DIALOGUE. II.
15
When black Ambition stains a Publick Cause,
A Monarch's sword when mad Vain-glory draws,
Not Waller's Wreath can hide the Nation's Scar,
Nor Boileau turn the [1]Feather to a Star.
Not so, when diadem'd with Rays divine,
Touch'd with the Flame that breaks from Virtue's Shrine,
Her Priestess Muse, forbids the Good to dye,
And ope's the Temple of Eternity;
There other Trophies deck the truly Brave,
Than such as Anstis casts into the Grave;
Far other Stars than * and * * wear,
And may descend to Mor—ton from Stair:
Such as on [2]Hough's unsully'd Mitre shine,
Or beam, good Digby! from a Heart like thine.
Let Envy howl while Heav'n's whole Chorus sings,
And bark at Honour not confer'd by Kings;
Let Flatt'ry sickening see the Incense rise,
Sweet to the World, and grateful to the Skies:
A Monarch's sword when mad Vain-glory draws,
Not Waller's Wreath can hide the Nation's Scar,
Nor Boileau turn the [1]Feather to a Star.
Not so, when diadem'd with Rays divine,
Touch'd with the Flame that breaks from Virtue's Shrine,
Her Priestess Muse, forbids the Good to dye,
And ope's the Temple of Eternity;
There other Trophies deck the truly Brave,
Than such as Anstis casts into the Grave;
Far other Stars than * and * * wear,
And may descend to Mor—ton from Stair:
Such as on [2]Hough's unsully'd Mitre shine,
Or beam, good Digby! from a Heart like thine.
Let Envy howl while Heav'n's whole Chorus sings,
And bark at Honour not confer'd by Kings;
Let Flatt'ry sickening see the Incense rise,
Sweet to the World, and grateful to the Skies:
Truth