Content thy home be mine


 
Content thy home be mine
Do not my suit disdain
They who prefer the worlds to thine
Shall find it false & vain
From broken hopes & storms I flye
To hide me in thy peaceful sky

The flatterers meet with smiles
The cunning find their friends
Without I made my pilgrimage         
& so met small amends
I looked on fame as merits plea
Twas spring but winter frowned on me

To cringe to menial slaves
To worship titled power
To bend the knee to knaves
The price of earthly dower
Is what I neer was taught to pay
So empty [that] Ive turned away

Where pleasing is to flatter
Where loving is to hate
To praise what we at heart abuse
In love & church & state
This is the worlds but not my game
So poor I am without the shame

Tho flattery findeth friends
In every grade & state
& telling truth offends
The lowly & the great
Truth when the worst is bye shall rise
When follys vapour stinks & flyes

Prides pomps are shadows all
& Titles honours toys
Great births in merits oft are small
& all their praise but noise
Rainbows upon the skyes of May
Fade soon but scarce so soon as they

Then sweet content be thine to call
My sorrows as thy due
For grief is natural to all
As is to night the dew
As disappointed hopes decay
My heart shall struggle & be gay

As hopes from earth shall disappear
With thee Ill not despair
For thou canst look at heaven & see
The vagrant waiting there
& while thou smilest I shall see 
Thy lives last gift the best shall be

An amazing poem I transcribed in the Peterborough Archives. I could not find it published anywhere, so with Professor Eric's encouragement I published it myself in 'Hidden Treasures' (2016) - now in its 2nd edition (2019) - £6 (post free to the UK).


Early Morning Ploughboy

I thought I was up sooner than usual & before morning was on the stir out of doors     but I am pleasantly disappointed by the whistle of the ploughboy past the window making himself merry & trying to make the dull weather dance to a very pleasant tune which I know well & yet cannot recollect the song      but there are hundreds of these pleasant tunes familiar to the plough & the splashing stream & the little fields of spring that have lain out the brown rest of winter & grew into mirth with the sprouting grain    the cheep(?) of the sky lark    & the old songs & ballads that even accompany field(?) happiness in following the plough – by neither head(?) known   or noticed    by all the world beside

Pet MS B6 p99

The Tale of Fisher Man

A flight of fancy from John Clare
(recently uncovered)

 

When we recieve a favour from fortune we ought to make use of it as if it was the last we should meet with

 

Pet MS A18 p R254

Pet MS A42 p118 has ‘great’ inserted before ‘favour

 

 

A young fisherman who lived near the sea was very industrious & very thriving in his industry   but he thirsted after more wealth the possesion of which was his happ[i]ness     he had a cottage & land but he thought happiness dwelt in a pallace    who when he did ever so well he wished to do better     he was ever merry as a fisherman but he thought he should be happy as a gentleman

 

& rowing [on the sea] full of these fancys of [wealth]     one fine morning he   by accident   meet with an old man in a very old fashioned boat     the young man was going speedily with wind & tide but the old man was going as speedily against both  & the young man was astonished & thought if he had such a boat he should be next to a gentleman     ‘should you’    said the old man   tho the young fellows thoughts never rose so high as a whisper   yet the old man knew    & ‘if you should like my boat’   continued he   ‘you shall have it in exchange for yours & if [you] mind you may then very soon be a gentleman tho for my part I would rather have your lot then that of a gentlemans    for remember’ said the old man ‘the gods give mortals the liberty to amass riches but leave the use of them entirely to their own discretion &what is one mans food is another mans poison   as wants increase with means & temptations increse with pleasures’ – 

 

‘I change’   said the young [man] cutting the old mans story [short]   & the old man laughed loud as he leapt in to the young mans boat & as the young man got into his   the old man shook his head & bid him good speed – when they instantly parted the old man sped [at] a horse gallop with wind & tide   & the young man at double speed against both     this was the very contrary way to which he wished to proceed & he insatantly seized the rudder to manage the boat    when to his utter astonishment the boat shot plump down into the bottom of the sea as fast & head foremost as a race horse could gallop down the steep side of mount Atlas [into the valleys beneath it]    & fall as far    went the young man down & down until at last he rested on the sands & bottom of the immense ocean

 

he was astonished even to fear & saw the waters for miles above him & miles about him & yet he breathed as free from choaking as he did before he started [while dibbing cabbages in his garden]     how it could be he could not tell but so it was & as his eyes began to clear of their supprise as began to look about him to see the strange country he was in     & every thing was new & nothing like what he had seen before     there were large forrests as high as his own wood but leafey & when he came to examine them they were of pearls & corral    there were monsters of extradinary size & shape 

 

& what he had never expected to have accosted a lady approached him   not very handsome to be sure   for she had green hair   red eyes   & teeth of odd shape   yet she seemed young & well shaped     he accosted her but she seemed not to understand him & stooping as if to amuse her self by picking up things from the sand   she offered him a handful    & they were guineas & Portugal dollars & bright as if minted but yesterday     

 

he lay all this time leaning on his rudder & accepting them eagerly & was for leaping out to get more   but the moment he left the rudder    that moment   the boat sprang upward as light as an eggshell & was at the top of the sea in a thought    & at the mooring before his own cottage before he could think twice about the matter     as he leapt ashore with his money which    tho the lady held it in her hand    was as much as he could haul out in an old fish crail

 

his wife grew fearful at the sight of so much money & more fearful when he related the story   so he resolved not to let her know the extent of his treasure     he counted & counted & all to no purpose for it was without numbe[r]   & without end     so before he went [to] bed a thought struck him that the old man might call again & exchange boat[s]   & he instantly resolved to secure the rudder to make use of another oppertunity to get more    for tho he was now a gentleman    another such a hawl might make him a Lord     & the rudder was secured accordingly

 

he now got weary of fishing & looked out for amusments suitable to his station     his altered condition soon got into full cry   like a fox chase    & the county round was running over with 

guesses & surmises    for his money was wasted in foolish bargains & scattered like chaff before the wind   as he knew there was plenty [more] where that came from     he bought a horse & then he coveted a gig    & then he resolved on a coach      the very next sea voyage he made in his new boat   & he determed after a while to build a ship & become [a] merchant    but these large thoughts & extravagant notions just grew up in his thoughts as the last of his treasures became exausted     

 

so he out with his rudder & off to sea   where he was not long in dileberating before he laid hold of the rudder & down he went to the bottom   swifter then a shooting star from the sky     but this was not the spot on which he at first alighted   nor could he find it if he tryed    as there was nothing on the sea to mark – the scenes here was very different     the monsters were more numorious but much less & the groves

 

< there is a break in the manuscript at this point >

 

It resumes…

 

her journey     so she set out on her travels & passed for a fine woman     she took plenty of money & cloaths with her & even thought it rudeness to offer kindness without asking & never took it     so she went on & never talked to any one & thought of nothing but the prince & the journey     she soon found herself in the great forrest & when she could get no further she did as her sister bid her   but the bushes would not part & the brambles did not heed her fine cloaths   but tore her gown & would not let her go on     she did not know what to do & tryed to get back   when a great beast rushed past her & shook the trees & broke down the bushes     she was afraid but went on & met the old man

 

she soon got sight of the fine house & troops of men passed her & took no notice    & when she got there a man opened the gate    before she could ask anybody   & led her into the palace     what she saw would have written a book & she would soon have been lost   but a guide showed her the way     she thought she saw the old man go out of one of the rooms   who had got there before her

 

she was surprised to find a garden in the middle of the hall   & finer flowers then she had ever seen   when a fine man came out of a harbour & took her by the hand & bade her sit down     he talked to her as if he had known her for years & bade her make herself at home     & read her delightful stories out of books     every thing was brought [to] her before she seemed to want it   & when he took her into the house the servants waited on her as if she had been there before     & when she got up in a morning the finest dresses where laid ready   & she never knew how they were brought   & books where always laid on the table to read     the prince told her to take no notice of any body & she only thought of home now & then   & said nothing

 

Pet MS A18 p R254

Pet MS A42 p18

Pet MS B9 p51-3

 

 

For the tale of fisherman

 

It is a common saying that our wants increases with our means but it is a truer fact that our wants increase faster then our means -- & leave us in debt.

 

Pet MS A18 p R254

 

He was always thinking about being a gentleman & he thought if he could find a few pounds in a wreck to bring him a new suit of cloaths he should be one   & he soon found a treasure that not only bought him a suit   but purchases a lease of his cottage in the bargain   & now all that he wanted to make him a gentleman was anew boat     in this he was not long dissapointed for { blank ] old man

 

Pet MS A18 p R254

Morning




















O now the crimson east its fire streak burning 


Tempts me to wander neath the blushing morn 


Winding the zig zag lane turning & turning 


As winds the crooked fences wilderd thorn 


O wheres the eye can gaze upon the dawn 
 

That flushes yon blue sky of cloudless heaven 


& gilds the prospect round below—what eye 


Can look upon the beautys morn has given 


& look unmovd, sure neer a soul thats living 


The soul must be extinct who passes bye 


I cannot pass the very bramble weeping 


Neath dewy tear drops that its spears surround 


Like harlots mockery on the wan cheek creeping 


Gilding the poison that is meant to wound 


I cannot pass the bent ere gales have shaken 


Its transient crowning off each point adorning 


But all the feelings of my soul awaken 


To own the witcheries of most lovley morning 



EP II 213

from 'Walking with John Clare'

Arbour Editions (2018)

The 'Glorious' 12th? One of Clare's many letters to a Newspaper


TO THE HEDITER

 

Vestminster Pit, Sunday

 

            Sar – To-day bein vat a Lawyer’s Clarke as cums to my Pit calls a “die ease num” (by vich I suppose he means a day on vich my bear and bajjer’s has an easy time of it,) I’ve mended the old pen as I rote all my former yepissels with, and have tuk it up to call yure attenshon to summut as I hav jest red in the Bishop’s paper.  Here is it.

 

GRAND SHOOTING PARTY – Friday se’nnights and Monday week were slaughtering days in the home coverts at Whersted Lodge, the seat of Lord Granville, near Ipswich.   On Friday there were killed with guns, 2 partridges, 151 pheasants, 6 woodcocks, 70 hares, and 36 rabbits – total 265.  And on Monday, with 12 guns, 4 partridges, 433 pheasants, 4 woodcocks, 320 hares, and 58 rabits – total 819.  Grand total, 1,084.

 

            The following list has been handed to us, as containing the number of heads of games killed on Monday by the NOBLEMEN and GENTLEMEN respectively.  It does not exactly correspond with the statement above, which we have no doubt is correct, but we suppose it included THE WOUNDED BIRDS, which were not picked up till the next day!

 

Duke of York                          128  

Duke of Wellington                120 

Lord Granville                        48       

Hon. Mr. Greville                  120       

Hon. Mr. De Roos                 105       

Hon. Mr. Anson                     88                   

Hon. Mr. Lamb                     78

Hon. Mr. Montague              70

Hon. Mr. Ponsonby               55

Hon. Mr. Arbuthnot              26

Sir Robt. Harland, bart           45

Rev. Mr. Capper                     41

Total                                       924

 

            Vel sir, vat do you think of that?  Theres 819 poor annemels kild in vun day, and 105 VOUNDED – picked up in the voods the next day – left to die of broken legs and vings!

 

            And vat sort of annemels vas they, Ser? – tame annemals, vat vas fed in “the Home Coverts” till they was as tame as barn dore fouls; pretty annemals, Ser, innocent annemals; annemals as feel as much as Mr. MARTIN.  And hoo vas it as kild and vounded them, Ser?  Vy a Rial Dook, a common Dook, a Lord, seven HONNORABELS, a Barrownite, and a REVEREND Minister of that religgon, vich Mrs. Fry told vun of our chaps tuther day in Newgate was a religgon of kindness, of mercy, and of luv?

 

            And vy did they commit this “slaughter?” – Vat vas there motiv for this butchery?  Ile tell you, Ser. – Pleshure! Greet pleshure, Ser!  There was the pleshure of eatin a few of em; there was the pleshure of laying rich people, as havvent got no “home coverts”, under the sort of Hobblegashon vich they think it to reserve a present of game from a Dook or a Lord; there was the pleshure of boastin about there shuting, and of coutin the number as died at vunce, and the number as died by degrees in the voods; there was the pleshure of lettin the Rail Dook shute the most!  -- that’s a pleshure as may be varth sumthing sum day, and, last of all there vas the pleshure of having their names in the Newspaper.  I dont say much of that, for its a pleshure to me, and yure verry good to indulge me in it.

 

            But I jest vant to ask MR. MARTIN vat he thinks of all this?  I no he vont do nothin, but I vant to no vat he thinks?  I jest vant to no vether he thinks there’s any jestice in his Hact of Parliament, vich settels a donkey-boy in a jiffey, and lets all them NOBS commit as much cruelty as ever they like?  Lord, O Lord, vat at a wurld this is!  Here’s he as will be the Had of the Law; here’s Dooks, Lords, Barrownites, and Honnorabels, all law-makers themselves; here’s Parson-Magistrates, as upholds the laws and executes em,  as preeches againste cruelty, and sends a poor man to the mill for pickin up a ded hare vich had dies of a mortificashun caused by vun of theer own guns.

 

            Here’s a set of Rial, Nobel, Honnorabel, Vurthy, Reverrent Gentlemen, going out to a “slaughtering day in the home coverts” to kill 819 annemals, as never did em eny harm, and to vound 105 more, all for pleshure.  And here is the Bishops Paper, vat rites for the shuvvels hats, and vat so often blackards “the ignorant, cruel, feroshous, lower-orders,” publisahin a fine boastien descriptishon of the “slaughtering day,” and calculatin the number as vas kild outrite and the number as died of slow lingerrin pain in the voods, and vas picked up the next day “by the Noblemen and Gentlemen!”

 

            A happy new yeer to you, ser, and if you puts this in, you’ll be, as yushall, a frend to the Poor  -- Yure most obedient sarvent to command,

 

                                    ‘CHARLEY EASTUP’


Enclosure



Far spread the moory ground a level scene
Bespread with rush & one eternal green

That never felt the rage of blundering plough

Though centuries wreathed spring blossoms on its brow

Autumn met plains that stretched them far away

In unchecked shadows of green brown & grey

 

Unbounded freedom ruled the wandering scene

No fence of ownership crept in between

To hide the prospect from the gazing eye

Its only bondage was the circling sky

A mighty flat undwarfed by bush & tree

Spread its faint shadow of immensity

 

& lost itself which seemed to eke its bounds

In the blue mist the horizons edge surrounds

Now this sweet vision of my boyish hours

Free as spring clouds & wild as forest flowers

Is faded all—a hope that blossomed free

& hath been once as it no more shall be

 

Enclosure came & trampled on the grave

Of labours rights & left the poor a slave

& memorys pride ere want to wealth did bow

Is both the shadow & the substance now

The sheep & cows were free to range as then

Where change might prompt nor felt the bonds of men

 

Cows went & came with every morn and night

To the wild pasture as their common right

& sheep unfolded with the rising sun

Heard the swains shout & felt their freedom won

Tracked the red fallow field & heath & plain

Or sought the brook to drink & roamed again

 

While the glad shepherd traced their tracks along

Free as the lark & happy as her song

But now alls fled & flats of many a dye

That seemed to lengthen with the following eye

Moors losing from the sight far smooth & blea

Where swopt the plover in its pleasure free

 

Are banished now with heaths once wild & gay

As poets visions of lifes early day

Like mighty giants of their limbs bereft

The skybound wastes in mangled garbs are left

Fence meeting fence in owners little bounds

Of field & meadow large as garden-grounds

 

In little parcels little minds to please

With men & flocks imprisoned ill at ease

For with the poor scared freedom bade farewell

& fortune-hunters totter where they fell

They dreamed of riches in the rebel scheme

& find too truly that they did but dream

 

MP II 347

Dancing oak trees round & round

[Image: Anne Lee]

The wood is sweet - I love it well
In spending there my leisure hours
To seek the snail its painted shell
& look about for curious flowers
Or neath the hazels leafy thatch
On a stulp or mossy ground
Little squirrels gambols watch
Dancing oak trees round & round

Green was the shade - I love the woods
When autumns wind is mourning loud
To see the leaves float on the floods
Dead within their yellow shroud
The wood was then in glory spread -
I love the browning bough to see
That litters autumns dying bed -
Her latest sigh is dear to me

Neath a spreading shady oak
For awhile to muse I lay
From its grains a bough I broke
To fan the teasing flies away
Then I sought the woodland side
Cool the breeze my face did meet
& the shade the sun did hide
Though twas hot it seemed sweet

Leonard Clark (ed)
John Clare (Longman's Poetry Library, 1969)