Joy is an Import; Joy is an Exchange;
Joy flies Monopolifts: It calls for Two ;
Rich Fruit! heav'n-planted! never pluckt by One
Needful Auxiliars are our Friends, to give
To focial Man true Relish of himself.
Full on ourselves defcending in a Line
Pleafure's bright Beam, is feeble in Delight:
Delight intenfe, is taken by Rebound;
Reverberated Pleafures fire the Breaft.

Celestial Happiness, whene'er fhe ftoops
To vifit Earth, One Shrine 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 foft,
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 ftrikes Root in Reafon; Paffion's Foe:
Virtue alone entenders us for Life:

I wrong her much-entenders us for ever.
Of Friendship's faireft 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 carries 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 Blifs,
Superior Wisdom, crown'd with smiling Joy;
For Joy, from Friendship born, abounds in Smiles.
O ftore 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 honest Love, and not afraid to frown.
C 5

Tho'

Tho' Choice of Follies faften on the Great,
None clings more obftinate, than Fancy fond,
That facred Friendship is their eafy 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 moft felonious Wrong,
By taking our Attachment to Yourselves.
Can Gold gain Friendship? Impudence of Hope!
As well mere 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 Purchafe ; 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 Diftruft, 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 Chofen; 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.
#6 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 fung PHILANDER, as his Friend went round

In

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 ripening by my Side;
All Feculence of Falfhood long thrown down;
All focial Virtues rifing in his Soul;

As Crystal clear; and fmiling, as they rife!
Here Nectar flows; it sparkles in our Sight;
Rich to the Tafte, and genuine from the Heart.
High-flavour'd Blifs 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 fhine 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 sublime,
Momentous moft to Man, fhould 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!

C 6

The

The Death-bed of the Juft! is yet undrawn
By mortal Hand: It merits a Divine :
Angels fhould 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
Aëreal Groves impenetrable Gloom;
Or, in fome mighty Ruin's folemn Shade;
Or, gazing by pale Lamps on high-born 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 paufe

And, enter, aw'd the Temple of my Theme.
Is it his Death-bed? No; It is his Shrine;
Behold him, there, just rifing to a God.

The Chamber where the Good Man meets his Fate, Is privileg'd beyond the common Walk

Of virtuous Life, quite in the Verge of Heav'n.
Fly, ye
Profane! If not, draw near with Awe,
Receive the Bleffing, and adore the Chance,
'That threw in this Bethesda your Disease;
If unreftor'd by This, defpair your Cure.
For, Here, refiftlefs Demonstration dwells
A Death-bed's a Detector of the Heart.
Here tir'd Diffimulation drops her Masque,
Thro' Life's Grimace, that Miftrefs of the Scene!
Here Real, and Apparent, are the Same.

You fee the Man; you fee his Hold on Heav'n;

If found his Virtue; as PHILANDER's, found.

Heav'n waits not the laft Moment; owns her Friends
On this Side Death; and points them out to Men,
A Lecture, filent, but of fov'reign Pow'r!
To Vice, Confufion; and to Virtue, Peace,

Whatever Farce the boaftful Hero plays, Virtue alone has Majefty in Death

And

And greater still, the more the Tyrant frowns. PHILANDER! he severely frown'd on Thee. "No Warning giv'n! Unceremonious Fate! "A fudden Rufh from Life's meridian Joys! "A Wrench from all we love! from all we are! "A reftlefs Bed of Pain! a Plunge opaque "Beyond Conjecture! Feeble Nature's Dread! "Strong Reafon's Shudder at the dark Unknown! "A Sun extinguifht! a juft opening Grave! "And Oh! the laft, laft; what? (can Words exprefs? Thought reach ?) the last, laft-Silence of a Friend!” Where are thofe Horrors, that Amazement, where, This hideous Group of Ills, which fingly fhock, Demand from Man?-I thought him Man till now.

Thro' Nature's Wreck, thro' vanquifht Agonies,
(Like the Stars ftruggling thro' this Midnight Gloom)
What Gleams of Joy? what more than Human Peace?
Where, the frail Mortal? the poor abject Worm ?
No, not in Death, the Mortal to be found.
His Conduct is a Legacy for All.
Richer than Mammon's for his fingle Heir.
His Comforters He Comforts; Great in Ruin,
With unreluctant Grandeur, gives, not yields
His Soul Sublime; and clofes with his Fate.

How our Hearts burnt within us at the Scene!
Whence, This brave Bound o'er Limits fixt to Man?
His God fuftains him in his final Hour!
His final Hour brings Glory to his God!

Man's Glory Heav'n vouchfafes to call her own.
We gaze; we weep; mixt Tears of Grief and Joy!
Amazement ftrikes! Devotion burfts to Flame!
Chriftians Adore! and Infidels Believe.

As fome tall Tow'r, or lofty Mountain's Brow, Detains the Sun, Illuftrious from its Height; While rifing Vapours, and defcending Shades, With Damps, and Darkness, drown the spacious Vale:

Undamp