For we quite agreed in doubting whether matrimony paid; Besides, we had our higher loves, ruled my heart, fair science Yet through it all no whispered word, no telltale glance or sigh, Told aught of warmer sentiment than friendly sympathy. We talked of love as coolly as we talked of nebulæ, And thought no more of being one than we did of being three. "Well, good by, chum !" I took her hand, for the time had come to go. And she said her young affections were all wound My going meant our parting, when to meet, we up in art. So we laughed at those wise men who say that friendship cannot live 'Twixt man and woman, unless each has something more to give : We would be friends, and friends as true as e'er were man and man; I'd be a second David, and she Miss Jonathan. We scorned all sentimental trash, - vows, kisses, tears, and sighs; High friendship, such as ours, might well such childish arts despise ; did not know. I had lingered long, and said farewell with a very heavy heart; For although we were but friends, 't is hard for honest friends to part. We liked each other, that was all, quite all there And then she raised her eyes to mine, - great was to say, liquid eyes of blue, So we just shook hands upon it, in a business Filled to the brim, and running o'er, like violet sort of way. We shared our secrets and our joys, together hoped and feared, With common purpose sought the goal that young Ambition reared; cups of dew; One long, long glance, and then I did, what I never did before Perhaps the tears meant friendship, but I'm sure the kiss meant more. WILLIAM B. TERRETT, A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP. Heaven gives us friends to bless the present scene; Night Thoughts. YOUNG. "A TEMPLE to Friendship," cried Laura, en- Resumes them, to prepare us for the next. vine.' So the temple was built, and she now only wanted An image of Friendship, to place on the shrine. How grows in Paradise our store. Burial of the Dead. KEBLE. I praise the Frenchman,* his remark was shrewd, So she flew to the sculptor, who sat down before How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude ! her An image, the fairest his art could invent; But so cold, and so dull, that the youthful adorer Saw plainly this was not the Friendship she meant. But grant me still a friend in my retreat, Retirement. CHOICE FRIENDS. True happiness O, never," said she, "could I think of en- Consists not in the multitude of friends, An image whose looks are so joyless and dim; But in the worth and choice. Cynthia's Revels. COWPER. BEN JONSON. We'll make, if you please, sir, a Friendship of Burns with one love, with one resentment glows. A generous friendship no cold medium knows, him." Iliad, Book ix. HOMER, Pope's Trans. So the bargain was struck; with the little god Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere, She joyfully flew to her home in the grove. Who came but for Friendship, and took away Like the stained web that whitens in the sun, Love!" Like summer friends, Flies of estate and sunneshine. The Answer. GEORGE HERBERT. What the declinèd is Troilus and Cressida, Act iii, Sc. 3. SHAKESPEare. FRIENDS TO BE SHUNNed. The man that hails you Tom or Jack, Is such a friend, that one had need To pardon, or to bear it. On Friendship. COWPER. Give me the avowed, the erect, the manly foe, Save, save, oh! save me from the Candid Friend! New Morality. GEORGE CANNING. FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE. Friendship is constant in all other things, Save in the office and affairs of love. Much Ado about Nothing, Act ii. Sc. 1. SHAKESPEARE. If I speak to thee in Friendship's name, How Shall I Woo? Friendship, like love, is but a name, 'Tis thus in friendship; who depend On many rarely find a friend. The Hare and Many Friends. QUARRELS OF FRIENDS. I have shot mine arrow o'er the house, And hurt my brother. Hamlet, Act v. Sc. 2. T. MOORE. GAY. SHAKESPEARE. For loan oft loses both itself and friend. SHAKESPEARE. Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best. Duchess of Malfy. JOHN WEBSTER. COMPLIMENT AND ADMIRATION. WHEN IN THE CHRONICLE OF WASTED | How could he see to do them? having made one, TIME. SONNET CVI. WHEN in the chronicle of wasted time SHAKESPEARE. O MISTRESS MINE. FROM "TWELFTH NIGHT," ACT II. SC. 3. O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming? Trip no further, pretty sweeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 't is not hereafter; In delay there lies no plenty, SHAKESPEARE. PORTIA'S PICTURE. FROM "THE MERCHANT OF VENICE," ACT III. SC. 2. FAIR Portia's counterfeit? What demi-god Should sunder such sweet friends: Here in her hairs The painter plays the spider; and hath woven A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, Faster than gnats in cobwebs : But her eyes, So joyously, So maidenly, Or hawk of the tower; Sweet Pomander, So courteous, so kind, Or hawk of the tower. JOHN SKELTON. THE FORWARD VIOLET THUS DID I CHIDE. SONNET XCIX. THE forward violet thus did I chide : Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love's breath? the purple pride More flowers I noted, yet I none could see, SHAKESPEARE. THERE IS A GARDEN IN HER FACE. FROM “AN HOURE'S RECREATION IN MUSICKE," 1606. THERE is a garden in her face, Where roses and white lilies blow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow ; There cherries grow that none may buy, Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry. Those cherries fairly do enclose Of orient pearl a double row, Which when her lovely laughter shows, They look like rosebuds filled with snow; Yet them no peer nor prince may buy, Till cherry-ripe themselves do cry. Her eyes like angels watch them still, Her brows like bended bows do stand, RICHARD ALLISON. GIVE PLACE, YE LOVERS. MY SWEET SWEETING. FROM A MS, TEMP. HENRY VIII. Ан, my sweet sweeting; My sweeting will I love wherever I go ; Full, steadfast, stable, and demure, There is none such, you may be sure, GIVE place, ye lovers, here before That spent your boasts and brags in vain ; My lady's beauty passeth more The best of yours, I dare well sayen, And thereto hath a troth as just As had Penelope the fair; |