Classic Poem

1

If we no old historian's name
Authentique will admitt,
And thinke all said of friendship's fame
But poetry and wit:
Yet what's revered by minds so pure
Must be a bright Idea, sure.

2

But as our immortalitie
By inward sense we find,
Judging that if it could not be,
It would not be design'd:
So heare how could such copyes fall,
If there were no originall?

3

But if truth be in auncient song,
Or story we beleive,
If the inspir'd and greater throng
Have scorned to deceive;
There have been hearts whose friendship gave
Them thoughts at once both soft and brave.

4

Among that consecrated few,
Some more seraphick shade
Lend me a favourable clew,
Now mists my eyes invade,
Why, having fill'd the world with fame,
Left you so little of your flame?

5

Why is't so difficult to see
Two bodyes and one minde?
And why are those who else agree
So differently kind?
Hath nature such fantastique art,
That she can vary every heart?

6

Why are the bonds of friendship tyed
With so remisse a knot,
That by the most it is defyed,
And by the rest forgot?
Why do we step with so slight sense
From friendship to indifference?

7

If friendship sympathy impart,
Why this ill shuffled game,
That heart can never meet with heart,
Or flame encounter flame?
What doth this crueltie create?
Is it th'intrigue of love or fate?

8

Had friendship nere been known to men,
(The ghost at last confest)
The world had been a stranger then
To all that Heav'n possess'd.
But could it all be heare acquir'd,
Not heaven it selfe would be desir'd.