Their smiles, the great, and the coquette, throw out For others' hearts, tenacious of their own; And we no less of ours, when such the bait. Ye fortune's cofferers! ye powers of wealth! 550 Can gold gain friendship? Impudence of hope! As well mere man an angel might beget. Love, and love only, is the loan for love. Lorenzo! pride repress; nor hope to find A friend, but what has found a friend in thee. All like the purchase; few the price will pay; And this makes friends such miracles below. What if (since daring on so nice a theme) I show thee friendship delicate, as dear, Of tender violations apt to die? 560 Reserve will wound it; and distrust, destroy. Deliberate on all things with thy friend. But since friends grow not thick on every bough, 563 Nor every friend unrotten at the core; First, on thy friend, deliberate with thyself; Pause, ponder, sift; not eager in the choice, Nor jealous of the chosen; fixing, fix; Judge before friendship, then confide till death. Well, for thy friend; but nobler far for thee; How gallant danger for earth's highest prize! 570 A friend is worth all hazards we can run. "Poor is the friendless master of a world: A world in purchase for a friend is gain." So sung he (angels hear that angel sing! Angels from friendship gather half their joy), So sung Philander, as his friend went round In the rich ichor, in the generous blood Of Bacchus, purple god of joyous wit, A brow solute, and ever-laughing eye. He drank long health, and virtue, to his friend; 580 His friend, who warm'd him more, who more inspired. Friendship's the wine of life; but friendship new (Not such was his) is neither strong, nor pure. O for the bright complexion, cordial warmth, And elevating spirit, of a friend, For twenty summers ripening by my side; All feculence of falsehood long thrown down; All social virtues rising in his soul; As crystal clear; and smiling, as they rise! Here nectar flows; it sparkles in our sight; 590 Rich to the taste, and genuine from the heart. High-flavour'd bliss for gods! on earth how rare! On earth how lost!--Philander is no more. Think'st thou the theme intoxicates my song? Am I too warm?--Too warm I cannot be. I loved him much; but now I love him more. Like birds, whose beauties languish, half-conceal'd, 597 Till, mounted on the wing, their glossy plumes Expanded shine with azure, green, and gold; How blessings brighten as they take their flight! His flight Philander took; his upward flight, If ever soul ascended. Had he dropp'd (That eagle genius!), oh! had he let fall One feather as he flew; I, then, had wrote, 604 What friends might flatter; prudent foes forbear; Rivals scarce damn; and Zoilus reprieve.