"And ere it quite has gone to rot,
I, B—— give my blue great-coat,
With all its rags, and dirt, and tallow,
Because he's such a dirty fellow.
"Now for my books; first, Bunyan's Pilgrim,
(As he with thankful pleasure will grin,)
Though dog-leaved, torn, in bad type set in,
'T will do quite well for classmate B——,
And thus, with complaisance to treat her,
'T will answer for another Detur.
"To him that occupies my study,
I give, for use of making toddy,
A bottle full of white-face STINGO,
Another, handy, called a mingo.
My wit, as I've enough to spare,
And many much in want there are,
I ne'er intend to keep at home,
But give to those that handiest come,
Having due caution, where and when,
Never to spatter gentlemen.
The world's loud call I can't refuse,
The fine productions of my muse;
If impudence to fame shall waft her,
I'll give the public all, hereafter.
My love-songs, sorrowful, complaining,
(The recollection puts me pain in,)
The last sad groans of deep despair,
That once could all my entrails tear;
My farewell sermon to the ladies;
My satire on a woman's head-dress;
My epigram so full of glee,
Pointed as epigrams should be;
My sonnets soft, and sweet as lasses,
My GEOGRAPHY of MOUNT PARNASSUS;
With all the bards that round it gather,
And variations of the weather;
Containing more true humorous satire,
Than's oft the lot of human nature;
('O dear, what can the matter be!'
I've given away my vanity;
The vessel can't so much contain,
It runs o'er and comes back again.)
My blank verse, poems so majestic,
My rhymes heroic, tales agrestic;
The whole, I say, I'll overhaul 'em,
Collect and publish in a volume.
"My heart, which thousand ladies crave,
That I intend my wife shall have.
I'd give my foibles to the wind,
And leave my vices all behind;
But much I fear they'll to me stick,
Where'er I go, through thin and thick.
On WISDOM'S horse, oh, might I ride,
Whose steps let PRUDENCE' bridle guide.
Thy loudest voice, O REASON, lend,
And thou, PHILOSOPHY, befriend.
May candor all my actions guide,
And o'er my every thought preside,
And in thy ear, O FORTUNE, one word,
Let thy swelled canvas bear me onward,
Thy favors let me ever see,
And I'll be much obliged to thee;
And come with blooming visage meek,
Come, HEALTH, and ever flush my cheek;
O bid me in the morning rise,
When tinges Sol the eastern skies;
At breakfast, supper-time, or dinner,
Let me against thee be no sinner.
"And when the glass of life is run,
And I behold my setting sun,
May conscience sound be my protection,
And no ungrateful recollection,
No gnawing cares nor tumbling woes,
Disturb the quiet of life's close.
And when Death's gentle feet shall come
To bear me to my endless home,
Oh! may my soul, should Heaven but save it,
Safely return to GOD who gave it."
Federal Orrery, Oct. 29, 1795. Buckingham's Reminiscences,
Vol. II. pp. 228-231, 268-273.
It is probable that the idea of a "College Will" was suggested to Biglow by "Father Abbey's Will," portions of which, till the present generation, were "familiar to nearly all the good housewives of New England." From the history of this poetical production, which has been lately printed for private circulation by the Rev. John Langdon Sibley of Harvard College, the annexed transcript of the instrument itself, together with the love-letter which was suggested by it, has been taken. The instances in which the accepted text differs from a Broadside copy, in the possession of the editor of this work, are noted at the foot of the page.
"FATHER ABBEY'S WILL:
TO WHICH IS NOW ADDED, A LETTER OF COURTSHIP TO HIS VIRTUOUS AND
AMIABLE WIDOW.
"Cambridge, December, 1730.
"Some time since died here Mr. Matthew Abbey, in a very advanced age: He had for a great number of years served the College in quality of Bedmaker and Sweeper: Having no child, his wife inherits his whole estate, which he bequeathed to her by his last will and testament, as follows, viz.:—
"To my dear wife
My joy and life,
I freely now do give her,
My whole estate,
With all my plate,
Being just about to leave her.