Classic Poem

Today it is my natal day,
Three 'prenticeships have passed away,
A part in work, a part in play,
Since I was bound to life!
This first of May I come of age,
A man, I enter on the stage
Where human passions fret and rage,
To mingle in the strife.

It ought to be a happy date,
My friends, they all congratulate
That I am come to " Man's Estate, "
To some, a grand event;
But ah! to me descent allots
No acres, no paternal spots
In Beds, Bucks, Herts, Wilts, Essex, Notts,
Hants, Oxon, Berks, or Kent.

From John o'Groat's to Land's End search,
I have not one rod, pole, or perch,
To pay my rent, or tithe to church,
That I can call my own.
Not common-right for goose or ass;
Then what is Man's Estate? Alas!
Six feet by two of mould and grass
When I am dust and bone.

Reserve the feast! The board forsake!
Ne'er tap the wine — don't cut the cake,
No toasts or foolish speeches make,
At which my reason spurns.
Before this happy term, you praise,
And prate about returns and days,
Just o'er my vacant rent-roll gaze,
And sum up my returns.

I know where great estates descend
That here is Boyhood's legal end,
And easily can comprehend
How " Manors make the Man. "
But as for me, I was not born
To quitrent of a peppercorn,
And gain no ground this blessed morn
From Beersheba to Dan.

No barrels broach — no bonfires make!
To roast a bullock for my sake,
Who in the country have no stake,
Would be too like a quiz;
No banners hoist — let off no gun —
Pitch no marquee — devise no fun —
But think when man is Twenty-One
What new delights are his!

What is the moral legal fact —
Of age to day, I'm free to act
For self — free, namely, to contract
Engagements, bonds, and debts;
I'm free to give my I O U,
Sign, draw, accept, as majors do;
And free to lose my freedom too
For want of due assets.

I am of age, to ask Miss Ball,
Or that great heiress, Miss Duval,
To go to church, hump, squint, and all,
And be my own for life.
But put such reasons on their shelves,
To tell the truth between ourselves,
I'm one of those contented elves
Who do not want a wife.

What else belongs to Manhood still?
I'm old enough to make my will
With valid clause and codicil
Before in turf I lie.
But I have nothing to bequeathe
In earth, or waters underneath,
And in all candour let me breathe,
I do not want to die.

Away! if this be Manhood's forte,
Put by the sherry and the port —
No ring of bells — no rustic sport —
No dance — no merry pipes!
No flowery garlands — no bouquet —
No Birthday Ode to sing or say —
To me it seems this is a day
For bread and cheese and swipes.

To justify the festive cup
What horrors here are conjured up!
What things of bitter bite and sup,
Poor wretched Twenty-One's!
No landed lumps, but frumps and humps,
(Discretion's Days are far from trumps)
Domestic discord, dowdies, dumps,
Death, dockets, debts, and duns!

If you must drink, oh drink " the King "
Reform — the Church — the Press — the Ring,
Drink Aldgate Pump — or any thing,
Before a toast like this!
Nay, tell me, coming thus of age,
And turning o'er this sorry page,
Was young Nineteen so far from sage?
Or young Eighteen from bliss?

Till this dull, cold, wet, happy morn —
No sign of May about the thorn, —
Were Love and Bacchus both unborn?
Had Beauty not a shape?
Make answer, sweet Kate Finnerty!
Make answer, lads of Trinity!
Who sipped with me Divinity,
And quaffed the ruby grape!

No flummery then from flowery lips,
No three times three and hip-hip-hips,
Because I'm ripe and full of pips —
I like a little green.
To put me on my solemn oath,
If sweep-like I could stop my growth
I would remain, and nothing loth,
A boy — about nineteen.

My friends, excuse me these rebukes!
Were I a monarch's son, or duke's,
Go to the Vatican of Meux
And broach his biggest barrels —
Impale whole elephants on spits —
Ring Tom of Lincoln till he splits,
And dance into St. Vitus' fits,
And break your winds with carols!

But ah! too well you know my lot,
Ancestral acres greet me not,
My freehold's in a garden-pot,
And barely worth a pin.
Away then with all festive stuff!
Let Robins advertise and puff
My " Man's Estate, " I'm sure enough
I shall not buy it in.