Of head acute and clear next Sugden see;[34] Apt at a jest, and quick in repartee. Cool when assail’d, he often shuns a snare, And leaves his fierce opponent writhing there. In recollection strong, he bears a store Of points determin’d by the Court before; Brings to his aid each well decided case, And fastens Reason on its proper base. Whatee’r the side for which he pleads, be sure-- If best exertions can success secure. Steadfast of heart no insult will he brook,-- The haughty gesture, or disdainful look. With manly pride he speaks in open day Whatever truth or duty bids him say. Still must the muse with honesty avow, Too much conceit at times will swell his brow. “The Book on Powers” often will he cite As something more than mortal’s pen could write, Wherein the Authors notions are to stand For acts of legislation thro’ the land, And all, that wiser men have thought or said, Yield to the phantasies of Sugden’s head. Nor this his only fault, as Sussex shew’d, When on Sir Godfrey all their votes bestow’d, Turn’d from the would-be statesman with disgust, And left him humbled to the very dust; While some gay wag, who at his pride was nettled, Wrote on his back these words “Perused and settled.” Yes, at the moment, while that country’s sword Is girding round it’s half-elected lord, While zealous friends are calling for the car To grace the triumph of the fightless war;-- Hark! from afar the rival chariots roll, And breathless Webster hurries to the poll;-- Delighted yeomen own his juster claim, And vanquish’d Sugden sneaks away in shame. So falls, in mounting to some ruddy peach, A snail, before the tempting prize he reach. So shrinks an urchin with half broken limb From some tall tree he tried in vain to climb.-- But see again the royal edict sent To summon deputies for parliament. The fox once caught will ever fear the trap, And scalded children dread a like mishap. Why gleans not Sugden from experience? he Again must seek that fatal rank, M. P. Fool-hardy mortal, try thy wings before Ambition tempt thee ’mid the clouds to soar. E’en rotten Boroughs from their notice thrust The man whose principles they cannot trust, And treat with scorn the hope of richer pay, Lest he, who promises, should first betray. Not that thy conduct should such censure fix,-- But why from others choose thy politics? For public duties, public care demands An upright conscience, and unshackled hands; No groveling passions should the bosom rule,-- A baffled placeman, or a courtier’s tool. ’Tis true that Virtue oft with gold relents; But be sincere to your constituents. If Whig, be Whig; if Tory, Tory be,-- And season bribes with due consistency. Thus in St. Stephen may you gain a seat,