Whom flow'rs alone I knew would little please, Let fall th' unfinish'd wreath, and rov'd for fruit; Pick'd from the thorns and briars of reproof, But all is in his hand whose praise I seek. And idle tinkling of a minstrel's lyre, To charm his ear, whofe eye is on the heart; AŃ AN EPISTLE то JOSEPH HILL, ESQ DEAR JOSEPH-five and twenty years ago- True. Changes will befall, and friends may part, And, And, were Ì call'd to prove th' affertion true, Whence comes it then, that in the wane of life, Though nothing have occurr'd to kindle ftrife, We find the friends we fancied we had won, Though num'rous once, reduc'd to few or none? Can gold grow worthlefs that has stood the touch? No: Gold they feem'd, but they were never fuch. Horatio's fervant once, with bow and cringe, Swinging the parlour-door upon its hinge, Dreading a negative, and overaw'd Left he should trefpafs, begg'd to go abroad. Go, fellow! whither?-turning fhort about Nay. Stay at home; you're always going out, - 'Tis but a step, fir, juft at the ftreet's endFor what? An please you, fir, to fee 'a friend. A friend! Horatio cried, and feem'd to startmarry fhalt thou, and with all my heart Yea And fetch my cloak, for though the night be raw I'll fee him too the firft I ever faw. I knew the man, and knew his nature mild, And was his play-thing often when a child ; But fomewhat at that moment pinch'd him clofe, Perhaps, his confidence juft then betray'd, His grief might prompt him with the speech he made; But not to moralize too much, and ftrain No matter where, in China or Japan, Decreed |