From all the vain formality of fools,
    An odious task of arbitrary rules;
    The ruffling cares which the vex’d soul annoy,
    The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy,
    The visionary bliss the world can lend,
    The insidious foe, and false designing friend,
    The seven-fold fury of Xantippe’s soul,
    And S——­’s rage that burns without controul;
    I’d live retir’d, contented, and serene,
    Forgot, unknown, unenvied and unseen.

    Yet not a real hermitage I’d chuse,
    Nor wish to live from all the world recluse;
    But with a friend sometimes unbend the soul,
    In social converse, o’er the sprightly bowl. 
    With cheerful W——­, serene and wisely gay,
    I’d often pass the dancing hours away;
    He skill’d alike to profit and to please,
    Politely talks with unaffected ease;
    Sage in debate, and faithful to his trust,
    Mature in science, and severely just;
    Of soul diffusive, vast and unconfin’d,
    Breathing benevolence to all mankind;
    Cautious to censure, ready to commend,
    A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted friend: 
    In early youth fair wisdom’s paths he trod,
    In early youth a minister of God: 
    Each pupil lov’d him when at Yale he shone,
    And ev’ry bleeding bosom weeps him gone. 
    Dear A——­, too, should grace my rural seat,
    Forever welcome to the green retreat: 
    Heav’n for the cause of righteousness design’d
    His florid genius, and capacious mind: 
    Oft have I heard, amidst th’ adoring throng,
    Celestial truths devolving from his tongue;
    High o’er the list’ning audience seen him stand,
    Divinely speak, and graceful stretch his hand: 
    With such becoming grace and pompous sound,
    With long-rob’d senators encircled round,
    Before the Roman bar, while Rome was free,
    Nor bow’d to Caesar’s throne the servile knee;
    Immortal Tully pleads the patriot cause,
    While ev’ry tongue resounded his applause. 
    Next round my board should candid S——­ appear,
    Of manners gentle, and a friend sincere,
    Averse to discord party-rage and strife,
    He sails serenely down the stream of life. 
    With these three friends beneath a spreading shade,
    Where silver fountains murmur thro’ the glade;
    Or in cool grots, perfum’d with native flow’rs,
    In harmless mirth I’d spend the circling hours;
    Or gravely talk, or innocently sing,
    Or, in harmonious concert, strike the trembling string.