never (to my sorrow I declare)
Dined with the Man of Ross, or my Lord Mayor.[214]
Some, in their choice of friends, (nay, look not grave) 100
Have still a secret bias to a knave:
To find an honest man I beat about.
And love him, court him, praise him, in or out.
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