20 COXCHOLOGY 



XXXVIII. 



But thee no party zeal can fire, 

 Nor sombre suit, nor gay attire. 



Awake an anxious thought ; 

 Nor heed'st thou, that thy silk must be, 

 (Rich produce of thine industr}',) 

 For stranger hands, but ne'er for thee. 



In graceful drap'ry wrought. 



XXXIX. 



Still thou art of a gem possest, 

 The richest solace of the breast, 



Tliat soiTOw's stroke may rend; 

 Weep not, what'er that stroke may be, 

 One true, one rare felicity. 

 Is thine — and hosts might envy thee, 



For thou hast found a Friend. 



