On to the hall went I, with pace not slow, But swift as lightning, for a long Dutch hoe, With which well arm'd I hasten'd to the spot, To find the viper,—but I found him not; And turning up the leaves, and shrubs around, Found only, that he was not to be found. But still the kittens, sitting as before, Sat watching close the bottom of the door. "I hope," said I, “the villain I would kill Has slipp'd between the door and the door sill; And if I make dispatch, and follow hard, No doubt but I shall find him in the yard;" For long ere now it should have been rehearsed, 'Twas in the garden that I found him first. Even there I found him, there the full-grown cat His head, with velvet paw, did gently pat, As curious as the kittens erst had been To learn what this phenomenon might mean. Fill'd with heroic ardour at the sight, And fearing every moment he would bite, And rob our household of our only cat That was of age to combat with a rat, With outstretch'd hoe I slew him at the door,
And taught him NEVER TO COME there no more.
Amicitia nisi inter bonos esse non potest.
WHAT virtue can we name, or grace,
But men unqualified and base Will boast it their possession? Profusion apes the noble part Of liberality of heart,
And dullness of discretion.
But as the gem of richest cost Is ever counterfeited most, So, always, imitation
Employs the utmost skill she can To counterfeit the faithful man, The friend of long duration.
Some will pronounce me too severe, But long experience speaks me clear; Therefore that censure scorning, I will proceed to mark the shelves On which so many dash themselves, And give the simple warning. Youth, unadmonish'd by a guide, Will trust to any fair outside,- An error soon corrected;
For who but learns with riper years, That man, when smoothest he appears, Is most to be suspected?
But here again a danger lies, Lest, thus deluded by our eyes,
And taking trash for treasure,
We should, when undeceived, conclude Friendship imaginary good,
A mere Utopian pleasure.
An acquisition rather rare Is yet no subject of despair;
Nor should it seem distressful, If either on forbidden ground, Or where it was not to be found, We sought it unsuccessful.
No friendship will abide the test That stands on sordid interest
And mean self-love erected; Nor such as may awhile subsist "Twixt sensualist and sensualist,
For vicious ends connected.
Who hopes a friend, should have a heart Himself well furnish'd for the part,
And ready on occasion
To show the virtue that he seeks; For 'tis an union that bespeaks
A just reciprocation.
A fretful temper will divide The closest knot that may be tied, By ceaseless sharp corrosion:
A temper passionate and fierce May suddenly your joys disperse At one immense explosion.
In vain the talkative unite With hope of permanent delight; The secret just committed
They drop through mere desire to prate, Forgetting its important weight,
And by themselves outwitted.
How bright soe'er the prospect seems,
All thoughts of friendship are but dreams, If chance to creep in ;
An envious man, if you succeed, May prove a dangerous foe indeed,
But not a friend worth keeping.
As envy pines at good possess'd, So jealousy looks forth distress'd,
On good that seems approaching, And if success his steps attend, Discerns a rival in a friend,
And hates him for encroaching.
Hence authors of illustrious name, (Unless belied by common fame,) Are sadly prone to quarrel; To deem the wit a friend displays So much of loss to their own praise, And pluck each other's laurel.
A man renowned for repartee Will seldom scruple to make free With friendship's finest feeling; Will thrust a dagger at your breast, And tell you 'twas a special jest, By way of balm for healing.
Beware of tattlers; keep your ear
Close stopt against the tales they hear,— Fruits of their own invention;
The separation of chief friends
Is what their kindness most intends; Their sport is your dissension,
Friendship that wantonly admits A joco-serious play of wits In brilliant altercation, Is union such as indicates,
Like hand-in-hand insurance plates, Danger of conflagration.
Some fickle creatures boast a soul True as the needle to the pole; Yet shifting, like the weather, The needle's constancy forego For any novelty, and show Its variations rather.
Insensibility makes some Unseasonably deaf and dumb,
When most you need their pity; 'Tis waiting till the tears shall fall From Gog and Magog in Guildhall,— Those playthings of the city.
The great and small but rarely meet On terms of amity complete:
The attempt would scarce be madder, Should any, from the bottom, hope At one huge stride to reach the top Of an erected ladder.
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