 | Dartmoor, and other poems |  |
88
THE MISER's WILL.
A CONVERSATIONAL POEM, FOUNDED ON FACT.
Old
Scrape-all, who had long been ailing,
Was at a trembling debtor railing,
Threat'ning if he a mite should fail
To whelm him in a neighbouring jail,
When Blunt, his neighbour, pass'd that way,
The debtor saw and slipped away.
Old Scrape-all thus, with sigh profound,
And wheezing cough, a church-yard sound!
Address'd, with lifted hand, his friend—
I think my griefs will never end!
The hog that wallows in his sty
Has thrice more happiness than I!
My care is now, whilst others sleep,
Not, how to gain, but how to keep.
Was at a trembling debtor railing,
Threat'ning if he a mite should fail
To whelm him in a neighbouring jail,
When Blunt, his neighbour, pass'd that way,
The debtor saw and slipped away.
Old Scrape-all thus, with sigh profound,
And wheezing cough, a church-yard sound!
Address'd, with lifted hand, his friend—
I think my griefs will never end!
The hog that wallows in his sty
Has thrice more happiness than I!
My care is now, whilst others sleep,
Not, how to gain, but how to keep.
89
Said Blunt—As usual, still, I see,
Brimful of woes and misery!—
Riches—the thing which others bless,
To you bring nought but wretchedness!
But tho' your purse is deep and strong,
Old man, you cannot hold it long;
Your years on years have so increased.
You must be four-score, now, at least.
Brimful of woes and misery!—
Riches—the thing which others bless,
To you bring nought but wretchedness!
But tho' your purse is deep and strong,
Old man, you cannot hold it long;
Your years on years have so increased.
You must be four-score, now, at least.
Speak louder, friend, my ears do fail,
I'm grown as deaf as a door-nail.—
I say, your years have so increased,
You must be four-score, now, at least.
I'm grown as deaf as a door-nail.—
I say, your years have so increased,
You must be four-score, now, at least.
Hold, hold! (he cried) you're far away!
I am but seventy-nine, this day,
And think, whatever others fear,
I still may reach my hundredth year!
I am but seventy-nine, this day,
And think, whatever others fear,
I still may reach my hundredth year!
Said Blunt, Now make me your confessor!
Pray, whom do you keep your riches for?
That mighty hoard of rusty pelf?—
Whom for! cried Scrape-all—for myself!
And when, at length, I die—five-score
Or thereabouts,—say, ten years more,
My wealth, I do design, shall be
Placed in my coffin, close by me;—
'Tis right, you know, that friends should lie
Near to each other when they die!
Pray, whom do you keep your riches for?
90
Whom for! cried Scrape-all—for myself!
And when, at length, I die—five-score
Or thereabouts,—say, ten years more,
My wealth, I do design, shall be
Placed in my coffin, close by me;—
'Tis right, you know, that friends should lie
Near to each other when they die!
Nay, answer'd Blunt, when you are dead,
Authority, you'll find, is fled;
Some one, no doubt, will still contrive
To keep your slumbering gold alive.—
Make! make, your will!—Howe'er it grieve,
You must your all, to some one leave!
Authority, you'll find, is fled;
Some one, no doubt, will still contrive
To keep your slumbering gold alive.—
Make! make, your will!—Howe'er it grieve,
You must your all, to some one leave!
What! make my will! My all bestow
On some one else? No! neighbour, no!
I'll be, whilst these my hands can hold,
The only keeper of my gold;
From night to morn, from morn to night,
I'll keep it close and hold it tight!
On some one else? No! neighbour, no!
I'll be, whilst these my hands can hold,
The only keeper of my gold;
From night to morn, from morn to night,
I'll keep it close and hold it tight!
91
You rightly speak, you are no more
Than—keeper to your golden store;
But when you die, as die you must,
To whom will you bequeath your trust?—
Than—keeper to your golden store;
But when you die, as die you must,
To whom will you bequeath your trust?—
To No one! Scrape-all, stern replied!
The whole, I'll in my coffin hide!
Since Elwes's dead there's no one living
Who knows the value of a shilling!
Were he alive—(it is my whim)
That virtuous man! I'd give it him;
But all, except my honour'd friend,
Believe that money's made to spend!
Therefore, in spite of folly's scoffing,
I'll put my money in my coffin!—
I, who have scraped for fifty years,
With ceaseless toil, and hourly fears,
Shall I give all away, at last?
No! neighbour, no! I'll hold it fast!
The whole, I'll in my coffin hide!
Since Elwes's dead there's no one living
Who knows the value of a shilling!
Were he alive—(it is my whim)
That virtuous man! I'd give it him;
But all, except my honour'd friend,
Believe that money's made to spend!
Therefore, in spite of folly's scoffing,
I'll put my money in my coffin!—
I, who have scraped for fifty years,
With ceaseless toil, and hourly fears,
Shall I give all away, at last?
No! neighbour, no! I'll hold it fast!
Strive how you will, your wealth to save,
You cannot hold it in the grave!
Altho', old man! it rend your heart,
Your gold and you, at length must part!
You cannot hold it in the grave!
92
Your gold and you, at length must part!
Said Scrape-all, sorrowful and slow,
Well then! come thirty years, or so,
And I will think on this affair,
And, if needs be, appoint my heir.
Well then! come thirty years, or so,
And I will think on this affair,
And, if needs be, appoint my heir.
Cried Blunt, No moment lose! you now
Your head with age and palsy bow!—
I guess, when Jack, your wealth has got,
He soon will spend it all! A sot!
And ere you've closed your eyes a year,
Behind a prison-grate appear!
Your head with age and palsy bow!—
I guess, when Jack, your wealth has got,
He soon will spend it all! A sot!
And ere you've closed your eyes a year,
Behind a prison-grate appear!
My spend-thrift Nephew, here, I swear,
Shall never be rich Scrape-all's heir!
Shall never be rich Scrape-all's heir!
Then make your will! or, 'twill be so!
He'll have it all, when you are low!
He'll have it all, when you are low!
What! make my will just in my prime,
'Twould be to die before my time!
'Twould be to die before my time!
93
Nay, Blunt replied, be well content!
You will not die, nor Jack lament
The sooner for this instrument.
And I would more in candour say—
Do good, friend Scrape-all, while you may!
Or else, when dead, your wealth bestow;—
(You will not see the money go!—)
Erect, and you will gain renown,
A school, within your native town;
Then build a hospital, that fame,
When you are dead, may bless your name;—
Thus, when has ceased your mortal reign,
In generous deeds, you'll live again.—
For you 'twill be a small bequest,
Your nephew then may spend the rest.
You will not die, nor Jack lament
The sooner for this instrument.
And I would more in candour say—
Do good, friend Scrape-all, while you may!
Or else, when dead, your wealth bestow;—
(You will not see the money go!—)
Erect, and you will gain renown,
A school, within your native town;
Then build a hospital, that fame,
When you are dead, may bless your name;—
Thus, when has ceased your mortal reign,
In generous deeds, you'll live again.—
For you 'twill be a small bequest,
Your nephew then may spend the rest.
Cried Scrape-all, Never, whilst I live,
Will I a mite to any give!
And having saved so long, can I
Give all, for nothing! when I die?
No, no! good neighbour, to the last,
With bolt and bar! I'll hold it fast!—
And as I cannot give, when dead,
The law shall give it in my stead!—
But as for Jack, again I swear,
The rogue shall never be my heir!—
Will I a mite to any give!
And having saved so long, can I
Give all, for nothing! when I die?
No, no! good neighbour, to the last,
With bolt and bar! I'll hold it fast!—
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The law shall give it in my stead!—
But as for Jack, again I swear,
The rogue shall never be my heir!—
One year is past!—Let thirst of gold
Its object, and its end behold!—
Whilst none their diff'rent lots bewail—
Scrape-all is dead! and, Jack's in jail!!
Its object, and its end behold!—
Whilst none their diff'rent lots bewail—
Scrape-all is dead! and, Jack's in jail!!
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