But if truth be in ancient song, Or story we believe; If the inspired and greater throng Have scorned to deceive; There have been hearts whose friendship gave Among that consecrated crew Some more seraphic shade Now mists my eyes invade. Why, having fill'd the world with fame, Why is't so difficult to see Two bodies and one mind? And why are those who else agree So difficultly kind? Why are the bands of friendship tied And by the most forgot? [But thus Orinda died: Heaven, by the same disease, did both translate; ful specimen of female character. She translated two of the tragedies of Corneille, and left a volume of letters to Sir Charles Cotterell, which were published a considerable time after her death. Jeremy Taylor addressed to her his "Measures and Offices of Friendship," and Cowley, as also Flatman, his imitator, honoured her memory with poetical tributes. If friendship sympathy impart, That heart can never meet with heart, Is't the intrigue of love or fate? Had friendship ne'er been known to men, (The ghost at last confest) The world had then a stranger been A FRIEND. LOVE, nature's plot, this great creation's soul, The earliest, whitest, blessed'st times did draw Friendship 's an abstract of this noble flame, "Tis love refined and purged from all its dross, The next to angel's love, if not the same, As strong in passion is, though not so gross: It antedates a glad eternity, And is an heaven in epitome..... Essential honour must be in a friend, Not such as every breath fans to and fro; But born within, is its own judge and end, And dares not sin though sure that none should know. Where friendship 's spoke, honesty 's understood; For none can be a friend that is not good. . ... Thick waters show no images of things; Friends are each other's mirrors, and should be Clearer than crystal or the mountain springs, And free from clouds, design or flattery. For vulgar souls no part of friendship share; Poets and friends are born to what they are. 34 |