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With that light talk; but foon, to please her
To charm his ear, whose eye is on the heart; . Whose frown can disappoint the proudest strain,
Whose approbation-profper even mine.
DEAR JOSEPH---five and twenty years ago
Whence comes it then, that in the wane of life, Though nothing have occurr’d to kindle strife,
We find the friends we fancied we had won, Though num'rous once, reduc'd to few or none? Can gold grow worthless that has stood the touch ? No : Gold they seem’d, but they were never such.
Horatio's servant once, with bow and cringe, Swinging the parlour door upon its hinge, Dreading a negative, and overaw’d Lest he should trespass, begg’d to go abroad. Go, fellow !-whither ?-turning short aboutNay. Stay at home ;---you're always going out. 'Tis but a step, Sir, just at the street's endFor what ? An please you, Sir, to see a friend. A friend ? Horatio cried, and seem'd to startYea marry shalt thou, and with all my heart, And fetch my cloak, for though the night be raw I'll see him too-the first I ever saw.
I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, And was his play-thing often when a child ; But somewhat at that moment pinch'd him close, Else he was seldom bitter or morale : Perhaps, his confidence just then betray'd, His grief might prompt him with the speech he
made; Perhaps 'twas mere good-humour gave it birth, The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth. Howe'er it was, his language, in my mind, Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind.
· But not to moralize too much, and strain
Oh happy Britain ! we have not to fear
blow, Might traverse England safely to and fro, . An honest man, close-button'd to the chin, Broad-cloth without, and a warm heart within.