A night, that glooms us in the noontide ray,
And wraps our thought, at banquets, in the shroud.
Life's little stage is a simall eminence,

Inch-high the grave above; that home of man,
Where dwells the multitude: we gaze around;
We read their nonuments; we figh; and while
We figh, we fink; and are what we deplor'd;
Lamenting, or lamented, all our lot!

Is death at distance? No: he has been on thee;
And given fure carnest of his final blow,
Those hours, which lately smil'd, where are they now?
Pallid to thought, and ghaftly! drown'd, all drown'd
In that great deep, which nothing difembogues;
And, dying, they bequeath'd thee small renown.
The rest are on the wing: how fleet their flight!
Already has the fatal train took fire;
A moment, and the world's blown up to thee;
The sun is darkness, and the stars are duft.

Time passes like a post: we nothing send But poor Belterophon's express; our doom. 'Tis greatly wife to talk with our past hours; And ask them, what report they bore to heaven; And how they might have borne more welcome news. Their answers form what men Experience call; If Wisdom's friend, her best; if not, worst foe. O reconcile them; kind Experience cries, "There's nothing here, bur what as nothing weighs; "The more our joy, the more we know it vain; "And by fuccess are tutor'd to despair." Nor is it only thus, but must be fo. Who knows not this, though grey, is still a child. Loose then from earth the grafp of fond defire, Weigh anchor, and fome happier clime explore.

Art thou so moor'd thou canst not disengage, Nor give thy thoughts a ply to future scenes? Since, by Life's pafling breath, blown up from earth Light, as the fummer's duft, we take in air A moment's giddy ffight, and fall again; Join the dull mais, increase the trodden foil, And fleep till earth herself Grall be no more; Since then (as emmets, their fimall world o'erthrown), We, fore amaz'd, from out earth's ruins crawl, And rife to fate extreme, of foul or fair,

As man's own choice, (controller of the skies!),
As man's despotic will, perhaps one hour,
(O how omnipotent is Time!) decrees;
Should not each warning give a strong alarm?
Warning, far less than that of bosom torn
From bosom, bleeding o'er the sacred dead?
Should not each dial strike us as we pass,
Portentous, as the written wall, which struck,
O'er midnight-bowls, the proud Affyrian pale,
Ere-while high-flush'd with insolence and wine?
Like that, the dial speaks; and points to thee,
LORENZO! loath to break the banquet up:
"O man, thy kingdom is departing from thee;
" And, while it lasts, is emptier than my shade."
Its filent language fuch: nor need'it thou call
Thy Magi, to decypher what it means;
Know, like the Median, fate is in thy walls:
Dost afk, how? whence? Belshazzar-like amaz'd!
Man's make incloses the sure seeds of death;
Life feeds the murderer: ingrate! he thrives.
On her own meal; and then his nurse devours.
But here, LORENZO, the delufion lyes:

That folar hadow, as it measures life,
It life resembles too: life speeds away
From point to point, though feeming to stand still:
The cunning fugitive is swift by stealth;
Toe fubtile is the movement to be seen,
Yet foon man's hour is up, and we are gone.
Warnings point out our danger; gnomons, time:
As these are useless when the sun is set;
So those, but when more glorious Reason shines.
Reason should judge in all; in Reason's eye,
That fedentary shadow travels hard:
But such our gravitation to the wrong,
So prone our hearts to whifper what we wish,
Tis later with the wife than he's aware;
A Wilmington goes flower than the fun;
And all mankind mistake their time of day;
Even age itself: fresh hopes are hourly fown
In furrow'd brows. So gentle life's descent,
We fout our eyes, and think it is a plain:
We take fair days in winter, for the spring;
And turn our bleslings into bane. Since oft

1

Man must compute that age he cannot feel,
He scarce believes he's older for his years.
Thus, at life's latest eve, we keep in store
One disappointment fure, to crown the reft;
The disappointment of a promis'd hour.
On this or fimilar, PHILANDER! thou,
Whose mind was moral, as the preacher's tongue;
And strong, to wield all science worth the name;
How often we talk'd down the summer's fun,
And cool'd our passions by the breezy stream!
How often thaw'd, and shorten'd winter's eve,
By conflict kind, that struck out latent truth;
Beft found, so sought; to the recluse more coy!
Thoughts disentangle passing o'er the lip;
Clean runs the thread; if not, 'tis thrown away,
Or kept to tie up nonsense for a fong;
Song, fashionably fruitless! such as stains
The fancy, and unhallow'd paffion fires;
Chiming her faints to Cytherea's fane.

Know'st thou, LORENZO! what a friend contains?
As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flow'rs,
So men from FRIENDSHIP, wisdom and delight:
Twins ty'd by nature, if they part, they die.
Haft thou no friend to fet thy mind abroach?
Good fenfe will stagnate thoughts shut up, want air,
And fpoil, like bales unopen'd to the fun.
Had thought been all, sweet speech had been deny'd:
Speech, thought's canal! speech, thought's criterion too.
Thought in the mine, may come forth gold or drosss
When coin'd in word, we know its real worth.
If Sterling, store it for thy future use;
'Twill buy thee benefit; perhaps, renown.
Thought, too, deliver'd, is the more possess'd;
Teaching, we learn; and, giving, we retain
The births of intellect: when dumb, forgot.
Speech ventilates our intellectual fire;
Speech burnishes our mental magazine;
Brightens for ornament, and whets for ufe.
What pumbers sheath'd in erudition ly,
Plung'd to the hilts in venerable tomes,
And rufted in; who might have borne an edge,
And play'd a da a sprightly beam, if born to speech;
If born bless'd heirs of half their ir mother's tongue?

'Tis thought's exchange, which, like th' alternate puft
Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum,
And defecates the student's standing pool.

In contemplation is his proud resource?
'Tis poor, as proud, by converse unfuftain'd
Rude thought runs wild in contemplation's field;
Converse, the menage, breaks it to the bit
Of due restraint; and emulation's spur
Gives graceful energy, by rivals aw'd.
'Tis converse qualifies for folitude;
As exercise, for falutary rest.
By that untutor'd, Contemplation raves
A lunar prince, or famish'd beggar dies;
And Nature's fool, by Wisdom's is outdone.

Wisdom, though richer than Peruvian mines,
And sweeter than the sweet ambrosial hive,
What is the, but the means of happiness?
That unobtain'd, than folly more a fool;
A melancholy fool, without her bells :
Friendship the means, and friendship richly gives
The precious end, which makes our wisdom wife..
Nature, in zeal for human amity,
Denies, or damps an undivided joy.
Joy is an import; joy is an exchange;
Joy flies monopolifts: it calls for two:
Rich fruit! heav'n-planted! never pluck'd by ones
Needful auxiliars are our friends, to give
To focial man true relish of himself.
Full on ourselves descending in a line
Pleasure's bright beam, is feeble in delight :-
Delight intenfe is taken by rebound;
Reverberated pleasures fire the breast.

Celestial Happiness, whene'er she stoops To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds,. And one alone, to make her sweet amends For absent heav'n, the bosom of a friend; Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft, Each other's pillow to repose divine. Beware the counterfeit: in Paffion's flame Hearts melt; but melt like ice, foon harder froze True love strikes root in Reason, Patlion's foe: Virtue alone entenders us for life :

I wrong her much-entenders us for ever.

Of Friendship's fairest fruits, the fruit most fair
Is Virtue kindling at a rival fire,

And, emuloujly, rapid in her race.
O the foft enmity! endearing strife!
This carries Friendship to her noontide point,
And gives the rivit of eternity.
From Friendship, which outlives my former themes,
Glorious survivor of old Time, and Death!
From friendship, thus, that flow'r of heavenly feed,
The wife extract earth's most Hyblean bliss,
Superior wifdom, crown'd with fimiling joy;
For joy, from friendship born, abounds in fimiles.
O store it in the foul's most golden cell!

But for whom blossoms this Elysian flower?
Abroad they find, who cherish it at home.
LORENZO! pardon what my love extorts,
An honest love and not afraid to frown.
Though choice of follies fasten on the great,
None clings more obftinate, than fancy fond
That facred friendship is their easy prey;
Caught by the wafture of a golden lure;
Or fafcination of a high-born simile.
Their smiles the great and the coquet throw out
For others hearts, tenacious of their own;
And we no less of ours, when fuch the bait.
Ye Fortune's cofferers! ye powers of wealth!
You do your rent-rolls most felonious wrong,
By taking our attachiment to yourselves.
Can gold gain friendship? impudence of hope!
As well mere man an angel might beget.
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 such miracles below.
What if (fince daring on so nice a theme)
I shew thee friendship delicate, as dear,
Of tender violations apt to die?
Reserve will wound it; and distrust, destroy.
Deliberate on all things with thy friend:
But since friends grow not thick on ev'ry bough,
Nor ev'ry friend unrotten at the core;
First, on thy friend, delib'rate with thyself: