How would ingratitude delight? And how would censure glut her spite? If I should Stella's kindness hide In silence, or forget with pride, When on my sickly couch I lay, Impatient both of night and day, Lamenting in unmanly strains, Called every power to ease my pains, Then Stella ran to my relief With cheerful face and inward grief; And though by Heaven's severe decree She suffers hourly more than me, No cruel master could require, From slaves employed for daily hire, What Stella by her friendship warmed, With vigour and delight performed. My sinking spirits now supplies With cordials in her hands and eyes, Now with a soft and silent tread, Unheard she moves about my bed. I see her taste each nauseous draught, And so obligingly am caught: I bless the hand from whence they came, Nor dare distort my face for shame. Best pattern of true friends beware, You pay too dearly for your care; If while your tenderness secures My life, it must endanger yours. For such a fool was never found, Who pulled a palace to the ground, Only to have the ruins made Materials for a house decayed. _While Dr. Swift was at Sir William Temple's_, _after he left the University of Dublin_, _he contracted a friendship with two of Sir William's relations_, _Mrs. Johnson and Mrs. Dingley_, _which continued to their deaths_. _The former of these was the amiable Stella_, _so much celebrated in his works_. _In the year 1727_, _being in England_, _he received the melancholy news of her last sickness_, _Mrs. Dingley having been dead before_. _He hastened into Ireland_, _where he visited her_, _not only as a friend_, _but a clergyman_. _No set form of prayer could express the sense of his heart on that occasion_. _He drew up the following_, _here printed from his own handwriting_. _She died Jan. 28_, _1727_. THE FIRST HE WROTE OCT. 17, 1727.