When Favour's golden hook is baited, How swiftly patriot-zeal relaxes; In silent state see WORDSWORTH seated, Commissioner of Stamps and Taxes.
WORDSWORTH, most artless among Bards, Who talk'd of MILTON and of Freedom, Scorn'd service purchas'd by rewards, And pitied those who chanced to need 'em.
Since poets are but men, 'tis said The question may be well disputed, If they can eat Corruption's bread, And still continue unpolluted.
With dangerous friends, and dangerous foes, O whither, wither do we tend us! May Heaven in mercy interpose, And from the shafts of both defend us.
