Among their brethren in the fkies,
To which (though late) fhall Stella rife.
Ten thousand oaths upon record
Are not fo facred as her word :
The world fhall in its atoms end,
E're Stella can deceive a friend.
By honour feated in her breaft
She still determines what is beft:
What indignation in her mind
Against enflavers of mankind!
Base kings, and minifters of state,
Eternal objects of her hate.
She thinks, that nature ne'er design'd
Courage to man alone confin'd:
Can cowardice her fex adorn,
Which most exposes ours to fcorn?
She wonders where the charm appears
In Florimel's affected fears;
For Stella never learn'd the art
At proper times to scream and ftart;
Nor calls up all the house at night,
And swears the faw a thing in white.
Doll never flies to cut her lace,
Or throw cold water in her face,
Because she heard a fudden drum,
Or found an earwig in a plum.
Her hearers are amaz'd, from whence Proceeds that fund of wit and fenfe;
Which, tho' her modesty would shroud,
Breaks like the fun behind a cloud;
While gracefulness its art conceals,
And yet through ev'ry motion steals.
Say, Stella, was Prometheus blind,
And, forming you, mistook your kind?
No; 'twas for you alone he ftole
The fire, that forms a manly foul;
Then, to complete it ev'ry way,
He moulded it with female clay :
To that you owe the nobler flame,
To this the beauty of your frame.
How would ingratitude delight,
And how would cenfure glut her spight,
If I fhould Stella's kindness hide
In filence, or forget with pride?
When on my fickly couch I lay,
Impatient both of night and day,
Lamenting in unmanly ftrains,
Call'd ev'ry pow'r to ease my pains,
Then Stella ran to my relief
With chearful face, and inward grief;
And, though by heav'n's fevere decree
She fuffers hourly more than me,
No cruel master could require
From flaves employ'd for daily hire
What Stella, by her friendship warm'd,
With vigour and delight perform'd:
My finking spirits now supplies
With cordials in her hands and eyes;
Now with a soft and filent treade
Unheard fhe moves about
my bed.
I fee her tafte each naufeous draught,
And so obligingly am caught:
I blefs the hand from whence they came,
Nor dare distort my face for shame.
Beft pattern of true friends, beware:
You pay too dearly for your care,
If, while your tenderness fecures
My life, it must endanger yours;
For fuch a fool was never found,
Who pull❜d a palace to the ground
Only to have the ruins made
Materials for an house decay'd.
Dans l'adverfité de nos meilleurs amis nous trouvous toujours quelque chofes, qui ne nous deplaist pas.
In the adverfity of our best friends we always find fomething that doth not displease us.
As Rochefoucault his maxims drew
From nature, I believe them true;
They argue no corrupted mind
In him; the fault is in mankind.
This maxim more than all the reft Is thought too base for human breast: "In all diftreffes of our friends "We first confult our private ends "While nature, kindly bent to ease us, "Points out fome circumftance to please. us."
If this perhaps your patience move, Let reafon and experience prove.
We all behold with envious eyes
Our equal rais'd above our size,
I love my friend as well as you:
But why should he obstruct my view?
Then let me have the higher post;
Suppose it but an inch at moft.
If in a battle you should find
One, whom you love of all mankind, y
Had fome heroick action done,
A champion kill'd, or trophy won;
Rather than thus be overtopt,
Would you not wish his laurels cropt?
Dear honeft Ned is in the gout,
Lies rack'd with pain, and
you without: How patiently you hear him groan! How glad, the cafe is not your own!
What poet would not grieve to fee
His brother write as well as he?
But, rather than they should excell,
Would with his rivals all in hell?
Her end when emulation miffes, She turns to envy, stings and hiffes: The strongest friendship yields to pride, Unless the odds be on our fide.
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