Thrice has the spring beheld thy faded fame, And the fourth winter rises on thy shame, Since I exulting grasp'd the votive shell, In sounds of triumph all thy praise to tell; Bless'd could my skill through ages make thee shine, And proud to mix my memory with thine. But now the cause that waked my song before, With praise, with triumph, crowns the toil no more. If to the glorious man whose faithful cares, Nor quell'd by malice, nor relax'd by years, 10 Had awed Ambition's wild audacious hate, And dragg'd at length Corruption to her fate; If every tongue its large applauses owed, And well-earn'd laurels every Muse bestow'd; If public Justice urged the high reward, And Freedom smiled on the devoted bard; Say then, to him whose levity or lust Laid all a people's generous hopes in dust; Who taught Ambition firmer heights of power, And saved Corruption at her hopeless hour; 20 Does not each tongue its execrations owe? Shall not each Muse a wreath of shame bestow, And public Justice sanctify th' award, And Freedom's hand protect the impartial bard? Yet long reluctant I forbore thy name, Long watch'd thy virtue like a dying flame, Hung o'er each glimmering spark with anxious eyes, And wish'd and hoped the light again would rise. But since thy guilt still more entire appears, Since no art hides, no supposition clears; 30 Since vengeful Slander now too sinks her blast, And the first rage of party-hate is past; Calm as the judge of truth, at length I come To weigh thy merits, and pronounce thy doom: So may my trust from all reproach be free; And Earth and Time confirm the fair decree.