Tixall Poetry/On Friendship
On Friendship.
Friendship, the abstract of the world's chiefe joy!Which once contracted nothing can destroy;Whose first original, if true, doth riseFrom purest love, and perfect sympathys.The spring of soules, by which two equal move,And one another's bliss and griefs do prove;W hose different bodys but one heart admit,And both have but one will to govern it.From friendship we receave all that which canMake living here supportable to man;There is a secret in it does containA remedy or ease for every pain;It never flys us when we're in distress,Nor grows more courtly in our happiness.It flatters not, nor roughly dos reprove,But acts as faithfull love does reason move. It councels us in cares, no storms can shakeIts strong foundation, or disunion make.Length of enjoyment still augments the fire,For as it longer burnes it flames the higher.It does not now the passionate lover play,And then by its own heat melt all away,Like grosser love's fantastick happiness,Which gaining what creates it, still grows less;And if deny'd, despair does then supplyPossession's place, for hopeles love will dye.False fond chimera of a sicken'd brain!Contentment's ruine, and the judgment's stain!Misterious passion, tempest of the mind,Which once being entred, none a calm can find.Now hopes, then feares, do agitate the breast;The raging soule's with jealousy opprest:Expires by what it seekes, enjoy'd success,And surfeits of its long'd for happiness.Sure all its ills had never then bin try'd,When love by men was vainly deify'd.But they that perfect friendship do possess,Had they the world besides would find it less.