20 The great and small but rarely meet
On terms of amity complete;
Plebeians must surrender,
And yield so much to noble folk,
It is combining fire with smoke,
Obscurity with splendour.
21 Some are so placid and serene
(As Irish bogs are always green),
They sleep secure from waking;
And are indeed a bog, that bears
Your unparticipated cares
Unmoved and without quaking.
22 Courtier and patriot cannot mix
Their heterogeneous politics
Without an effervescence,
Like that of salts with lemon juice,
Which does not yet like that produce
A friendly coalescence.
23 Religion should extinguish strife, And make a calm of human life;
But friends that chance to differ
On points which God has left at large,
How freely will they meet and charge!
No combatants are stiffer.
24 To prove at last my main intent
Needs no expense of argument,
No cutting and contriving-
Seeking a real friend, we seem
To adopt the chemist's golden dream,
With still less hope of thriving.
25 Sometimes the fault is all our own,
Some blemish in due time made known
By trespass or omission;
Sometimes occasion brings to light
Our friend's defect, long hid from sight,
And even from suspicion.
26 Then judge yourself, and prove your man As circumspectly as you can,
And, having made election,
Beware no negligence of yours,
Such as a friend but ill endures,
Enfeeble his affection.
27 That secrets are a sacred trust,
That friends should be sincere and just,
That constancy befits them-
Are observations on the case,
That savour much of commonplace,
And all the world admits them.
28 But 'tis not timber, lead, and stone,
An architect requires alone
To finish a fine building
The palace were but half complete,
If he could possibly forget
The carving and the gilding.
29 The man that hails you Tom or Jack, And proves by thumps upon your back How he esteems your merit,
Is such a friend, that one had need
Be very much his friend indeed
To pardon or to bear it.
30 As similarity of mind.
Or something not to be defined,
First fixes our attention;
So manners decent and polite,
The same we practised at first sight,
Must save it from declension.
31 Some act upon this prudent plan,
Say little, and hear all you can ;”
Safe policy, but hateful—
So barren sands imbibe the shower,
But render neither fruit nor flower,
Unpleasant and ungrateful.
32 The man I trust, if shy to me,
Shall find me as reserved as he,
No subterfuge or pleading
Shall win my confidence again;
I will by no means entertain
A spy on my proceeding.
33 These samples-for, alas! at last
These are but samples, and a taste
Of evils yet unmention'd—
May prove the task a task indeed,
In which 'tis much if we succeed,
However well intention'd.
34 Pursue the search, and you will find Good sense and knowledge of mankind To be at least expedient,
And, after summing all the rest,
Religion ruling in the breast
A principal ingredient.
35 The noblest Friendship ever shown
The Saviour's history makes known,
Though some have turn'd and turn'd it;
And, whether being crazed or blind,
Or seeking with a biass'd mind,
Have not, it seems, discern'd it.
36 O Friendship! if my soul forego
Thy dear delights while here below,
To mortify and grieve me,
May I myself at last appear
Unworthy, base, and insincere,
Or may my friend deceive me!
WHICH THE OWNER OF HIM SOLD AT THE AUTHOR'S INSTANCE.
1 Go! thou art all unfit to share
The pleasures of this place,
With such as its old tenants are,
Creatures of gentler race.
2 The squirrel here his hoard provides,
Aware of wintry storms;
And woodpeckers explore the sides
Of rugged oaks for worms.
3 The sheep here smooths the knotted thorn With frictions of her fleece;
And here I wander eve and morn,
Like her, a friend to peace.
4 Ah!-I could pity thee exiled
From this secure retreat-
I would not lose it to be styled
The happiest of the great.
5 But thou canst taste no calm delight;
Thy pleasure is to show
Thy magnanimity in fight,
Thy prowess-therefore, go!
6 I care not whether east or north,
So I no more may find thee;
The angry Muse thus sings thee forth,
And claps the gate behind thee.
WRITTEN IN COMMEMORATION OF HIS MAJESTY'S HAPPY
I RANSACK'D for a theme of song,
Much ancient chronicle, and long;
I read of bright embattled fields,
Of trophied helmets, spears, and shields,
Of chiefs, whose single arm could boast
Prowess to dissipate a host;
Through tomes of fable and of dream
I sought an eligible theme,
But none I found, or found them shared
Already by some happier bard.
To modern times, with truth to guide
My busy search, I next applied;
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