Such is the liberal JUSTICE which presides In these our days, and modern patriots guides;— JUSTICE, whose blood-stain’d book one sole decree, 170 One statute, fills—“the People shall be Free!” Free! By what means?—by folly, madness, guilt, By boundless rapines, blood in oceans spilt; By confiscation, in whose sweeping toils The poor man’s pittance with the rich man’s spoils, Mix’d in one common mass, are swept away, To glut the short-lived tyrant of the day;— By laws, religion, morals, all o’erthrown:— Rouse, then, ye sovereign people, claim your own: The license that enthrals, the truth that blinds, 180 The wealth that starves you, and the power that grinds! So JUSTICE bids.—’Twas her enlighten’d doom, Louis, thy holy head devoted to the tomb! ’Twas JUSTICE claim’d, in that accurséd hour, The fatal forfeit of too lenient power. Mourn for the Man we may;—but for the King,— Freedom, oh! Freedom’s such a charming thing! “Much may be said on both sides.”—Hark! I hear A well-known voice that murmurs in my ear,— The voice of CANDOUR.—Hail! most solemn sage, 190 Thou drivelling virtue of this moral age, CANDOUR, which softens party’s headlong rage. CANDOUR,—which spares its foes;—nor e’er descends With bigot zeal to combat for its friends. CANDOUR,—which loves in see-saw strain to tell Of _acting foolishly_, but _meaning well_; Too nice to praise by wholesale, or to blame, Convinced that _all_ men’s _motives_ are the same; And finds, with keen discriminating sight, BLACK’S not _so_ black;—nor WHITE _so very_ white. 200 “FOX, to be sure, was vehement and wrong: But then, PITT’S words, you’ll own, were _rather_ strong. Both must be blamed, both pardon’d; ’twas just so With FOX and PITT full forty years ago! So WALPOLE, PULTENEY;—factions in all times Have had their follies, ministers their crimes.” Give me th’ avow’d, th’ erect, the manly foe, Bold I can meet—perhaps may turn his blow; But of all plagues, good Heav’n, thy wrath can send, Save, save, oh! save me from the _Candid Friend_! 210 “BARRAS loves plunder, MERLIN takes a bribe,— What then!—shall CANDOUR these good men proscribe? No! ere we join the loud-accusing throng, Prove,—not the facts,—but, that _they thought them wrong_. “Why hang O’QUIGLEY?—he, misguided man, In sober thought his country’s weal _might_ plan: And, while his deep-wrought Treason sapp’d the throne, _Might_ act from _taste in morals_, all his own.” Peace to such Reasoners! let them have their way; Shut their dull eyes against the blaze of day; 220 PRIESTLEY’S a Saint, and STONE a Patriot still; And LA FAYETTE a Hero, if they will.