 | Poems |  |
183
TO MISS F---R
When I think, my dear F---R, how rarely we find
For friendship all proper endowments of mind;
When I see, with what groveling prospects in view,
Human creatures self-interest, unceasing, pursue;
A friend, bosom friend, as belov'd as sincere,
Must ever the greatest of wonders appear!
But of wonders, if greatest, it must be confess'd,
That the blessing's as great, when it can be possess'd:
For thence such sensations, such high pleasures flow,
As mean hearts ne'er dream of, as bad hearts ne'er know.
For friendship all proper endowments of mind;
When I see, with what groveling prospects in view,
Human creatures self-interest, unceasing, pursue;
A friend, bosom friend, as belov'd as sincere,
Must ever the greatest of wonders appear!
But of wonders, if greatest, it must be confess'd,
That the blessing's as great, when it can be possess'd:
For thence such sensations, such high pleasures flow,
As mean hearts ne'er dream of, as bad hearts ne'er know.
Go on then, dear creature, increase in your love;
Your friendship—which, heart and pen, see, I approve—
Your friendship to her, my lov'd partner and bride,
Whose worth you have known, and whose truth you have try'd.
Go on, well assur'd, that the faith you express,
Will gain, by exertion, a constant increase;
Till your hearts, all refin'd, for those regions are meet,
Where never shall enter chagrin or deceit;
Where parting or absence shall never be known,
The cynic's mean jest, or the father's stern frown!
—But, for evils like these, while on earth you remain,
Expect them, nay, welcome them,—do not complain:
They're the terms of our being;—a tax, which all they,
Whose souls and whose pleasures are godlike, must pay.
And who, for such gifts, would not pay them with glee?—
Here, take them, ye censurers, take them from me!
While my carriage rolls lightly along the smooth road,
My pence at the turnpike are freely bestow'd .
This tax, you, with pleasure, my dear, may lay down,
Whom many high blessings, distinguishing, crown:
But two are in chief—the best heaven could send—
A friend, and a heart, which can relish that friend:
That friend, whose warm heart is so much of your own,
That sometimes I think your dear souls are but one!
So sensible each, that you both feel too much,
Like the plant, which shrinks back at the gentlest touch.
Oh both, in such dearth of sincerity, blest,
To have found for each other so social a breast!
Thrice happy in friendship!—which, while I admire,
Let me breathe the soft wish, and indulge the desire;
“Be my heart with your hearts in triple league ty'd;
“And let death,—no, not death the sweet union divide.”
Your friendship—which, heart and pen, see, I approve—
Your friendship to her, my lov'd partner and bride,
Whose worth you have known, and whose truth you have try'd.
Go on, well assur'd, that the faith you express,
Will gain, by exertion, a constant increase;
Till your hearts, all refin'd, for those regions are meet,
Where never shall enter chagrin or deceit;
Where parting or absence shall never be known,
The cynic's mean jest, or the father's stern frown!
—But, for evils like these, while on earth you remain,
Expect them, nay, welcome them,—do not complain:
They're the terms of our being;—a tax, which all they,
Whose souls and whose pleasures are godlike, must pay.
And who, for such gifts, would not pay them with glee?—
Here, take them, ye censurers, take them from me!
184
My pence at the turnpike are freely bestow'd .
This tax, you, with pleasure, my dear, may lay down,
Whom many high blessings, distinguishing, crown:
But two are in chief—the best heaven could send—
A friend, and a heart, which can relish that friend:
That friend, whose warm heart is so much of your own,
That sometimes I think your dear souls are but one!
So sensible each, that you both feel too much,
Like the plant, which shrinks back at the gentlest touch.
Oh both, in such dearth of sincerity, blest,
To have found for each other so social a breast!
Thrice happy in friendship!—which, while I admire,
Let me breathe the soft wish, and indulge the desire;
“Be my heart with your hearts in triple league ty'd;
“And let death,—no, not death the sweet union divide.”
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