Those friends, thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel.
This master touch of the great bard of human nature will never cease to wake an echo of sympathy in the heart of man. It is so suggestive of our experiences of loyalty, reliability, and love that it seems to echo the whole diapason of human friendship.
Tried friends! What a dear, homely, humble, promiscuous group of people they usually are, bearing no mark of rank save that of worth. Who are they? Not those who in the sunny hours have sipped with us the nectar of prosperity, and winged themselves away when clouds appeared. Not those who have joyously voyaged with us while favoring winds sped us over safe waters, and then left us to pilot our way alone among the dangers of the shoals and shallows, but loyal friends who have stood between us and the snares of success; who with loving but firm hands have uncovered the subtle enemy ambushed in the Midas touch, even though perchance it was heaping high for us the coffers of a millionaire; brave friends who have loved us enough to point out the danger in the ruler's sceptre at the moment when the goal of our ambition,—popularity and power,—was within our grasp; clear-sighted friends who silenced the silver tongue that dared to pervert righteous judgment through the appeal to impulse and emotion.
