74 THE POEMS OF ANNE �And transitory Ills disarm; Chearing the delightful Day, When dispos'd to be more Gay, With Wit, from an unmeasured Store, To Woman ne'er allow'd before. What Nature, or refining Art, All that Fortune cou'd impart, Heaven did to Arminda send; Then gave her for ArdelicCs Friend: To her Cares the Cordial drop, 180 �Which else had overflow'd the Cup. So, when once the Son of Jess, Every Anguish did oppress, Hunted by all kinds of Ills, Like a Partridge on the Hills ; Trains were laid to catch his Life, Baited with a Royal Wife, From his House, and Country torn, Made a Heathen Prince's Scorn; Fate, to answer all these Harms, 190 �Threw a Friend into his Arms. Friendship still has been design'd, The Support of Human-kind; The safe Delight, the useful Bliss, The next World's Happiness, and this. Give then, O indulgent Fate ! Give a Friend in that Retreat (Tho' withdrawn from all the rest) Still a Clue, to reach my Breast. Let a Friend be still convey'd 200 �Thro' those Windings, and that Shade! �Where, may I remain secure, Waste, in humble Joys and pure, ��� �
