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A Modern-Coward Principle, design'd
To stifle Justice, and unnerve the Mind.
A Trick by Knaves contriv'd, impos'd on Fools,
But Scorn'd by Patriot and Exalted Souls.
For Mod'rate Statesmen, like Camelions, wear
A diff'rent Form in ev'ry diff'rent Air.
They stick at nothing to Secure their Ends,
Caress their Enemies, betray their Friends.
Their Medley Temper, their Amphibious Mind
Is fraught with Principles of ev'ry kind;
Nor ever can from Stain and Error free,
Assert its Native Truth, and Energy.
As the four Elements so blended were
In their first Chaos, so united there,
That since they ne'er could fully be disjoyn'd,
Each retains something of each other's Kind;
Nor
