O thou! lamented Sage! whose prescient scan
Pierc’d through foul Anarchy’s gigantic plan,
Prompt to incredulous hearers to disclose
The guilt of France, and Europe’s world of woes;—
Thou, on whose name each distant age shall gaze,
The mighty sea-mark of these troubled days!
O large of soul, of genius unconfin’d,
Born to delight, instruct, and mend mankind!
Burke! in whose breast a Roman ardour glow’d;
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