Three 'prenticeships have past 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;

176

But ah! to me descent allots

No acres, no maternal 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?

Six feet by two of mould and

When I am dust and bone.

Alas!

grass

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
And sum up my returns.

gaze,

I know where great estates descend
That here is Boyhood's legal end,
And easily can comprehend

How "Manors make the Man."

for I was not born

But as me,

To quit-rent 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 bequeath
In earth, or waters underneath,
And in all candor let me breathe,
I do not want to die.

178

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 anything,

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!