Classic Poem

So many tedious Weeks are past,
Without an Answer to my last,
While I from Post to Post expect,
'Tis just to censure thy Neglect — —
A faithful Heart where shall I find,
If Benjamin becomes unkind?

The Man whom Words or Forms offend,
But ill deserves the Name of Friend:
Yet Friendship, generous and sincere,
Can no indiff'rent Treatment bear;
The Heart that regularly burns,
Must have of Flame exact Returns.

To blame thee in a pleasant Strain,
The Muse design'd — — But strove in vain —
The noblest Passions of the Mind
Have Sentiments the most refin'd:
For ever Serious are the Joys
Which Friendship gives — Neglect destroys.

And canst thou, Benjamin ! forget
How oft', how eagerly we met;
How, on each other's ardent Breast,
We eas'd our Souls, with Cares opprest;
While yet no envious forty Miles,
While yet no interposing Toils,
The truest Pair asunder plac'd,
That e'er the Name of Friendship grac'd?

O why should forty Miles divide
What makes the distant Poles ally'd?
Are not the Indies often join'd,
When parted Friends possess one Mind?

But Benjamin revolves no more
The sacred Name of Friendship o'er!
His Soul, that once no Winter felt,
Has now, alass! forgot to melt!
Still knew thy Heart its wonted Care,
Mine could not but perceive it here!

Why should the Muse on Art depend,
Of Friendship writing — — to a Friend?
Or thy own Mem'ry will revive
Thy Flame, or Art in vain would strive!
Remember how, when Market Day
To Henley summon'd thee away,
Tho' short thy stay, the Danger small,
We weekly mourn'd th' unwelcome Call;
And own'd the Throbs of kindred Hearts,
When Friend from Friend, unwilling parts.

Or, when the Bounty of it's Lord,
A Mornings, drew me to thy Board,
What kind, endearing Things we spoke,
While, o'er the Coffee's chearful Smoke,
At once our Minds and Fasts we broke!
Each drank his Cup, and told his Grief;
And each, alternate, gave Relief!

Or when, to shun December 's Cold,
We by thy Chimney Stories told;
While George 's Beer, or Chappel 's Wine
Refresh'd our Souls, and made 'em shine;
If in our Way some Instance came,
Of a superior, brighter Flame,
(As how young Pylades would bleed,)
In his devoted Partner's stead,)
Our Sentence always us'd to be,
Such Love, my Friend, is mine to thee.

How wilt thou, John , the Task sustain,
To view thy native Place again?
But few Relations are thy Friends:
Thou lov'st thy Muse, they their own Ends!
How wilt thou walk the scornfull Town?
How face thy Unkle's surly Frown?
Thy Unkle's Frown, which on thy Mind
Had small Effect, while Ben was kind,
Shall now with double Force prevail,
And thy poor Heart beneath it fail!

O say my Friend! say what the Cause
Which makes thee slight those sacred Laws
By which our Kindred Souls were bound,
'Till each itself in t'other found?
Or rather, why dost quench the Flame,
By which refin'd, they grew the same:
As in th' eternal Soul they lay;
Ere, breath'd from thence, they dwelt in Clay?

Think not th' Expressions are too bold!
How can strong Passion be controul'd?
'Tis no imaginary Flight,
My Heart has felt more than I write!
Ev'n now, 'twould fain dissolve away,
And thro' this Quill itself convey¡

Ah! could it be, poor foolish Heart,
Where would'st thou find thy ravish'd Part?
Would'st thou to Benjamin complain?
Would he to Friendship melt again?
Again refund our common Right,
And let you meet, and re-unite?

Still canst thou, Ben , attentive read,
And not begin to melt indeed?
Is not the Friend again confest
By all the Pow'rs within thy Breast?
'Twas but an intermitting Fit — —
Methinks I see the Sentence writ!
The Paper glows, by thee design'd
To bear the Ardour of thy Mind!

My gen'rous Friend, forgive the Muse,
Who dar'd this Liberty to use!
She knew the Sparks were still the same,
And only strove to make them flame — —
A distant Friendship often lives
But on the Breath a Letter gives:
And still the Passion most improves,
When most the warm Expression moves!

Behold! a Soul without Disguise
To Friendship's Sacred Altar flies!
A Soul, who, free from selfish Views,
Sincerity alone pursues!
For ev'ry tender Passion fram'd,
Tho' oft'by envious Tongues defam'd;
Tho' oft' by various Fortune tost,
'Tis in her gloomy Mazes lost!

With such a Soul thou once couldst share
It's thin sown Joys, it's constant Care;
If still thy Heart the Choice approve,
O may we ever jointly move!
For ever int' Oblivion cast
That Void of Life, from hence our last;
And send, as Friendship still requires,
Mutual Supplies to feed her Fires!