 | Miscellanies in Prose and Verse |  |
An Answer to the TEST.
The rule your candour recommends,
To judge, from facts alone, of friends;
The public, whom you late address'd,
Ackowledges th' unerring Test.
Your question fairly it discuss'd,
And soon pronounc'd your reas'ning just.
The people now on facts depend;
By facts they try'd, and found their friend;
Their benefactor great and good,
Who in the gap of ruin stood,
When rapid, like an inundation,
'Twas bursting to o'erwhelm the nation;
Who propt their credit, quite decay'd,
Supply'd the sinews of their trade;
The treasures, for the state amass'd,
Like “bread upon the waters cast,”
And, by the gracious well-tim'd grant,
Prevented bankruptcy and want;
Public calamities, more dire
Than ravages by sword and fire.
To judge, from facts alone, of friends;
The public, whom you late address'd,
Ackowledges th' unerring Test.
Your question fairly it discuss'd,
And soon pronounc'd your reas'ning just.
The people now on facts depend;
By facts they try'd, and found their friend;
43
Who in the gap of ruin stood,
When rapid, like an inundation,
'Twas bursting to o'erwhelm the nation;
Who propt their credit, quite decay'd,
Supply'd the sinews of their trade;
The treasures, for the state amass'd,
Like “bread upon the waters cast,”
And, by the gracious well-tim'd grant,
Prevented bankruptcy and want;
Public calamities, more dire
Than ravages by sword and fire.
All this is known—'tis felt at heart,
Self-sprung, and uninstill'd by art.
Hence then, delusion, envy, lies,
We're all resolv'd to use our eyes;
Let truth and gratitude prevail,
And DORSET, Ireland's friend, all hail.
Self-sprung, and uninstill'd by art.
Hence then, delusion, envy, lies,
We're all resolv'd to use our eyes;
Let truth and gratitude prevail,
And DORSET, Ireland's friend, all hail.
They have prevail'd—the nation round,
The grateful acclamations sound;
All ranks of men, and parties now,
The truth a while deny'd, allow.
Lords, commons, traders, high and low,
Such crowds their strong affections show,
That shou'd your heathen goddess Fame,
Attempt to reckon every name,
'Twou'd only prove her strength of lungs,
And tire, at last, her hundred tongues.
The grateful acclamations sound;
44
The truth a while deny'd, allow.
Lords, commons, traders, high and low,
Such crowds their strong affections show,
That shou'd your heathen goddess Fame,
Attempt to reckon every name,
'Twou'd only prove her strength of lungs,
And tire, at last, her hundred tongues.
| Miscellanies in Prose and Verse | |