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Song by Mr Canning on Mr Pitt If hush'd the loud whirlwind that ruffled the deep, The sky, if no longer dark tempests deform; When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep? No, here's to the [[underline]] pilot [[/underline]] that weather'd the storm. At the footstool of power let flattery fawn, Let faction her Idols extol to the skies; To Virtue in humble retirement withdrawn, Unblam'd may [[underline]] the accents [[/underline]] of gratitude rise. And shall not [[underline]] his [[/underline]] memory to Britain be dear Whose example with [[deletion]] nations [[/deletion]] [[addition]] envy [[/addition]] all [[deletion]] envy [[/deletion]] [[addition]] nations [[/addition]] behold A statesman unbiass'd by int'rest or fear By Power [[underline]] uncorrupted, [[/underline]] untainted by gold.
