On Friends and Foes

I am no Homer's hero you all know;
I profess not generosity to a foe.
My generosity is to my friends,
That for their friendship I may make amends.
The generous to enemies promotes their ends,
And becomes the enemy and betrayer of his friends.

Anger and wrath my bosom rends:
I thought them the errors of friends.
But all my limbs with warmth glow:
I find them the errors of the foe.

If you play a game of chance, know, before you begin,
If you are benevolent you will never win.

Of Hayley's birth
Of H--'s birth this was the happy lot:
His mother on his father him begot.

On Hayley
To forgive enemies H-- does pretend,
Who never in his life forgave a friend,
And when he could not act upon my wife
Hired a villain to bereave my life.

To Hayley
Thy friendship oft has made my heart to ache:
Do be my enemy -- for friendship's sake.
On Hayley's Friendship
When H--y finds out what you cannot do,
That is the very thing he'll set you to;
If you break not your neck, 'tis not his fault;
But pecks of poison are not pecks of salt.

On Hayley the Pickthank
I write the rascal thanks, till he and I
With thanks and compliments are quite drawn dry.

My title as a genius thus is prov'd:
Not prais'd by Hayley, nor by Flaxman lov'd.

To Flaxman
You call me mad, 'tis folly to do so,
To seek to turn a madman to a foe.
If you think as you speak, you are an ass;
If you do not, you are but what you was.

To Flaxman
I mock thee not, though I by thee am mockèd;
Thou call'st me madman, but I call thee blockhead.

To Nancy Flaxman
How can I help thy husband's copying me?
Should that make difference 'twixt me and thee?

To Flaxman and Stothard
I found them blind: I taught them how to see;
And now they know neither themselves nor me.
'Tis excellent to turn a thorn to a pin,
A fool to a bolt, a knave to a glass of gin.
To Stothard
You all your youth observ'd the golden rule,
Till you're at last become the golden fool:
I sport with fortune, merry, blithe and gay,
Like to the lion sporting with his prey.
Take you the hide and horns which you may wear,
Mine is the flesh -- the bones may be your share.

Cromek speaks
I always take my judgement from a fool
Because his judgement is so very cool;
Not prejudiced by feelings great or small,
Amiable state! he cannot feel at all.

On Stothard
You say reserve and modesty he has,
Whose heart is iron, his head wood, and his face brass.
The fox, the owl, the beetle, and the bat
By sweet reserve and modesty get fat.

On Stothard
S--, in childhood, on the nursery floor,
Was extreme old and most extremely poor;
He has grown old, and rich, and what he will;
He is extreme old, and extreme poor still.

Mr. Stothard to Mr. Cromek
For Fortune's favours you your riches bring,
But Fortune says she gave you no such thing
Why should you be ungrateful to your friends,--
Sneaking and backbiting, and odds and ends?

Mr. Cromek to Mr. Stothard
Fortune favours the brave, old proverbs say;
But not with money; that is not the way.
Turn back! turn back! you travel all in vain;
Turn through the iron gate down Sneaking Lane.
On Cromek
Cr--loves artists as he loves his meat:
He loves the Art; but 'tis the art to cheat.

On Cromek
A petty sneaking knave I knew--
O! Mr. Cr--, how do ye do?

  By PanEris using Melati.

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