From The Stuffed Owl

Browsing in D.B. Wyndham Lewis's anthology I was reminded of this masterpiece by the Reverend Cornelius Whur (1782-1853). It's unfair to ridicule such things, but irresistible.

The Female Friend

In this imperfect, gloomy scene
Of complicated ill,
How rarely is a day serene,
The throbbing bosom still!
Will not a beauteous landscape bright,
Or music's soothing sound,
Console the heart, afford delight,
And throw sweet peace around?
They may, but never comfort lend
Like an accomplish'd female friend!

With such a friend, the social hour
In sweetest pleasure glides;
There is in female charms a power
Which lastingly abides—
The fragrance of the blushing rose,
Its tints and splendid hue,
Will with the season decompose,
And pass as flitting dew;
On firmer ties his joys depend
Who has a polish'd female friend!

The pleasures which from thence arise
Surpass the blooming flower,
For though it opens to the skies,
It closes in an hour!
Its sweetness is of transient date,
Its varied beauties cease—
They can no lasting joys create,
Impart no lasting peace;
While both arise, and duly blend
In an accomplish'd female friend!

As orbs revolve and years recede,
As seasons onward roll,
The fancy may on beauties feed,
With discontented soul!
A thousand objects bright and fair
May for a moment shine,
Yet many a sigh and many a tear
But mark their swift decline;
While lasting joys the man attend
Who has a faithful female friend!