And innocence, with squint and frown,
Condemn for vices all their own.
Fable XXII.
The Four Bulls.
Friendship! source of bliss sedate,
Best balm for all the wounds of fate!
’Tis thine the sinking heart to raise,
When love retires, and health decays;
Unmix’d with thy sublimer fire,
Love’s but a fev’rish low desire,