Thus you befriend the most heroic way,
Bless all, on none an obligation lay;
So turn'd by nature's hand for all that's well,
'Tis scarce a virtue when you most excel.
Tho' sweet your presence, graceful is your mien,
You to be happy want not to be seen;
Though priz'd in public, you can smile alone,
Nor court an approbation but your own:
In throngs, not conscious of those eyes that gaze
In wonder fix'd, though resolute to please;
You, were all blind, would still deserve applause;
The world's your glory's witness, not its cause;
That lies beyond the limits of the day,
Angels behold it, and their God obey.
You take delight in others' excellence;
A gift, which nature rarely does dispense:
Of all that breathe 'tis you, perhaps, alone
Would be well pleas'd to see yourself outdone.
You wish not those, who show your name respect,
So little worth, as might excuse neglect;
Nor are in pain lest merit you should know;
Nor shun the well deserver as a foe;
A troublesome acquaintance, that will claim
To be well us'd, or dye your cheek with shame.
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