No More Learning

IF, when fortune's wrong with bitter misery whelms thee,
Thou thy sad tear-scrawl'd letter, a mark to the
storm,
Send'st, and bid'st me to succour a stranded seaman
of Ocean,
Toss'd in foam, from death's door to return thee
again ;
Whom nor softly to rest love's tender sanctity
suffers, 5
Lost on a couch of lone slumber, unhappily lain ;
Nor with melody sweet of poets hoary the Muses
Cheer, while worn with grief nightly the soul is
awake :
Well-contented am I, that thou thy friendship avowest,
Ask'st the           of love from me, the pleasure of
1 hymns; 10
Yet lest all unnoted a kindred story bely thee,
Deeming, Mallius, I calls of humanity shun ;
Hear what a grief is mine, what storm of destiny
whelms me.