L'Amiti, Est L'Amour Sans Ailes.[1]

1.     Why should my anxious breast repine,     Because my youth is fled?     Days of delight may still be mine;     Affection is not dead.     In tracing back the years of youth,     One firm record, one lasting truth     Celestial consolation brings;     Bear it, ye breezes, to the seat,     Where first my heart responsive beat, -     "Friendship is Love without his wings!" 2     Through few, but deeply chequer'd years,     What moments have been mine!     Now half obscured by clouds of tears,     Now bright in rays divine;     Howe'er my future doom be cast,     My soul, enraptured with the past,     To one idea fondly clings;     Friendship! that thought is all thine own,     Worth worlds of bliss, that thought alone -     "Friendship is Love without his wings!" 3     Where yonder yew-trees lightly wave     Their branches on the gale,     Unheeded heaves a simple grave,     Which tells the common tale;     Round this unconscious schoolboys stray,     Till the dull knell of childish play     From yonder studious mansion rings;     But here, whene'er my footsteps move,     My silent tears too plainly prove,      "Friendship is Love without his wings!" 4     Oh, Love! before thy glowing shrine,     My early vows were paid;     My hopes, my dreams, my heart was thine,     But these are now decay'd;     For thine are pinions like the wind,     No trace of thee remains behind,     Except, alas! thy jealous stings.     Away, away! delusive power,     Thou shall not haunt my coming hour;     Unless, indeed, without thy wings. 5     Seat of my youth! [2] thy distant spire     Recalls each scene of joy;     My bosom glows with former fire, -     In mind again a boy.     Thy grove of elms, thy verdant hill,     Thy every path delights me still,     Each flower a double fragrance flings;     Again, as once, in converse gay,     Each dear associate seems to say,     "Friendship is Love without his wings!' 6.     My Lycus! [3] wherefore dost thou weep?     Thy falling tears restrain;     Affection for a time may sleep,     But, oh, 'twill wake again.     Think, think, my friend, when next we meet,     Our long-wished interview, how sweet!     From this my hope of rapture springs;     While youthful hearts thus fondly swell,     Absence my friend, can only tell,     "Friendship is Love without his wings!" 7.     In one, and one alone deceiv'd,     Did I my error mourn?     No - from oppressive bonds reliev'd,     I left the wretch to scorn.     I turn'd to those my childhood knew,     With feelings warm, with bosoms true,     Twin'd with my heart's according strings;     And till those vital chords shall break,     For none but these my breast shall wake     Friendship, the power deprived of wings! 8     Ye few! my soul, my life is yours,     My memory and my hope;     Your worth a lasting love insures,     Unfetter'd in its scope;     From smooth deceit and terror sprung,     With aspect fair and honey'd tongue,     Let Adulation wait on kings;     With joy elate, by snares beset,     We, we, my friends, can ne'er forget,     "Friendship is Love without his wings!" 9     Fictions and dreams inspire the bard,     Who rolls the epic song;     Friendship and truth be my reward -     To me no bays belong;     If laurell'd Fame but dwells with lies,     Me the enchantress ever flies,     Whose heart and not whose fancy sings;     Simple and young, I dare not feign;     Mine be the rude yet heartfelt strain,     "Friendship is Love without his wings!"