As frost to the bud, and blight to the blossom, even such is self-interest to Friendship: For Confidence cannot dwell where Selfishness is porter at the gate. If thou see thy friend to be selfish, thou canst not be sure of his honesty; And in seeking thine own weal, thou hast wronged the reliance of thy friend. Flattery hideth her varnished face when Friendship sitteth at his board: And the door is shut upon Suspicion, but Candour is bid glad welcome. For Friendship abhorreth doubt, its life is in mutual trust, And perisheth, when artful praise proveth it is sought for a purpose. A man may be good to thee at times, and render thee mighty service, Whom yet thy secret soul could not desire as a friend; For the sum of life is in trifles, and though, in the weightier masses, A man refuse thee not his purse, nay his all in thine utmost need, Yet if thou canst not feel that his character agreeth with thine own, Thou never wilt call him friend, though thou render him a heartful of gratitude. A coarse man grindeth harshly the finer feelings of his brother; A common mind will soon depart from the dull companionship of wisdom; A weak soul dareth not to follow in the track of vigour and decision; And the worldly regardeth with scorn the seeming foolishness of faith. A mountain is made up of atoms, and friendship of little matters, And if the atoms hold not together, the mountain is crumbled into dust. Come, I will show thee a friend; I will paint one worthy of thy trust: Thine heart shall not weary of him: thou shalt not secretly despise him. Thou art long in learning him, in unravelling all his worth; And he dazzleth not thine eyes at first, to be darkened in thy sight afterward, But riseth from small beginnings, and reacheth the height of thine esteem. He remembereth that thou art only man; he expecteth not great things from thee: And his forbearance toward thee silently teacheth thee to be considerate unto him. He despiseth not courtesy of manner, nor neglecteth the decencies of life: Nor mocketh the failings of others, nor is harsh in his censures before thee: For so, how couldst thou tell, if he talketh not of thee in ridicule? He withholdeth no secret from thee, and rejecteth not thine in turn; He shareth his joys with thee, and is glad to bear part in thy sorrows. Yet one thing, he loveth thee too well to show thee the corruptions of his heart: For as an ill example strengthened the hands of the wicked, So to put forward thy guilt, is a secret poison to thy friend: For the evil in his nature is comforted, and he warreth more weakly against it, If he find that the friend whom he honoureth, is a man more sinful than himself. I hear the communing of friends; ye speak out the fulness of your souls, And being but men, as men, ye own to all the sympathies of manhood: Confidence openeth the lips, indulgence beameth from the eye,