An ODE to WILLIAM PULTNEY, Esq; Robert Craggs Nugent, Earl Nugent Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T131163 K104099.002 Dodsley, Robert, 1703-1764. A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands. Vol. II. London printed by J. Hughs, for R. and J. Dodsley 1763 [1st ed. 1758] pp. 210-212. 6v.: music; 8⁰.

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An ODE to WILLIAM PULTNEY , Esq ; By the Same . I. REMOTE from liberty and truth , By fortune's crime , my early youth Drank error's poison'd springs . Taught by dark creeds and mystick law , Wrapt up in reverential awe , I bow'd to priests and kings . II . Soon reason dawn'd , with troubled sight I caught the glimpse of painful light , Afflicted and afraid . Too weak it shone to mark my way , Enough to tempt my steps to stray Along the dubious shade . III . Restless I roam'd , when from afar Lo HOOKER shines ! the friendly star Sends forth a steady ray . Thus cheer'd , and eager to pursue , I mount , till glorious to my view , LOCKE spreads the realms of day . IV . Now warm'd with noble SIDNEY'S page , I pant with all the patriot's rage ; Now wrapt in PLATO'S dream , With MORE and HARRINGTON around I tread fair Freedom's magick ground , And trace the flatt'ring scheme . V. But soon the beauteous vision flies ; And hideous spectres now arise , Corruption's direful train : The partial judge perverting laws , The priest forsaking virtue's cause , And senates slaves to gain . VI . Vainly the pious artist's toil Would rear to heaven a mortal pile , On some immortal plan ; Within a sure , tho' varying date , Confin'd alas ! is every state Of empire and of man . VII . What tho' the good , the brave , the wise , With adverse force undaunted rise , To break th' eternal doom ! Tho' CATO liv'd , tho' TULLY spoke , Tho' BRUTUS dealt the godlike stroke , Yet perish'd fated ROME . VIII . To swell some future tyrant's pride , Good FLEURY pours the golden tide On Gallia's smiling shores ; Once more her fields shall thirst in vain For wholsome streams of honest gain , While rapine wastes her stores . IX . Yet glorious is the great design , And such , O PULTNEY ! such is thine , To prop a nation's frame . If crush'd beneath the sacred weight , The ruins of a falling state Shall tell the patriot's name .