Clean runs the thread; if not, 'tis thrown away,
Or kept to tie up Nonsense for a Song ;
Song, fashionably fruitless! fuch as stains
The Fancy, and unhallow'd Paffion fires;
Chiming her Saints to Cytherea's Fane.

Know'ft thou, Lorenzo! what a Friend contains As Bees mixt Nectar draw from fragrant Flow'rs, So Men From FRIENDSHIP Wisdom and Delight? Twins ty'd by Nature, if they part they die. Haft thou no Friend to fet thy mind abroach? Good Senfe will Stagnate: Thoughts shut up want Air, And spoil, like Bales unopen'd to the Sun.

Had Thought been All, sweet Speech had been deny'd; Speech, Thought's Canal! Speech, Thought's Crite

rion too.

Thought, in the Mine, may come forth Gold or Drofs;
When coin'd in Word, we know its real worth.
If Sterling, ftore it for thy future Use;
'Twill buy thee Benefit; perhaps, Renown.
Thought, too, deliver'd, is the more poffeft;
Teaching we learn; and giving we retain
The Births of Intellect; when dumb, forgot,
Speech ventilates our Intellectual fire;
Speech burnishes our Mental Magazine,
Brightens for Ornament, and whets for Ufe:
What Numbers, sheath'd in Erudition, lie
Plung'd to the Hilts in venerable Tomes,
And rusted in; who might have born an Edge,
And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to Speech;
If born bleft heirs of half their Mother's tongue ?
"Tis Thought's exchange, which, like th' alternate Pufh
Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned Scum,
And defecates the Student's ftanding Pool.

In Contemplation is his proud Resource?
Tis poor, as proud, by Converfe unfuftain'd;

B 5

Rude

1

Rude Thought runs wild in Contemplation's Field
Converse, the Menage, breaks it to the Bit.
Of due restraint; and Emulation's Spur
Gives graceful energy, by Rivals aw'd..
'Tis Converse qualifies for Solitude;
As Exercife for Salutary Reft.

By. That untutor'd, Contemplation raves
A Lunar Prince, or famifh'd Beggar dies;
And Nature's Fool by Wisdom's is outdone.

Wisdom, tho' richer than Peruvian Mines,
And sweeter than the fweet Ambrofial Hive,
What is fhe, but the means of Happiness?
That unobtain'd, than Folly more a Fool;.
A melancholy Fool, without her Bells:
Friendship the Means, and Friendship richly gives.
The precious End, which makes our Wisdom wife.
Nature, in Zeal for human Amity,.

Denies, or damps an undivided Joy:

Joy is an Import; Joy is an Exchange ;

Joy flies Monopolifts, It calls for Two:.

Rich fruit ! heav'n-planted! never pluck'd by One..
Needful Auxiliars are our Friends, to give
To focial man true relish of himself:
Full on ourselves descending in a Line
Pleasure's bright Beam, is feeble in delight
Delight intense, is taken by rebound;
Reverberated Pleasures fire the Breast:
Celeftial Happiness, whene'er fhe stoops
To vifit Earth, One fhrine the Goddess finds,
And One alone, to make her fweet amends
For abfent Heav'n,-the Bofom of a Friend;
Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,
Each other's Pillow to repofe divine.
Beware the counterfeit; In Paffion's Flame.
Hearts melt; but melt like Ice, foon harder froze..
True Love strikes root in Reason, Paffion's Foe:

Virtue alone entenders us for Life:

I wrong her much-entenders us for ever.
Of Friendship's fairest fruits the fruit most fair
Is Virtue kindling at a Rival Fire,
And, emulously, rapid in her Race.

O the foft Enmity! Endearing Strife!
This carrys Friendship to her noon-tide Point,
And gives the Rivet of Eternity.

From Friendship which outlives my Former themes, Glorious Survivor of old Time, and Death!

From Friendship, thus, that Flow'r of Heav'nly Seed,
The Wife extract Earth's moft Hyblean Bliss,
Superior Wisdom, crown'd with smiling Joy,
(For Joy, from Friendship born, abounds in Smiles
O Store it in the Soul's moft Golden Cell!

But for whom bloffoms this Elyfian Flower?
Abroad They find, who cherish it at Home.
Lorenzo! pardon what my Love extorts,
An honeft Love, and not afraid to frown.
Tho' choice of Follies faften on the Great,
None clings more obftinate than Fancy, fond
That sacred Friendship is their easy prey ;
Caught by the Wafture of a Golden Lure;
Or Fascination of a high-born Smile.
Their Smiles the Great and the Coquet throw out
For others Hearts; Tenacious of their Own:
And we no less of ours, when fuch the Bait.
Ye fortune's Cofferers ! Ye pow'rs of Wealth!
You do your Rent-rolls most felonious wrong,
By taking our Attachment to yourselves.
Can Gold gain Friendship? Impudence of Hope!!
As well meer Man an Angel might beget.
Love, and Love only, is the Loan for Love.
Lorenzo! Pride reprefs; nor hope to find

A Friend, but what has found a Friend in Thee.

!

All like the Purchase, few the price will pay;
And this makes Friends fuch Miracles below.

What if (fince Daring on fo nice a Theme)
I fhew thee Friendship Delicate, as Dear;
Of tender Violations apt to die?

Referve will wound it; and Distrust destroy.
Deliberate on all things with thy Friend ;
But fince Friends grow not thick on ev'ry Bough,
Nor ev'ry Friend unrotten at the Core;
Firft, on thy Friend delib'rate with Thyself:
Paufe, ponder, fift; not Eager in the Choice,
Nor Jealous of the Chosen : Fixing Fix:
Judge before Friendship, then confide till Death.
Well for thy Friend; but Nobler far for Thee;
How Gallant danger for Earth's Highest prize?
A Friend is worth all hazard we can run.
"Poor is the Friendless Mafter of a World:
"A World in purchase for a Friend is Gain."
So fung He (Angels hear that Angel fing!
Angels from Friendship gather Half their Joy.)
So fung Philander, as his Friend went round
In the rich Ichor, in the gen'rous blood
Of Bacchus, purple God of joyous Wit,
A Brow folute, and ever-laughing Eye:

He drank long Health, and Virtue to his Friend;
His Friend, who warm'd him more, who more infpir'd.
Friendship's the Wine of Life; but Friendship new
(Not fuch was His) is neither Strong, nor Pure.
O! for the bright Complexion, cordial Warmth,
And elevating Spirit of a Friend,

For twenty Summers rip'ning by my

fide;

All Feculence of Falfhood long thrown down;
All Social Virtues rifing in his Soul;

As Crystal clear; and fmiling as they rife!
Here Nectar flows; it sparkles in our fight;

Rich to the Tafte, and genuine from the Heart.

High-flavour'd Bliss for Gods! on Earth how rare ? On Earth how loft? Philander is no more.

Think'ft thou the Theme intoxicates my Song?
Am I too warm? Too warm I cannot be.
I lov'd him much; but now I love him more.
Like Birds, whofe Beauties languish, half conceal'd,
Till mounted on the Wing, their gloffy Plumes
Expanded shine with Azure, Green, and Gold;
How Bleffings brighten as they take their Flight?
His flight Philander took; his Upward Flight,
If ever Soul afcended. Had he dropt,
That Eagle Genius! O had he let fall
One Feather as he flew; I then had wrote
What Friends might flatter; prudent Foes forbear;
Rivals fcarce damn; and Zoilus reprieve.
Yet what I can I muft; It were profane
To quench a Glory lighted at the Skies,
And caft in Shadows his illuftrious Close.
Strange! the Theme most affecting, most fublime,
Momentous moft to Man, fhou'd fleep unfung;
And yet it fleeps, by Genius unawak'd,
Painim or Chriftian; to the Blush of Wit.
Man's highest Triumph! Man's profoundest Fall!
The Death-bed of the Juft! is yet undrawn
By mortal Hand; It merits a Divine:
Angels should paint it, Angels ever There;
There, on a Poft of Honour, and of Joy.

Dare I prefume, then? But Philander bids;
And Glory tempts, and Inclination calls.
Yet am I ftruck; as ftruck the Soul beneath
Aerial Groves impenetrable Gloom;

Or in fome mighty Ruin's folemn fhade;

Or, gazing by pale lamps on highborn Duft,
In Vaults; thin courts of poor Unflatter'd Kings!
Or at the midnight Altar's hallow'd Flame.

It is Religion to proceed: I pause

And