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Title: The Life And Age Of Man
Author: Anonymous (Poetry's author) [
More Titles by Anonymous (Poetry's author)]
[From one of Thackeray's Catalogues, preserved in the British Museum, it appears that The Life and Age of Man was one of the productions printed by him at the 'Angel in Duck Lane, London.' Thackeray's imprint is found attached to broadsides published between 1672 and 1688, and he probably commenced printing soon after the accession of Charles II. The present reprint, the correctness of which is very questionable, is taken from a modern broadside, the editor not having been fortunate enough to meet with any earlier edition. This old poem is said to have been a great favourite with the father of Robert Burns.]
In prime of years, when I was young,
I took delight in youthful ways,
Not knowing then what did belong
Unto the pleasures of those days.
At seven years old I was a child,
And subject then to be beguiled.
At two times seven I went to learn
What discipline is taught at school:
When good from ill I could discern,
I thought myself no more a fool:
My parents were contriving than,
How I might live when I were man.
At three times seven I waxed wild,
When manhood led me to be bold;
I thought myself no more a child,
My own conceit it so me told:
Then did I venture far and near,
To buy delight at price full dear.
At four times seven I take a wife,
And leave off all my wanton ways,
Thinking thereby perhaps to thrive,
And save myself from sad disgrace.
So farewell my companions all,
For other business doth me call.
At five times seven I must hard strive,
What I could gain by mighty skill;
But still against the stream I drive,
And bowl up stones against the hill;
The more I laboured might and main,
The more I strove against the stream.
At six times seven all covetise
Began to harbour in my breast;
My mind still then contriving was
How I might gain this worldly wealth;
To purchase lands and live on them,
So make my children mighty men.
At seven times seven all worldly thought
Began to harbour in my brain;
Then did I drink a heavy draught
Of water of experience plain;
There none so ready was as I,
To purchase bargains, sell, or buy.
At eight times seven I waxed old,
And took myself unto my rest,
Neighbours then sought my counsel bold,
And I was held in great request;
But age did so abate my strength,
That I was forced to yield at length.
At nine times seven take my leave
Of former vain delights must I;
It then full sorely did me grieve -
I fetched many a heavy sigh;
To rise up early, and sit up late,
My former life, I loathe and hate.
At ten times seven my glass is run,
And I poor silly man must die;
I looked up, and saw the sun
Had overcome the crystal sky.
So now I must this world forsake,
Another man my place must take.
Now you may see, as in a glass,
The whole estate of mortal men;
How they from seven to seven do pass,
Until they are threescore and ten;
And when their glass is fully run,
They must leave off as they begun.
[The end]
Anonymous's poem: Life And Age Of Man
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