WONDER not, stranger, coming from the dome
Where Nature in her beauty sits enthroned,
To find that Virtue exiles from her home
Him at whose feet whole nations long have groaned.
Wonder not that the tyrant’s painted mask
Is turn’d against the wall: his generous host
Knew not the traitor.. Fount of Truth! we ask
In fear if such example must be lost
In other palaces, in higher seats,
Whose floor erewhile the smooth barbarian trod,
The heart of Cavendish this verse repeats,
“An honest man’s the noblest work of God.”