« ForrigeFortsett »
WHAT virtue or what mental grace
And dulnefs of discretion.
If every polished gem we find
Provoke to imitation ;
No wonder friendship does the fame,
Or rather conftellation.
No knave but boldly will pretend
And dream that he had found one.
Candid and generous and juft,
Boys care but little whom they trust,
An error foon corrected
For who but learns in riper years,
That man, when smootheft he appears,
Is most to be fufpected?
But here again a danger lies,
Left, having misapplied our eyes
An acquifition rather rare
No friendship will abide the test,
Or mean felf-love erected;
Who feek a friend, fhould come difpofed
To exhibit in full bloom disclosed
The graces and the beauties,
That form the character he feeks,
Mutual attention is implied,
Our own as much diftorted.
But will fincerity fuffice?
It is indeed above all price,
And muft be made the bafis;
But every virtue of the foul
Muft conftitute the charming whole,
All shining in their places.
A fretful temper will divide
The closest knot that may be tied,
A temper paffionate and fierce
In vain the talkative unite
In hopes of permanent delight-
They drop through mere defire to prate,
How bright foe'er the profpe&t seems,
An envious man, if you fucceed,
As envy pines at good poffeffed,
On good, that feems approaching,
And hates him for encroaching,
Hence authors of illuftrious name,
A man renowned for repartee
Whoever keeps an open ear
A friendship, that in frequent fits
The fparks of difputation,
Moft unavoidably creates
The thought of conflagration.
Some fickle creatures boaft a foul
True as a needle to the pole,
Their humour yet fo various
They manifeft their whole life through
The needle's deviations too,
Their love is fo precarious.