Classic Poem

True Friendship is the noblest earthly gift
Which heaven on man bestows: the cordial drop,
That mingling with the bitter cup of woe,
Gives a kind tincture to the deadly draught.
Not mines afford a gem of equal worth;
But ah how rarely found! amid the croud
Though glittering counterfeits may oft appear,
And many a phantom borrow friendship's name,

Smooth complaisance, and well-dissembled kindness,
And flattery, hid beneath the specious mask
Of humble admiration and esteem,
Are often seen; they wear a fair appearance,
And dress'd in friendship's garb may please awhile;
But cheat the unwary heart, that trusts too far
Their seeming innocence, and honest face.
Self-interest is the secret spring that guides them;
This stopp'd, or broken, the machine stands still,
Or falls, and shivers into worthless fragments.

Happy the mind of nobler texture fram'd,
Sincere, benevolent, above disguise,
Dress'd in the plain unborrowed robe of truth.
These virtues make her favorite residence;
With virtue only real friendship dwells,
And friendship loves for virtue's sake alone.

While the frail scenes of momentary life
Bound the low narrow view of vulgar minds,
Ambition, envy, pride, and restless rage
Emit their baleful sparks; but soon, ah soon,
The blaze expires, and all is dark for ever.

But Friendship, kindled by fair piety,
(And thus she claims relation to the skies,)
Sheds her kind lustre o'er the path of life,
And guides the feet through many a thorny brake,
Unhurt: she points with upward aim to heaven;
To heaven, from whence the sacred ardour came,
And guardian angels own the kindred flame.