Could those few pleasant days again appear, I would not trust my heart-the dear delight Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast, (The storms all weather'd and the ocean cross'd) Shoots into port at some well-haven'd isle, Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay; So thou, with sails how swift! hast reach'd the shore, "Where tempests never beat nor billows roar; And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchor'd by thy side. But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest, Always from port withheld, always distress'dMe howling blasts drive devious, tempest-toss'd, Sails ripp'd, seams opening wide, and compass lost, And day by day some current's thwarting force Sets me more distant from a prosperous course. Yet O the thought, that thou art safe, and he! That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth; 1 Garth. But higher far my proud pretensions rise— And, while the wings of fancy still are free, FRIENDSHIP. WHAT virtue, or what mental grace, But men unqualified and base And dulness of discretion. If every polish'd gem we find Provoke to imitation; No wonder friendship does the same, Or rather constellation. No knave but boldly will pretend And dream that he had found one. Candid, and generous, and just, Boys care but little whom they trust, For who but learns in riper years But here again a danger lies, Lest, having misapplied our eyes, And taken trash for treasure, An acquisition rather rare No friendship will abide the test Nor such as may awhile subsist For vicious ends connected. Who seek a friend should come disposed Mutual attention is implied, 'Tis senseless arrogance to accuse Our own as much distorted. But will sincerity suffice? It is indeed above all price, And must be made the basis; But every virtue of the soul Must constitute the charming whole, A fretful temper will divide A temper passionate and fierce In vain the talkative unite In hopes of permanent delight- They drop through mere desire to prate, How bright soe'er the prospect seems, An envious man, if you succeed, As envy pines at good possess'd, On good that seems approaching; And hates him for encroaching. Hence authors of illustrious name, A man renown'd for repartee |