To prove at last my main intent Needs no expense of argument, No cutting and contriving- Seeking a real friend we seem T'adopt the chemist's golden dream, With still less hope of thriving. Sometimes the fault is all our own, Some blemish in due time made known By trespass or omission; Sometimes occasion brings to light Our friend's defect long hid from sight, And even from suspicion.
Then judge yourself, and prove your man As circumspectly as you can,
And, having made election, Beware no negligence of yours, Such as a friend but ill endures, Enfeeble his affection.
That secrets are a sacred trust, That friends should be sincere and just, That constancy befits them, Are observations on the case, That savour much of common-place, And all the world admits them.
But 'tis not timber, lead, and stone, An architect requires alone,
To finish a fine building- The palace were but half complete,
If he could possibly forget
The carving and the gilding.
The man that hails you Tom or Jack And proves by thumps upon your back How he esteems your merit,
Is such a friend, that one had need Be very much his friend indeed,
To pardon or to bear it.
As similarity of mind,
Or something not to be defin'd. First fixes our attention: So manners decent and polite, The same we practis'd at first sight, Must save it from declension.
Some act upon this prudent plan, "Say little, and hear all you can.'
Safe policy, but hateful
So barren sands imbibe the show'r, But render neither fruit nor flow'r Unpleasant and ungrateful.
The man I trust, if shy to me, Shall find me as reserv'd as he, No subterfuge or pleading Shall win my confidence again— I will by no means entertain A spy on my proceeding. These samples-for alas! at last These are but samples, and a taste Of evils yet unmention'd- May prove the task a task indeed, In which 'tis much if we succeed, However well intention'd.
Pursue the search, and you will find Good sense and knowledge of mankind To be at least expedient, And, after summing all the rest, Religion ruling in the breast
A principal ingredient.
The noblest Friendship ever shown The Saviour's history makes known, Though some have turn'd and turn'd it; And whether being craz d or blind, Or seeing with a biass'd mind,
Have not, it seems, discern'd it
O Friendship! if my soul forego
Thy dear delights while here below
To mortify and grieve me, May I myself at last appear Unworthy, base, and insincere, Or may my friend deceive me!
A HERMIT, (or if 'chance you hold That title now too trite and old,) A man, once young, who liv'd retir'd As hermit could have well desir'd, His hours of study clos'd at last, And finsh'd his concise repast, Stoppled his cruise, replac'd his book Within his customary nook,
And, staff in hand, set forth to share The sober cordial of sweet air, Like Isaac, with a mind applied To serious thought at ev`ning tide. Autunnal rains had made it chill, And from the trees that fring'd his nill, Shades slanting at the close of day Chill'd more his else delightful way, Distant a little mile he spied A western bank's still sunny side, And right toward the favour'd place Proceeding with his nimblest pace, In hope to bask a little yet,
Just reach'd it when the sun was set
Your hermit, young and jovial sirs! Learns something from whate'er occurs― And hence, he said, my mind computes The real worth of man's pursuits His object chosen, wealth, or fame, Or other sublunary game, Imagination to his view
Presents it deck'd with ev'ry hue That can seduce him not to spare His pow'rs of best excrtion there, But youth, health, vigour, to expend On so desirable an end.
Ere long approach life's ev'ning shades, The glow that fancy gave it fades; And, earn'd too late, it wants the grace That first engag'd him in the chase.
True, answer'd an angelick guide, Attendant at the senior's side- But whether all the time it cost, To urge the fruitless chase be lost, Must be decided by the worth
Of that which call'd his ardour forth. Trifles pursu'd, whate'er th' event, Must cause him shame or discontent: A vicious object still is worse, Successful there he wins a curse. But he, whom e'en in life's last stage Endeavours laudable engage,
Is paid, at least in peace of mind, And sense of having well design'd; And if, ere he attain his end, His sun precipitate descend, A brighter prize than that he meant Shall recompense his mere intent. No virtuous wish can bear a date Either too early or too late
ADDRESSED TO MISS STAPLETON, (NOW MRS. COURTNEY.)
SHE came-she is gone-we have metAnd meet perhaps never again;
The sun of that moment is set,
And seems to have risen in vain Catharina has fled like a dream(So vanishes pleasure, alas!) But has left a regret and esteem, That will not so suddenly pass.
The last ev'ning ramble we made, Catharina, Maria, and I, Our progress was often delay'd
By the nightingale warbling nigh.
We paus'd under many a tree,
And much she was charm'd with a tone
Less sweet to Maria and me,
Who so lately had witness'd her own.
My numbers that day she had sung, And gave them a grace so divine, As only her musical tongue
Could infuse into numbers of mine.
The longer I heard, I esteem'd
The work of my fancy the more,
And e'er to myself never seem'd So tuneful a poet before.
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