O Thou whose friendship is my joy and pride,
Whose virtues warm me, and whose precepts guide;
Thou, to whom greatness rightly understood,
Is but a larger power of being good;
Say, Poyntz, amidst the toils of anxious state,
Does not thy secret soul desire retreat?
Dost thou not wish (the task of glory done)
Thy busy life at length might be thy own;
That to thy lov'd Philosophy resign'd,
No care might ruffle thy unbended mind?
Just is the wish. For sure the happy meed,
To favour'd man by smiling heav'n decreed,
Is to reflect at ease on glorious pains,
And calmly to enjoy what Virtue gains.