I am not the only Mal-Content: Alexander Pope Nr. 1

Alexander Pope, The Twickenham Pope, published, 1731.

Epistle to Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington

One of societies ‘friendly poets’, he had to apologise to Lord Burlington quite a lot. He got told off for innuendo- and must at times thought he was invulnerable. The situation he was in is that he was giving up his freedom to be a richer man (and to an extent more respected).

Not sure I agree with the rather sexist tone of the end of the first stanza, but Pope is certainly passionate and whether it be to do with sexual love or not what he is saying is it is never a good thing to be the ‘net loser.’

STANZA 1
‘Tis strange, the Miser should his cares employ,
To gain those Riches he can ne’er enjoy:
Is it less strange, the Prodigal should wast
His wealth, to purchase what he ne’er can taste?
Not for himself he sees, or hears, or eats;
Artists must chuse his Pictures, Music, Meats:
He buys from Topham, Drawings and Designs,
For Pembroke Statues, dirty Gods, and Coins;
Rare monkish Manuscripts for Hearne alone,
And Books for Mead, and Butterflies for Sloane.
Think we all these for himself? no more
Than his fine Wife, alas! or finer Whore.

STANZA 2
For what has Virro painted, built, and planted?
Only to show, how many Tastes he wanted.
What brought Sir Visto’s ill got wealth of waste?
Some Daemon whisper’d, ‘Visto! have a taste.’
Heav’n visits with a Taste the wealthy fool,
And needs no Rod but Ripley with a Rule.
See! sportive fate, to punish aukward pride,
Bids Bubo build, and send him such a Guide:
A standing sermon, at each year’s expense,
That never Coxcomb reach’d Magnificence!

STANZA 4
Oft have you hinted to your brother Peer,
A certain truth, which many buy too dear:
Something there is more needful than Expence,
And something previous ev’n to Taste- ’tis Sense:
Good Sense, which only is the gift of Heav’n,
And tho’ no science, fairly worth the sev’n:
A Light, which in yourself you must percieve;
Jones and Le Notre have it not to give.

STANZA 7
Still follow Sense, of ev’ry Art and Soul,
Parts answ’ring parts shall slide into the whole,
Spontaneous beauties all around in advance,
Start ev’n from Difficulty, strike from Chance;
Nature shall join you, Time shall make it grow

39 word, 10 line, Acrostic Poem

Miles Whinfrey (c) February 2014
Acrostic on subject of (1) Wood and (2) Fear
Forest Fit-out Fix
As things stand no reprieve,
Sherwood Forest has many;
Hollow for vagabonds.

Don’t mix Ash specimens,
It spreads disease,
England’s strife.

Boles in short supply,
Armies of purchasers look abroad,
“Can we get this?”
Kaleidoscopic wood of highest request.

Poetic Prose

Miles Whinfrey (c) February 2014
On subject of (1) Paper, and (2) Serious.

Joshing to lift the spirits

I don’t know everything Chris has said-
But I have read the paper today,
About what is happening to other people.

Soon your hostess tray will float to you,
You’ll never have to mow the grass- it’ll be kelp,
Forget trips to the council pool- if you loose something
at home soon it will all be sub-aquatic exercise,
You can’t have domestics with 8,000 gallons in your
front room,
And that’s not counting those that have their stuff out
in the four corners of the earth- silly people.

Were lucky we have the early lessons of Atlantis.
Can anyone remember?
Have I got that right?
Before it all got too much.

Realise- It’s not been this bad since 1700.
No-one’s particularly sorry-
So he has to do everything for them now,
Holland- what the Dutch? It’s nothing like that, no
comparison.

Give them some time to get around to other people’s
problems,
It’s them or you who’re left there,
Constant carping,
It seems that many have lost a sense of humour,
If we can’t laugh at ourselves, well that’s a poor show.