The Vanity of Friendship, a Poem, Written After the Manner of Swift. 1785

"'Tis true we talk of Friendship much, "But who are they who can keep touch?" Thus sung Hibernia's patriot Dean, In Satire's energetic strain; The story we have now in view, Will prove his observations true.

Seventeen hundred pounds a year; Made Jack to all the country dear, Of it he was no miser, as His starving predecessor was, Who left behind him what he stor'd, Of gold, the god that he ador'd: But Jack, Sir, liv'd a diff'rent way, He spent his time in amours gay.

He'd friends to come to him and dine, To prodigally drink his wine, To spend the tedious passing hours, In costly pleasure's roseate bow'rs, To take all from him they cou'd get, To make him pay their tavern debt, To give advice thro' private ends, In short, who had so many friends?

But now, alas! the time was come, When Jack had lost his stately home, When he consum'd his whole estate, That Fame might sound him goodly great, When he had run in debt to have Th' expensive suppers which he gave, And now the sheriffs keepers laid On house, 'till all the debts were paid.

"Now, let me think, (says Jack) I've gentry, Who'll give me diet and my rent free; There is Samuel, James, and John, Generous Sidropel and Mun, Whose numerous friendly actions shew'd Their tempers hospitably good, Whose soft benignity will grant What my necessity may want; With them I'll screen from Law's turmoils, 'Till Fortune more propitious smiles."

His case to Samuel then he told, Him Samuel cordially condol'd, But costly aid he wou'd not give, Yet seem'd from teeth to greatly grieve.

When Jack saw his dissembling mode, He curs'd the gifts he ill bestow'd, And hied to James's to sojourn— But supplication meets with scorn: He rap'd at door, sent in his name, The servant with this answer came:— "His Honour says, he does not know you; "And bid me the hall-door to show you." Thus baffled and abus'd by two, He went to John, and told his woe; But John, Sir, with a bow polite, Exclaim'd his house was robb'd last night, And was it not for that he wou'd Repay the compliments he ow'd.

Jack, stung with disappointment's pain, At this unmerited disdain, From those he almost rais'd from want, Cry'd, "Cou'd I former deeds recant, "I'd chuse with more judicious ken, "My friends 'mid undesigning men."

Wrap'd in such thoughts, which woe augment, To generous Sidropel he went; Who said his wife was brought-to-bed; The Doctor's fee was not yet paid; The house-rent was a heavy debt, And money he cou'd no where get.

Then quick to Mun he bent his way, And told the Fates' severe decree, Impell'd by Law's austere command, Whose mandate poorness can't withstand, To quit in mean Disguise's garb, (Profusion's sure and just reward) A patrimonial goodly seat, His wealthy ancestor's estate; And O! if happ'ly he wou'd glad, A bosom miserably sad, Ev'n with that cheering ray of hope, Which might the present anguish stop, He'd pray that to him shou'd be giv'n, Transcendent joys, the gifts of Heav'n!

Then Mun, replies "my dearest Jack, "You know the troubles on my back, "You know, Lord Love by passion led, "Debas'd, defil'd my nuptial bed; But when the damages I recover I'll pay thy friendship more than over."

Poor Jack when he had try'd each friend, And found none who'd assistance lend, Went home with sorrow in his heart, Which now felt Penury's galling smart: Scarce was he in, when noise at door Made him his dreadful case deplore; He thought 'twas bailiffs him to take, But, oh, how pleasing the mistake! 'Twas letter, with the glad account, He'd got a prize to the amount Of twice five thousand sterling pound, Which he might draw from lott'ry fund.

His friends came the succeeding day, Respects and compliments to pay, And e'en to lend the wanted cash, (They're sorry now they were so rash) Says Jack (who with just passion burn'd) Avaunt! by me ye're ever scorn'd! Ye vile dissembling hypocrites! Ye mean deceitful parasites! I cherished ye, far worse than fiends, And thought ye were my dearest friends; Too late I see my sad mistake, Experience must true wisdom make; 'Tis it can teach to justly scan The temper of dissembling man. I thought so num'rous were my friends, 'Twou'd Fabius tire to tell their names! But now I plainly see, alas! True Friendship neither is nor was.

O, HARRISON! belov'd, rever'd, With truth by all, to all endear'd, Whose gracefully illumin'd mind Is with benevolence refin'd, Who if an Hayley's pen was mine, Should in Fame's fairest annals shine.

Who is a friend (if friend there be) To Worth's imploring child, or me; Whose lov'd memorial ne'er shall part, From this disinterested heart; Or wand'ring thro' the lonely wood, Or strolling by the silver flood; Or in the still attentive hour, Of thought in Erudition's bow'r, Wilt thou (nor dread smooth Flatt'ry's praise) Accept the lisping Muse's lays?

Applauded man, my early guide, Above the pomp of tinsel pride, Above Malevolence's hate Thou art distinguishably great!