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Praise to placeless proud ability, Let the prudent muse disclaim; And sing the Statesman--all civility-- Whom moderate talents raise to fame. He, no random projects urging, Make us wild alarms to feel; With moderate measures, gently purging Ills that prey on Britain's weal.
CHORUS. Gently purging, Gently purging, Gently purging Britain's weal.[1]
Addington, with measured motion, Keep the tenor of thy way; To glory yield no rash devotion, Led by luring lights astray; Splendid talents are deceiving; Tend to councils much too bold; Moderate men we prize, believing, All that glitters is not gold.
GRAND CHORUS. All that Glisters, All that Glisters, All that Glisters is not gold![2]
George Canning
Read poems about / on: believe
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