THE CONTRAST. Inscribed to Mr. J. S—--k. Aug. 1803. __ WHEN love proves
false, and friends betray us, All nature seems a dismal chaos Of wretchedness and woe; We stamp mankind a base
ingrate, Half-loathing life we challenge Fate To strike the final blow. Then settl’d grief, with wild despair, Stares from our blood-shot eyes, Tho’ oft we try to hide our care, And check our bursting sighs. Still vexed, sae
wretched, We seek
some lanely wood, There sighing, and
crying, We pour
the briny flood. Mark the contrast--what joys we find, With friends sincere and beauty
kind, Congenial to our wishes; Then life appears a summer’s
day, Adown Time's crystal stream we play, As sportive’s
little fishes, We see nought then but general good, Which warm pervades all nature; Our hearts expand with gratitude Unto the great
Creator. Then let’s revere the
virtuous fair, The friend whose truth
is tried, For without these, go
where we please We’ll
always find a void. |