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The Bankrupt; Or, Advice to the Insolvent.: A Poem, addressed to a friend, with other piecesParkerson, James

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The Bankrupt; Or, Advice to the Insolvent.: A Poem, addressed to a friend, with other pieces

Name: The Bankrupt; Or, Advice to the Insolvent.: A Poem, addressed to a friend, with other pieces
Author: Parkerson, James

Parkerson, James

English poetry

Transcribed from the 1806 S. Kitton edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org.  Many thanks to Norfolk and Norwich Millennium Library,
UK, for kindly supplying the images from which this transcription was
made.





                              THE BANKRUPT,


                                    OR

                        _ADVICE TO THE INSOLVENT_,

                                 A POEM,

                          ADDRESSED TO A FRIEND:

                                   WITH

                              OTHER PIECES.

                                * * * * *

                       _BY JAMES PARKERSON_, _JUN._
                            LATE OF YARMOUTH.

                                * * * * *

                                _NORWICH_:
              PRINTED AND SOLD FOR THE AUTHOR BY S. KITTON,
                             WHITE-LION-LANE;
               SOLD ALSO BY CROSBY AND CO. LONDON; KEYMER,
                   YARMOUTH: AND ALL OTHER BOOKSELLERS.

                                * * * * *

                           PRICE ONE SHILLING.
                                  1806.




THE BANKRUPT.


                                  * * * * *

   Oft have you pray'd me, when in youth,
   Never to err from paths of truth;
   But youth to vice is much too prone,
   And mine by far too much, I own.
   Induced to riot, swear, and game,
   I thought in vice t'acquire a fame;
   But found the pois'ning scenes of riot
   Soon robb'd my mind of joy and quiet.
   The usual course of rakes I ran,
   The dupe of woman and of man.
   Careless of fortune's smile or frown,
   My desk I left t'enjoy the town,
   At folly dash'd in wisdom's spite,
   Idled by day, revell'd by night:
   But short was the delusive scene,
   And I awoke to sorrow keen.
   Debt press'd on debt: I could not pay,
   And found that credit had its day.
   No friend to aid, what should I do?
   I made bad worse: to liquor flew:
   For when my bill-book I survey'd,
   I shrunk, as if I'd seen my shade;
   And to drive terror from my mind,
   Drank on, and care gave to the wind:
   But wine nor words can charm away
   The banker's clerk who comes for pay.
   Payment is press'd, the cash is gone:
   Too late I cry, 'What must be done?'
   Horror! a docket struck appears:
   I look aghast, my wife's in tears.
   The naked truth now stares me in the face,
   And shows me more than one disgrace.
   My keys a messenger demands;
   While, as a culprit often stands,
   The humbled bankrupt lowers his view,
   And sees the law its work pursue.
   Soon comes of all his goods the sale,
   Which, like light straw before a gale,
   The hammer-man puffs clean away,
   And cries, 'They must be sold this day.'
   They are so, and I'll tell you how:
   At loss you'll readily allow.
   Then comes the tedious, humbling task,
   To answer all commiss'ners ask;
   And those who mean to act most fair
   Will at first meeting e'er appear,
   To questions ask'd will answer true,

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

The Bankrupt; Or, Advice to the Insolvent.: A Poem, addressed to a friend, with other pieces

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