ANCIENT POEMS, BALLADS, &c. POEMS. I. The Vanities of Life. THE following verses were copied by John Clare, the Northamptonshire peasant, from a M.S. on the fly-leaves of an old book in the possession of a poor man, and entitled "The World's best Wealth; a Collection of choice Councils in Verse and Prose. Printed for A. Bettesworth, at the Red Lion in Paternoster-row, 1720." They were in a "crabbed, quaint hand, and difficult to decypher." Clare remitted the poem to Montgomery, the author of "The World before the Flood," &c. &c., by whom it was published in the Sheffield Iris. Montgomery's criticism is as follows:-"long as the poem appears to the eye, it will abundantly repay the pleasure of perusal, being full of condensed and admirable thought, as well as diversified with exuberant imagery, and embellished with peculiar felicity of language: the moral points in the closing couplets of the stanzas are often powerfully enforced." The editor thinks that most readers will agree in the justice of Montgomery's remarks. He has not been able to discover any old printed copy of the poem, which, as Clare supposes, was probably written about the commencement of the 18th century; the unknown author appears to have been a person deeply imbued with the spirit and train of thought of the popular devotional writers of the preceding centúry, as Herbert, Quarles, &c., but B who had modelled his smoother and more elegant versification after that of the poetic school of his own times. Vanity of vanities, all is vanity."--SOLOMON. WHAT are life's joys and gains? On which thy mind is bent, Is worth the trouble spent. Is pride thy heart's desire? Is power thy climbing aim? Is wealth thy restless game? Time's touchstone shall destroy, And, like base coin, prove all Dost think that pride exalts Which reason will despise? Like walking weather-cocks? The shadow by thy side Becomes thy ape, and mocks. Dost think that power's disguise Can make thee mighty seem? It may in folly's eyes, But not in worth's esteem: When all that thou canst ask, And all that she can give, Is but a paltry mask Which tyrants wear and live. Go, let thy fancies range And ramble where they may; View power in every change, And what is the display? -The country magistrate, The lowest shade in power, To rulers of the state, The meteors of an hour:— View all, and mark the end Of every proud extreme, Where flattery turns a friend, And counterfeits esteem; Where worth is aped in show, That doth her name purloin, Like toys of golden glow Ambition's haughty nod, With fancies may deceive, Nay, tell thee thou'rt a god,And wilt thou such believe? Go, bid the seas be dry, Dost thou possess the dower And know thyself a fool, Nor tyrant-like pursue Where He alone should rule. Dost think, when wealth is won, Thy heart has its desire? Hold ice up to the sun, And wax before the fire ; Nor triumph o'er the reign Which they so soon resign; In this world weigh the gain, Insurance safe is thine. Dost think life's peace secure To twist a cord of sand, Hold water in a sieve, Nor give such tales the lie, And still thine own believe.. |