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| GREAT Earl of Bath, your reign is o’er, | |
| The Tories trust your word no more, | |
| The Whigs no longer fear you; | |
| Your gates are seldom now unbarr’d, | |
| No crowd of coaches fills your yard, | 5 |
| And scarce a soul comes near you. | |
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| Few now aspire to your good graces, | |
| Scarce any sue to you for places, | |
| Or come with their petition, | |
| To tell how well they have deserved, | 10 |
| How long, how steadily they starved | |
| For you, in opposition. | |
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| Expect to see that tribe no more, | |
| Since all mankind perceive that power | |
| Is lodged in other hands: | 15 |
| Sooner to Carteret now they’ll go, | |
| Or even (tho’ that’s excessive low) | |
| To Wilmington or Sandys’. | |
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| With your obedient wife retire, | |
| And sitting silent by the fire, | 20 |
| A sullen tête-à-tête. | |
| Think over all you’ve done or said | |
| And curse the hour that you were made | |
| Unprofitably great. | |
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| With vapours there, and spleen o’ercast, | 25 |
| Reflect on all your actions past | |
| With sorrow and contrition: | |
| And there enjoy the thoughts that rise | |
| From disappointed avarice, | |
| From frustrated ambition. | 30 |
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| There soon you’ll loudly, but in vain, | |
| Of your deserting friends complain, | |
| That visit you no more: | |
| For in this country, ’tis a truth, | |
| As known, as that love follows youth, | 35 |
| That friendship follows power. | |
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| Such is the calm of your retreat? | |
| You thro’ the dregs of life must sweat | |
| Beneath this heavy load; | |
| And I’ll attend you as I’ve done, | 40 |
| Only to help reflection on, | |
| With now and then an ode. | |
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