Classic Poem

TO WHICH THE AUTHOR OF THESE PIECES SENT THE FOLLOWING REPLY
O H factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth
Would mangle still the dead, perverting truth;
What though our " nation's foes" lament the fate,
With generous feeling, of the good and great,
Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the name
Of him whose meed exists in endless fame?
When P ITT expired in plenitude of power,
Though ill success obscured his dying hour,
Pity her dewy wings before him spread,
For noble spirits " war not with the dead:"
His friends, in tears, a last sad requiem gave,
As all his errors slumber'd in the grave
He sunk, an Atlas bending 'neath the weight
Of cares o'erwhelming our conflicting state;
When, lo! a Hercules in Fox appear'd,
Who for a time the ruin'd fabric rear'd.
He, too, is fall'n, who Britain's loss supplied,
With him our fast-reviving hopes have died;
Not one great people only raise his urn,
All Europe's far-extended regions mourn.
" These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
To give the palm where Justice points its due;"
Yet let not canker'd Calumny assail,
Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil.
Fox! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep,
Whose dear remains in honour'd marble sleep;
For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groan,
While friends and foes alike his talents own;
Fox shall in Britain's future annals shine,
Nor e'en to P ITT the patriot's palm resign;
Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask,
For P ITT , and P ITT alone, has dared to ask.