Nor ſhall weak prejudice debauch our Pen,
To flatter proſp'rous Fate, and guild the Crimes of Men
But undiſtinguiſh'd Virtue we'll rehearſe,
For partial Praiſes are below our Verſe.
Curſt be that Party-ſpleen that ſhuts Men's Eyes,
From the juſt Merits of their Enemies;
That prepoſſeſſ'd by Feud, denies Applauſe,
And dares not praiſe the Man without the Cauſe.
Where Honour claims it, Honour will be juſt,
And where Mens Actions praiſe 'em, all Men muſt.
Gordon, by Family and Fortune's great,
Tho' loſt in Solitude and long Retreat,
Shall riſe in Honour, as He's great in Mind,
Brave as the Roman, as the Chriſtian kind,
A Gen'rous Enemy, a Faithful Friend.
Faction's below him, if he does diſlike,
He always dares to ſhow his Face, and ſtrike;
Treaſon's a Stab ith' dark, that Man that's brave,
May ſhow the En'my, cannot ſhow the Knave.
The Hamiltons of old ally'd to Fame,
Illuſtrious in Blood, and more in Name;
In ancient Wars e're other Lines begun,
