On Friendship
Written at Fourteen Years Old.
Hail, star of love, hail, offspring of the skies!
That gilds our day, when darken’d storms arise;—
’Tis thou that blunts affliction’s bitter dart,
And turns the wound, averted from the heart.
In all the changes that await mankind,
In all the woes we here are doom’d to find,—
Thy hand, amid a world of care and strife,
Scatters fresh roses o’er the paths of life.
’Tis not the fawning flatt’rer’s ready praise,
Whose word is honey, but whose word betrays.10
For, ah! while happiness yet gilds each hour,
Ere yet adversity’s dark tempests low’r,
Like flies in summer, basking in the ray
Of prosp’rous sunshine, in thy golden day:
Many thy followers, who pollute the name,
With sordid lips, of hallow’d Friendship’s flame:
But if thy sun, by gath’ring clouds o’erspread,
Retract its beams—those followers all are fled,—
Not one remains of that late num’rous horde,19
Who swore thee friendship, round thy genial board.
From scenes like this, with stern indignant eye,
True Friendship wings her rapid flight:—on high
She views the venal slaves of guilt and gold,
Purchas’d by int’rest, and by int’rest sold;
Whom dark Dishonour, by the Stygian shore,
An hideous progeny, to Mammon bore;
Hypocrisy receiv’d them at their birth,
And, nurs’d by her, they issued into earth.
Friendship’s soft pow’r, mild as the vernal gale
That floats at eve o’er Tempè’s peaceful vale;30
Holds her vast rule, unbounded by control,
O’er the wide realms of the capacious soul;
And spurns the limits of the little mind,
To narrow thoughts, and mean ideas confin’d.
For he, alone, can taste her purest streams—
He, he, alone, can feel her warmest beams,
Whose breast ennobled, and whose soul refin’d,
Display the treasures of an heav’n-taught mind;
Enrich’d with every virtue, that can lend
Her pow’rful aid, to form a perfect friend;40
Proud in the pride which dignifies the heart,
That scorns deceit, and spurns each baser art;
In whose high front, and spirit-rousing eye,
Bright honour beams in all her majesty;—
Sublimely humble, virtuously bold,
Unmov’d by flatt’ry, and unbrib’d by gold.
Vot’ries like this, can feel her pow’r sublime,
Begun by virtue, and matur’d by time;—
Vot’ries like this, once reverenced her laws,
And prov’d them worthy of so great a cause.50
Oh! ye twin stars11, who grace the spangled sphere,
When night’s dark shadows o’er the heav’ns appear;
And ye, bright patterns of her sacred reign12,
Who bound the tyrant in her silver chain!
And thou, O Salem’s king13, whose heav’n-taught lyre,
In sacred strains, Jehovah deign’d t’ inspire;
And all ye ancient vot’ries of her name,
Be ye the mighty witness of the same!
Ah! now how changed!—for scarce one ling’ring trace
Proves us descendants of our former race;60
All things degen’rate! e’en the present times
Shall seem ennobled, by our future crimes.
True Friendship, now, appears but as a dream,—
Th’ historian’s subject, or the muse’s theme.
Long might we search, and long might search in vain,
Him, who, to save his friend a moment’s pain,
Would set the world and all its charms, at nought;
And think, e’en life was far too dearly bought.
What venal lips now utter Friendship’s name,
And strive to counterfeit her heav’nly flame;70
How few the souls, o’er whom she deigns to reign;
And, ah! how few would bear her silver chain!
For her swift wing, like Love’s, disdains all ties,
O’er boundless seas and trackless deserts flies;
And scorns those barriers, which th’ ignoble prize.
Oh! thou soft soother of our earthly wo,
Grant, from my heart thy precious streams to flow!
For what is grief, or pain, or cank’ring care,
When ev’ry pang, another seeks to share.
And when our night of sorrow glides away,80
And joy, returning, gilds the opening day;
Ah! what avails it, if no friendly heart
Bears, in that joy, a sympathizing part:—
For, as the laurel, (through the winter’s gloom,
When all her leafy rivals cease to bloom,
And when each drooping tree, by nature bound,
No longer waves its foliage o’er the ground,)
Maintains her verdure unimpair’d, and green,
And shines conspicuous mid the icy scene:
So does true Friendship, in misfortune’s hour,90
When wint’ry storms o’er life’s gay sunshine low’r;—
When false pretenders, base, and servile band,
Chill at the touch of fortune’s alter’d wand;
So does she cheer the solitary scene,
Glows ever-warm, and blossoms ever-green.