Odes on Several Subjects/To Friendship

For works with similar titles, see To Friendship.
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To FRIENDSHIP.

I.Come, gentle Pow'r, from whom aroseWhate'er life's chequer'd scenes adorns;From whom the living current flowsWhence Science fills her various urns:Sacred to Thee, yon Marble dome,O Goddess, rears it's awful head,Fraught with the stores of Greece and Rome,With gold, and glowing gems inlaid;Where Art by thy command hath fixt her seat,And ev'ry Muse, and ev'ry Grace retreat.
II.For erst Mankind, a savage Race,As lawless Robbers rang'd the woods,And chose, when weary'd with the chace,'Midst rocks, and caves, their dark abodes;Till Friendship, thy persuasive strains,Pow'rful as Orpheus' magic song,Re-echo'd thro' the squalid plainsAnd drew the brutish herd along:Lost in surprize thy pleasing voice they own'd,Chose softer arts, and polisht at the sound.
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III.Then Pity first her sacred flameWithin their frozen bosoms rais'd;Tho' faint the spark, when Friendship came,When Friendship wav'd her wing it blaz'd.'Twas then first heav'd the social sigh,The social tear began to flow;They felt a sympathetic joy,And learnt to melt at others' woe:By just degrees Humanity refin'd,And Virtue fixt her empire in the mind.
IV.O Goddess, when thy form appears,Revenge and Rage, and Faction cease,The soul no Fury-Passion tears,But all is harmony, and peace.Aghast the purple[1] Tyrant stood,With awe beheld thy glowing charms,Forgot the cursed thirst of blood,And long'd to grasp thee in his arms;Felt in his breast unusual softness rise,And, deaf before, heard Pity's moving cries.
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V.Is there a Wretch in Sorrow's shade,Who wastes in tears Life's ling'ring hours?Is there, on whose devoted headHer vengeful curses Atë pours?See to their aid fair Friendship flies,Their sorrows sympathetic feels,With lenient hand her balm applies,And ev'ry grief indulgent heals:The woe-fraught Fiends before her stalk away,As Spectres shun the flaming eye of day.
VI.Oh for a faithful, honest Friend,To whom I ev'ry care could trust,Each weakness of my soul commend,Nor fear him treach'rous, or unjust!Drive Flatt'ry's Summer-train away.Those busy, curious, flutt'ring things,That insect-like, in Fortune's ray,Bask, and expand their gaudy wings:But ah when once the transient gleam is o'er,Behold the change!—They die, and are no more.
  1. ↑ Alluding to the Story of Damon, and Pythias.
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