In 1710, when the Whig ministry was discarded, and his lordship had an opportunity of distinguishing his own friends, from those which were only the friends of his power, it could not fail of giving him sensible pleasure to find Dr. Garth early declaring for him, and amongst the first who bestowed upon him the tribute of his muse, at a time when that nobleman’s interest sunk:  A situation which would have struck a flatterer dumb.  There were some to whom this testimony of gratitude was by no means pleasing, and therefore the Dr’s. lines were severely criticised by the examiner, a paper engaged in the defence of the new ministry; but instead of sinking the credit either of the author, or the verses, they added to the honour of both, by exciting Mr. Addison to draw his pen in their defence.  In order to form a judgment both of the Criticism, and the Defence, it will be necessary first of all to read the poem to which they refer, more especially as it is very short, and may be supposed to have been written suddenly, and, at least, as much from the author’s gratitude to his noble patron, as a desire of adding to his reputation.

  To the earl of Godolphin.

  While weeping Europe bends beneath her ills,
  And where the sword destroys not, famine kills;
  Our isle enjoys by your successful care,
  The pomp of peace amidst the woes of war. 
  So much the public to your prudence owes,
  You think no labours long, for our repose. 
  Such conduct, such integrity are shewn,
  There are no coffers empty, but your own. 
  From mean dependence, merit you retrieve;
  Unask’d you offer, and unseen you give. 
  Your favour, like the Nile, increase bestows;
  And yet conceals the source from whence it flows. 
  So poiz’d your passions are, we find no frown,
  If funds oppress not, and if commerce run,
  Taxes diminish’d, liberty entire,
  These are the grants your services require. 
  Thus far the State Machine wants no repair,
  But moves in matchless order by your care. 
  Free from confusion, settled, and serene;
  And like the universe by springs unseen.

  But now some star, sinister to our pray’rs;
  Contrives new schemes, and calls you from affairs.

  No anguish in your looks, nor cares appear,
  But how to teach th’ unpractic’d crew to steer. 
  Thus like some victim no constraint; you need,
  To expiate their offence, by whom you bleed. 
  Ingratitude’s a weed in every clime;
  It thrives too fast at first, but fades in time. 
  The god of day, and your own lot’s the same;
  The vapours you have rais’d obscure your flame
  But tho’ you suffer, and awhile retreat,
  Your globe of light looks larger as you set.