CHARLES COTTON. pxciii 



And all avoid me, as good men would fly 



The common hangman's shameful company. 



'I'hose who by fortune were. advanced above, 



Being obliged by my most ready love, 



bhun me, for fear lest my necessity 



Should urge what they're unwilling to deny, 



And are resolved they will not grant ; and those 



Have shared my meat, my money, and my clothes, 



Grown rich with others' spoils as well as mine. 



The coming near me now do all decline, 



Lest shame and gratitude should draw them in. 



To be to me what I to them have been ; 



l3y which means I am stripp'd of all supplies. 



And left alone to my own miseries. 



CoRYDON. — In the relation that thy grief has made. 

 The world's false friendships are too true display'd ; 

 But, courage, man, thou hast one friend in store 

 Will ne'er forsake thee for thy being poor ; 

 I will be true to thee in worst estate, 

 And love thee more now thau when fortunate. 



Clotten.— All goodness then on earth I see's not lost^ 

 I of one friend in misery can boast. 

 Which is enough, and peradventure more 

 Than any one could ever do before; 

 And I to thee as true a friend will prove 

 Not to abuse but to deserve thy love." 



His Ode to Hope merits insertion, not only from its being a 

 pitture of his own mind, but as a fair specimen of his poetical 

 pow^-^rs : — 



"HOPE. 



PINDARICK ODE. 



Hope, thou darling, and delight 



Of unforeseeing reckless minds, 

 Thou deceiving parrisite. 

 Which no where entertainment finds 

 But with the wretched or the vain ; 

 'Tis they alone fond hope maintain. 

 Thou easy fool's chief favorite ; 

 Thou fawning slave to slaves, that still remains 



In galleys, dungeons, and in chains ; 

 Or with a whining lover lov'st to play, 

 With treach'rous art 

 Fanning his heart, 

 A. greater slave by far, than they 

 Who in worst durance wear their age away. 

 Thou, whose ambition mounts no higher, 

 Nor does to greater fame aspire, 

 Than to be ever found a liar : 

 Thou treach'rous fiend, deluding shade. 

 Who would with such a phantom be betray'd, 

 By whom the wretched are at last more wretched made. 



Yet once, I must confess, I was 

 Such an overweening ass, 



