The poetical works of George Keate :: :: University of Virginia Library

135

AN ODE TO FRIENDSHIP;

INSCRIBED TO JAMES BRUCE, Esq.

[_]

WRITTEN AT GENEVA IN M.DCC.LVI.

I

E'en let th'Ungrateful, and th'Unkind,
The Faithless Wretch, the Narrow Mind,
Enjoy their selfish Dream:
Far let them wander from my sight,
They ne'er can relish what I write,
When Friendship is my theme.

136

II

'Tis to a Heart like yours, that feels
Each joy its sacred fire reveals,
I consecrate these lines;
Benevolence alone can know
Its influence mild, that social glow
Which ev'ry Sense refines.

III

In Nature's wisdom were we made
Dependent on each other's aid,
Life's pleasures to improve;
Subject to Wants which Pity ask,
Assign'd in turn that noblest task
Of cheering those we love.

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IV

Connected by this mutual tye,
The World becomes one Family,
Doom'd the same Fate to know;
The gen'rous purpose swells the breast,
And he who makes a Brother blest,
Himself is doubly so.—

V

Fairer than any fabled Maid
That breathes beneath poetic shade,
Or sports in Tempe's vale;
Grateful as is th'approach of Spring,
Who wafts each blessing on her wing,
Thrice lovely Friendship hail!

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VI

As Life's uncertain ways we tread,
Circled by Cares, with Dangers spread,
How sweet thy soothing voice!
To guide the morning steps of Youth,
To fix them in the paths of Truth,
And point them Virtue's choice!

VII

Nor less thy succ'ring hand we find
When noon-tide Passions shake the mind,
And give new Evils birth;
Or in the evening gloom of Age,
To calm its Woes, its Pains assuage,
And prop it to the earth!

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VIII

Vain is each gift that Wealth can show'r,
Cheerless and cold Love's myrtle bow'r,
By Thee, bright Nymph, unblest!
Tho' Fortune lavish ev'ry joy,
If Thou art absent, soon they cloy,
Midst Splendor we're distrest.

IX

But, with Thee ev'ry walk is sweet,
The public Haunt, the lone Retreat,
The mountain's rugged sides;
Thy Sun-shine gladdens ev'ry scene,
Plays round the heart with ray serene,
And human pomp derides!

140

X

However humble be the spot
Where Destiny shall fix my lot,
My fig-tree, and my vine,
Would Friendship make my roof her care,
And plant her envy'd blessings there,
I never should repine.

XI

Confiding in a chosen Few,
Calmly Life's bus'ness I'd pursue,
And my good stars commend;
In pity sighing for the Great,
Who 'midst their luxury and state
Scarce find a real Friend.