Now you, ye loyal, fix on them the fault,
If memory to my name no trophies raise
Where in the ample page, with zeal unbought,
The pen historic gives the meed of praise.
Can golden box,[18] though worth a hundred pounds,
Back to poor Burdett bring his forfeit fame?
Can honour’s voice now on his side be found,
Or flattery shield him from contempt and shame?
The boast of popularity’s short hour,
And all that faction gains by means most base,