Whoe’er ye are, all hail!—whether the skill Of youthful CANNING guides the ranc’rous quill; With powers mechanic far above his age, Adapts the paragraph and fills the page; 20 Measures the column, mends whate’er’s amiss, Rejects THAT letter, and accepts of THIS; Or HAMMOND,[42] leaving his official toil, O’er this great work consume the midnight oil— Bills, passports, letters, for the Muses quit, And change dull business for amusing wit:— His life of labour at one gasp is o’er, His books forgot—his desk beloved no more! Proceed to prop the Ministerial cause; See consequential MORPETH[43] nods applause; 30 In ev’ry fair one’s ears at balls and plays The gentle GRANVILLE LEVESON[44] whispers praise: Well-judging Patrons, whom such works can please; Great works, well worthy Patrons such as these! Who heard, not raptured, the poetic Sage Who sung of Gallia in a headlong rage, And blandly drew with no uncourtly grace The simple manners of our English race— Extoll’d great DUNCAN, and, supremely brave, Whelm’d BUONAPARTE’S pride beneath the wave? 40 I swear by all the youths that MALMESBURY[45] chose, By ELLIS’[46] sapient prominence of nose, By MORPETH’S gait, important, proud, and big— By LEVESON GOWER’S crop-imitating wig, That, could the pow’rs which in those numbers shine, Could that warm spirit animate my line, Your glorious deeds which humbly I rehearse— Your deeds should live immortal as my verse; And, while they wonder’d whence I caught my flame, Your sons should blush to read their fathers’ shame! 50 Proceed, great men!—your office is not done; Proceed with what you have so well begun: Load FOX (if you by PITT would be preferr’d), With ev’ry guilt that KENYON ever heard— Adult’rer, gamester, drunkard, cheat and knave, A factious demagogue and pension’d slave! Loose, loose your cry—with ire satiric flash: Let all the Opposition feel your lash; And prove them to these hot and partial times, A combination of the worst of crimes! 60 But softer numbers softer subjects fit: In liquid phrases thrill the praise of PITT; Extol in eulogies of candid truth The Virgin Minister—the Heav’n-born Youth; The greatest gift that fate to England gave, Created to support and born to save; Prompt to supply whate’er his country lacks— Skilful to GAG, and knowing how to TAX! With him companions meet in order stand— A firm, compact, and well-appointed band; 70 Skill’d to advance or to retreat, DUNDAS,[47] And bear thick battle on his front of brass; GRENVILLE with pond’rous head, which match’d we find By equal ponderosity behind.——