No specious splendour of this stone,
Endears it to my memory ever,
With lustre only once it shone,
But blushes modest as the
giver.
2.
Some who can sneer at friendship’s
ties,
Have for my weakness oft reprov’d
me,
Yet still the simple gift I prize,
For I am sure, the giver lov’d
me.
3.
He offered it with downcast look,
As fearful that I might
refuse it,
I told him when the gift I took,
My only fear should
be to lose it.
4.
This pledge attentively I view’d,
And sparkling as I
held it near,
Methought one drop the stone bedew’d,
And ever since I’ve
lov’d a tear.
5.
Still to adorn his humble youth,
Nor wealth nor birth their
treasures yield,
But he who seeks the flowers of truth,
Must quit the garden for the
field.
6.
’Tis not the plant uprear’d
in sloth,
Which beauty shews, and sheds
perfume,
The flowers which yield the most of both,
In nature’s wild luxuriance
bloom.
7.
Had Fortune aided nature’s care,
For once forgetting to be
blind,
His would have been an ample share,
If well proportioned to his
mind.
8.
But had the Goddess clearly seen,
His form had fixed her fickle
breast,
Her countless hoards would his
have been,
And none remain’d to
give the rest.
* * * *
*
