Love, and Love only, is the loan for love.
Lorenzo! pride reprefs; nor hope to find
A friend, but what has found a friend in Thee.
All like the purchase; few the price will pay ;
And this makes friends fuch miracles below.
What if (fince daring on so nice a theme)
I fhew thee friendship Delicate, as Dear,
Of tender violations apt to die?
Referve will wound it; and Distrust, destroy.
Deliberate in all things with thy friend.
But fince friends grow not thick on every bough,
Nor every friend unrotten at the core;
First, on thy friend, deliberate with Thyfelf;
Paufe, ponder, fift; not Eager in the choice,
Nor Jealous of the chofen; Fixing, Fix;
Judge before friendship, then confide till death.
Well, for thy friend; but nobler far for Thee;
How gallant danger for earth's highest prize!
A friend is worth all hazards we can run.
"Poor is the friendless mafter of a world :
"A world in purchase for a friend is gain."
So fung He (angels hear that angel fing!
Angels from friendship gather half their joy)
So fung Philander, as his friend went round
In the rich ichor, in the generous blood
Of Bacchus, purple god of joyous wit,
A brow folute, and ever-laughing eye.
He drank long health, and virtue, to his friend; 5
His friend, who warm'd him more, who more infpir'
Friendship's the wine of life; but friendship new
(Not fuch was His) is neither Strong, nor Pure. O! for the bright complexion, cordial warmth, And elevating spirit, of a friend,
For twenty fummers ripening by my fide;
All feculence of falsehood long thrown down;
All focial virtues rising in his foul;
As crystal clear; and smiling as they rife!
Here Nectar flows; it sparkles in our sight;
Rich to the taste, and genuine from the heart
High-flavour'd blifs for gods! on earth how rare!
On earth how loft!-Philander is no more.
Think'st thou the theme intoxicates my fong?
Am I too warm?-Too warm I cannot be.
I lov'd him much; but now I love him more.
Like birds, whose beauties languish, half-conceal'd,
Till, mounted on the wing, their gloffy plunes
Expanded thine with azure, green, and gold;
How bleffings brighten as they take their flight!
His flight Philander took; his upward flight,
If ever foul afcended. Had he dropt,
(That eagle genius!) O had he let fall
One feather as he flew; I, then, had wrote,
What friends might flatter; prudent foes forbear; 605
Rivals fearce damn; and Zoilus reprieve.
Yet what I can, I muft: it were profane
To quench a glory lighted at the skies,
And caft in fhadows his illustrious close.
Strange the theme most affecting, moft fublime, 610 Momentous moft to man, fhould fleep unfung!
And yet it fleeps, by genius unawak'd,
Painim or Chriftian; to the blush of wit.
Man's highest triumph! man's profoundest fall!
The Death-bed of the juft! is yet undrawn
By mortal hand; it merits a Divine:
Angels fhould paint it, angels ever There';
There, on a poft of honour, and of joy.
Dare I prefume, then? but Philander bids;
And glory tempts, and inclination calls-
Yet am I ftruck; as ftruck the foul, beneath
Aerial Groves impenetratable gloom;
Or, in fome mighty Ruin's folemn shade;
Or, gazing by pale lamps on high-born Duft,
In vaults; thin courts of poor unflatter'd kings;
Or, at the midnight Altar's hallow'd flame.
Is it religion to proceed? I pause-
And enter, aw'd, the temple of my theme.
Is it his death-bed? No: it is his fhrine:
Behold him, there, juft rifing to a god.
The chamber where the good man meets his fate,
Is privileg'd beyond the common walk
Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of heaven.
Fly, ye profane! If not, draw near with awe,
Receive the bleffing, and adore the chance,
That threw in this Bethesda your disease;
If unreftor'd by This, defpair your cure.
For, Here, refiftless demonstration dwells ;
A death-bed's a detector of the heart.
Here tir'd diffimulation drops her masque,
Through life's grimace, that miftrefs of the scene! Here Real, and Apparent, are the Same.
You fee the Man; you fee his hold on heaven;
If found his virtue; as Philander's, found.
Heaven waits not the last moment; owns her friends 645 On this fide death; and points them out to men, A lecture, filent, but of fovereign power! To vice, confusion; and to virtue, peace. Whatever farce the boastful hero plays, Virtue alone has majesty in death; And greater still, the more the tyrant frowns. Philander! he feverely frown'd on thee, "No warning given! Unceremonious fate! “A sudden rush from life's meridian joy! "A wrench from all we love! from all we are! 655 "A reftlefs bed of pain! a plunge opaque "Beyond conjecture! feeble Nature's dread! "Strong Reafon's fhudder at the dark unknown! "A fun extinguisht! a juft-opening grave!
“And Oh! the laft, last, what? (can words exprefs? 660. "Thought reach it?) the laft-Silence of a friend!” Where are thofe horrors, that amazement, where, This hideous group of ills, which fingly thock, Demand from man?-I thought him man till now. 664, Through nature's wreck, through vanquisht agonies,. (Like the stars struggling through this midnight gloom) What gleams of joy! what more than human peace ! Where, the frail mortal? the poor abject worm ? No, not in death, the Mortal to be found.
His conduct is a legacy for All.
Richer than Mammon's for his fingle heir.
His comforters he comforts; Great in ruin,
With unreluctant grandeur, gives, not yields
His foul fublime; and clofes with his fate.
How our hearts burnt within us at the scene! Whence this brave bound o'er limits fixt to man? His God fuftains him in his final hour!
His final hour brings glory to his God!
Man's glory heaven vouchsafes to call her own. We gaze, we weep; mixt tears of grief and joy! Amazement ftrikes! devotion burfts to flame ! Chriftians Adore! and Infidels Believe.
As fome tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow,
Detains the fun, Illuftrious from its height;
While rifing vapours, and descending shades,
With damps, and darkness, drown the spacious vale
Undampt by doubt, undarken'd by defpair,
Philander, thus, augustly rears his head,
At that black hour, which general horror sheds
On the low level of th' inglorious throng :
Sweet Peace, and heavenly Hope, and humble Joy,
Divinely beam on his exalted foul;
Destruction gild, and crown him for the skies,
With incommunicable luftre, bright.
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