Distill'd in a spurious Address to the Queen.
How spotless and pure was this paragon shown!
How safe, through its friends, an attack on the Throne,
Their motives were wicked, their actions were base;—
Some wonder'd, no doubt, at so alter'd a case,
Who cannot forget, though 'tis plain that he can,
The favours they heap'd on this dark little man.
From childhood the imp in the Palace was rear'd,
Its bounties his parents, his kindred all shared;
With rapid advancement, too rapid by half,