Smiling, as he luxurious sat,
He thus let loose his easy chat.
"This soup, my friend's a special treat,
Fit for an Emperor to eat,
And now, my pleasure to pursue,
I trust I have a treat for you.
I've spar'd no pains to know the fate
That on your future hopes may wait,
And what I shall proceed to tell
May altogether please you well,
Unless you are resolv'd to try
New whims and tricks of foolery,
On which, however will depend,
Whether your master is your friend.
If, at all points, the news I bring
May not be quite so flattering;
Yet surely it deserves at least,
To be thought good, if not the best.
—You need no longer stand in awe
Of any terrors of the law,
The beating you to Gripe-all gave
Did little harm to that same knave,
For he surviv'd to play a prank,
By robbing of a country bank,
And fled, as his late neighbours say,
To flourish in America.
Thither your fortune too is gone,
But then your fears are also flown.
Time, it is hop'd may make amends,
Fortune and you may still be friends;
Nor shall I my best wishes smother
To introduce you to each other.
My growing favour you will see,
So lay aside your livery:
Hence you will need not a disguise
'Gainst curious thoughts and prying eyes:
Your former title you may claim,
Again Quæ Genus is your name:
Be faithful, and you soon shall know
The kindness I may yet bestow. |
Nay, be but honest, while I live
Your upright service shall receive
All that my grateful hand should give: | } |
Nor doubt my purpose as sincere,—
More may be meant than meets the ear." |
What heart, with the least sense of good,
That would not melt with gratitude,
When such a gen'rous friend was near
The clouded scenes of life to cheer,
And bid the drooping hopes pursue
A brighter prospect now in view!
And where's the heart that would not feel,