"Behold! a man of ancient faith and blood,
Which, soon, beat high for arts, and public good;
Whose glory great, but natural appears,
The genuine growth of services and years;
No sudden exhalation drawn on high,
And fondly gilt by partial majesty:
One bearing greatest toils with greatest ease,
One born to serve us, and yet born to please:
Whom, while our rights in equal scales he lays,
The prince may trust, and yet the people praise;
His genius ardent, yet his judgment clear,
His tongue is flowing, and his heart sincere,
His counsel guides, his temper cheers our isle,
And, smiling, gives three kingdoms cause to smile."
Joy then to Britain, blest with such a son,
To Walpole joy, by whom the prize is won;
Who nobly conscious meets the smiles of fate;
True greatness lies in daring to be great.
Let dastard souls, or affectation, run
To shades, nor wear bright honours fairly won;
Such men prefer, misled by false applause,
The pride of modesty to virtue's cause.
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