Tho’ fancy may yield her precarious blessing,
Tho’ wit may enliven, and talent may glow,
’Tis Friendship alone, all our sorrows redressing,
Yields the purest delight that man’s bosom can know.
THE ALTER’D LAY.
I
I gave the strain to wild despair,
When pleasure’s sweetest scenes had faded,
When youth’s gay dreams, so bright and fair,
Misfortune’s murky cloud had shaded.
II
But still, tho’ sorrow rul’d the song,
And grief, that gay delights would perish,
Would Hope a softer note prolong,
And bid my breast her influence cherish.
III
She bade me turn to each delight
That blest with smiles life’s radiant morning,
And still her hand, with visions bright
Was every future hour adorning.