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Clean runs the thread ; if not, 'tis thrown away,
Or kept to tie up Nonsense for a Song ;
Song, fashionably fruitless ! such as stains
The Fancy, and unhallow'd Pasion fires ;
Chiming her Saints to Cytherea's Fane.
Know'st thou, Lorenzo! what a Friend contains !
As Bees mixt Nectar draw from fragrant Flow'rs,
So Men From FRIENDSHIP Wisdom and Delight?
Twins tyd by Nature, if they part they die.
Hast thou no Friend to set thy mind abroach ?
Good Sense 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-
Thought, in the Mine, may come forth Gold or Dross;
When coin'd in Word, we know its real worth,
If Sterling, store 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 Intelle&tual fire;
Speech burnishes our Mental Magazine,
Brightens for Ornament, and whets for Use :
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 blest heirs of half their Mother's tongue ?
'Tis Thought's exchange, which, like th'alternate Push
Of waves confli&ting, breaks the learned Scum,
And defecates the Student's standing Pool.
In Contemplation is his proud Resource ?
"Tis poor, as proud, by Converse unsustain'd ;
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 Exercise for Salutary Reft.
By That untutor'd, Contemplation raves
A Lunar Prince, or famish'd. Be gar dies;
And Nature's Fool by Wisdom's is outdone.
Wisdom, tho' richer than Peruvian Minesą.
And sweeter than the sweet Ambrosial Hive,
What is she, 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 wise..
Nature, in Zeal før human Amity,,
Denies, or damps an undivided Joy:
Joy is an Import ; Joy is an Exchange ;
Joy flies Monopolists, It calls for Two:
Rich fruit !' heav'n-planted! never pluck'd by One..
Needful Auxiliars are our Friends, to give
To social man true relish of himself:
Full on ourselves descending in a Line
Pleasure's bright Beam, is feeble in delight i
Delight intense, is taken by rebound;
Reverberated Pleasures fire the Breast.
Celestial Happiness, whene'er she ftoops
To visit Earth, One shrine the Goddess finds
And One alone, to make her sweet amends
For absent Heav'n,-the Bosom of a Friend';
Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,
Each other's Pillow to repose divine.
Beware the counterfeit ; In Paffion's Flame.
Hearts, melt ; but melt like Ice, soon harder frozez.
True Love strikes root in Reafon, Pallion's Foe:
Virtue alone entenders us for Life:
her much-entenders us for ever.
Of Friendship's fairest fruits the fruit moft fair
Is Virtue kindling at a Rival Fire,
And, emulously, rapid in her Race.
O the soft 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 Wise extract Earth's most Hyblean Bliss,
Superior Wisdom, crown'd with smiling Joy,
(For Joy, from Friendship born, abounds in Smilest
O Store it in the Soul's most Golden Cell!
But for whom blossoms this Elysian Flower ?
Abroad They find, who cherish it at Home.
Lorenzo ! pardon what my Love extorts,
An honest 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 such 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 repress; 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 such Miracles below.
What if (since Daring on so nice a Theme)
I shew thee Friendship Delicate, as Dear ;
Of tender Violations apt to die?
Reserve will wound it ; and Distrujt 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;
First, on thy Friend delib'rate with Thyself:
Pause, 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 Master 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 sung 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 side;
All Feculence of Fallhood long thrown down ;
All Social Virtues rising in his Soul ;
As Crystal clear; and smiling as they rise !
Here Nectar flows; it sparkles in our sight;
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'st 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, whose Beauties languish, half conceal'd,
Till mounted on the Wing, their glossy Plumes
Expanded shine with Azure, Green, and Gold;
How Blessings brighten as they take their Flight?
His flight Philander took; his Upward Flight,
If ever Soul ascended : 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 scarce damn ; and Zoilus reprieve.
Yet what I can I must; It were profane
To quench a Glory lighted at the Skies,
And cast in Shadows his illustrious Close.
Strange! the Theme most affecting, moft fublime,
Momentous most to Man, shou'd sleep unsung ;
And yet it sleeps, by Genius unawak'd,
Painim or Chriftian ; to the Blush of Wit.
Man's highest Triumph! Man's profoundeft Fall!
The Death-bed of the Just! 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 presume, then ? But Philander bids ;
And Glory tempts, and Inclination calls---
Yet am I ftruck; as struck the Soul beneath
Aerial Groves impenetrable Gloom ;
Or in some mighty Ruin's solemn shade;
Or, gazing by pale lamps on highborn Dust,
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