Pilot the shatter'd vessel safe to shore: Nor shalt thou quit, till, anchor'd firm and fast, She rides secure, and mocks the threatening blast! 510 Born in thy house, and in thy service bred, Nursed in thy arms, and at thy table fed, By thy sage counsels to reflection brought, Yet more by pattern than by precept taught, Economy her needful aid shall join To forward and complete thy grand design, And, warm to save, but yet with spirit warm, Shall her own conduct from thy conduct form. Let friends of prodigals say what they will, Spendthrifts at home, abroad are spendthrifts still. 520 In vain have sly and subtle sophists tried Private from public justice to divide; For credit on each other they rely, They live together, and together die, 'Gainst all experience 'tis a rank offence, High treason in the eye of Common-sense, To think a statesman ever can be known To pay our debts, who will not pay his own: But now, though late, now may we hope to see Our debts discharged, our credit fair and free, 530 Since rigid Honesty (fair fall that hour!) Sits at the helm, and Sandwich is in power. With what delight I view thee, wondrous man, With what delight survey thy sterling plan, That plan which all with wonder must behold, And stamp thy age the only age of Gold. Nor rest thy triumphs here--that Discord fled, And sought with grief the hell where she was bred; That Faction, 'gainst her nature forced to yield, Saw her rude rabble scatter'd o'er the field, 540 Saw her best friends a standing jest become, Her fools turn'd speakers, and her wits struck dumb; That our most bitter foes (so much depends On men of name) are turn'd to cordial friends; That our offended friends (such terror flows From men of name) dare not appear our foes; That Credit, gasping in the jaws of Death, And ready to expire with every breath, Grows stronger from disease; that thou hast saved Thy drooping country; that thy name, engraved 550 On plates of brass, defies the rage of Time; Than plates of brass more firm, that sacred rhyme Embalms thy memory, bids thy glories live, And gives thee what the Muse alone can give:-- These heights of Virtue, these rewards of Fame, With thee in common other patriots claim. But, that poor sickly Science, who had laid And droop'd for years beneath Neglect's cold shade, By those who knew her purposely forgot, And made the jest of those who knew her not: 560 Whilst Ignorance in power, and pamper'd pride, 'Clad like a priest, pass'd by on t'other side,' Recover'd from her wretched state, at length Puts on new health, and clothes herself with strength, To thee we owe, and to thy friendly hand Which raised, and gave her to possess the land: This praise, though in a court, and near a throne, This praise is thine, and thine, alas! alone. With what fond rapture did the goddess smile,