The Lover and the Friend

Endued with all that could adorn Or bless thee, first and fairest born! A soul! that looks superior down, Let giddy Fortune smile or frown; With Age's wisdom, not her years, Stella, all excellence appears; Then, who can blame me if I blend The name of Lover with the Friend.

Like Noah's dove, my busy breast Has rov'd to find a place of rest! Some faithful bosom, to repose, And hush the family of woes. Then, do I dream? or have I found The fair and hospitable ground? Ah! quit your sex's rules, and lend A Lover's wishes to the Friend.

Absence I try'd,—but try'd in vain! It heals not, but upbraids my pain; For thee! I'd bear the reaper's toil; For thee! consume the midnight oil; Then, to your judgment wou'd I owe All that I read, and write, and know. Can those who wish like me, pretend To part the Lover and the Friend?

Come, then, and let us dare to prove Disinterested sweets of Love; For generous Love no dwelling finds In poor and mercenary minds: Laugh at Life's idle fiuttering things; Look down with pity upon kings; Careless! who like, or discommend, Blest in the Lover and the Friend!

Oh! come, and we'll together haste O'er Life's uncomfortable waste: Bear the sharp thorn, to find the rose, And smile at transitory woes: Keep the bright goal of Hope in view, Nor look behind, as others do; 'Till death, and only death shall end At once the Lover and the Friend.