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To prove at last my main intent
Needs no expense of argument,

No cutting and contriving-
Seeking a real friend we seem
T'adopt the chemist's golden dream,

With stiil less hope of thriving. Sometimes the fault is all our own, Some blemish in due time made known

By trespass or omission; Sometimes occasion brings to light Our friend's defect long hid from sight,

And even from suspicion. Then judge yourself, and prove your man As circumspectly as you can,

And, having made election, Beware no negligence of yours, Such as a friend but ill endures,

Enfeeble his affection.

That secrets are a sacred trust,
That friends should be sincere and just,

That constancy befits them,
Are observations on the case,
That savour much of common-place,

And all the world admits them.
But 'tis not timber, lead, and stone,
An architect requires alone,

To finish a fine building-
The palace were but half complete,
If he could possibly forget

The carving and the gilding.
The man that hails you Tom or Jack,
And proves by thumps upon your back

How he esteems your merit,
Is such a friend, that one bad need
Be very much his friend indeed,

To pardon or to bear it.
As similarity of mind,
Or something not to be defined,

First fixes our attention ;
So manners decent and polite,
The same we practised at first sight

Must save it from declension.

Some act upon this prudent plan,
• Say little, and hear all you can.'

Safe policy, but hateful-
So barren sands imbibe the shower,
But render neither fruit nor flower,

Unpleasant and ungrateful.

The man I trust, if shy to me,
Shall find me as reserved as he ;

No subterfuge pleading
Shall win my confidence again ;
I will by no means entertain

A spy on my proceeding.
These samples for alas! at last
These are but samples, and a taste

Of evils yet unmention'd, -
May prove the task a task indeed,
In which 'tis much if we succeed

However well intention'd.

Pursue the search, and you will find,
Good sense and knowledge of mankind

To be at least expedient,
And, after summing all the rest,
Religion ruling in the breast

A principal ingredient.
The noblest Friendship ever shown
The Saviour's history makes known,

Though some have turn'd and turn'd it;
And, whether being crazed or blind,
Or seeking with a biass'd mind,

Have not, it seems, disceru'd it.
O Friendship, if my soul forego
Thy dear delights while here below;

To mortify and grieve me,
May I myself at last appear
Unworthy, base, and insincere,

Or may my friend deceive me!

THE ROSE.

The rose had been wash’d, just wash'd in a shower,

Which Mary to Anna convey'd,
The plentiful moisture encumber'd the flower,

And weigh'd down its beautiful head.
The cup was all fill'd, and the leaves were all wet,

And it seem'd to a fanciful view,
To weep for the buds it had left with regret,

On the flourishing bush where it grew.
I hastily seized it, unfit as it was

For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd,
And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas !

I snapp'd it, it fell to the ground.
And sach, I exclaim'd, is the pitiless part

Some act by the delicate mind,
Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart

Already to sorrow resign’d.
This elegant rose, bad I shaken it less,

Might have bloom'd with its owner a while ;
And the tear, that is wiped with a little address,

May be follow'd perhaps by a smile.

THE NEGRO'S COMPLAINT.

FORCED from home and all its pleasures,

Afric's coast I left forlorn ;
To increase a stranger's treasures

O’er the raging billows borne.
Men from England bought and sold me.

Paid my price in paltry gold;
But, though theirs they have enroll'd me,

Minds are never to be sold.

Still in thought as free as ever,

What are England's rights, I ask, Me from my delights to sever,

Me to torture, me to task ? Fleecy locks and black complexion,

Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; Skins may differ, but affection

Dwells in white and black the same.

Why did all-creating Nature

Make the plant for which we toil ? Sighs must fan it, tears must water,

Sweat of ours must dress the soil, Think, ye masters iron-hearted,

Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted

For the sweets your cane affords.

Is there, as ye sometimes tells us,

Is there One who reigns on high ? Has he bid you buy and sell us,

Speaking from his throne the sky? Ask him, if your knotted scourges,

Matches, blood-extorting screws, Are the means which duty urges,

Agents of his will to use?

Hark! he answers—wild tornadoes,

Strewing yonder seas with wrecks : Wasting towns, plantations, meadows,

Are the voice, with which he speaks. He, foreseeing what vexations

Afric's sons should undergo, Fix'd their tyrant's habitations

Where his whirlwinds answer--no.

By our blood in Afric wasted,

Ere our necks received the chain ; By the mis’ries we have tasted,

Crossing in your barks the main; By our suff'rings, since ye brought us

To the man-degrading mart
Ali sustain'd by patience, taught us

Only by a broken heart:

Deem our nation brutes no longer,

Till some reason ye shall find
Worthier of regard, and stronger

Than the colour of our kind.
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings

Tarnish all your boasted powers,
Prove that you have human feelings,

Ere you proudly question ours !

BOADICEA.

AN ODE.

When the British warrior queen,

Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Sought, with an indignant mien,

Counsel of her country's gods,

Sage beneath the spreading oak

Sat the Druid, hoary chief;
Every burning word he spoke

Full of rage, and full of grief.

Princess ! if our aged eyes

Weep upon thy matchless wrongs, "Tis because resentment ties

All the terrors of our tongues.

Rome shall perish— write that word

In the blood that she has spilt ;
Perish, hopeless and abhorr’d,

Deep in ruin as in guilt.

Rome, for empire far renown'd,

Tramples on a thousand states ;
Soon her pride shall kiss the ground-

Hark! the Gaul is at her gates !

Other Romans shall arise,

Heedless of a soldier's name; Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize,

Harmony the path to fame.

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