ODE VII.
37
In vain with friendship's flatt'ring name
Thy passion masks its inward shame;
Friendship, the treach'rous fuel of thy flame!
Once, I remember, tir'd of Love,
I spurn'd his hard, tyrannic chain,
Yet won the haughty fair to prove
What sober joys in friendship reign.
No more I sigh'd, complain'd, or swore;
The nymph's coy arts appear'd no more,
But each could laugh at what we felt before.
Well-pleas'd we pass'd the chearful day,
The unreserv'd discourse resign'd,
And I inchanted to survey
One gen'rous woman's real mind:
But soon I wonder'd what possess'd
Each wakeful night my anxious breast;
No other friendship e'er had broke my rest!
Fool
