Classic Poem

" IN quite a different style lives Poverty;
Depressed by shame and misery, she feels
Her heart too much afflicted by disgrace,
So much she has to beg and be refused.
However she may try, she'll not escape
The universal blame for all her works.
She is unloved, and vilified by all.
One never thinks of her except to plan
His actions so that he may her avoid.
Naught can so grieve a man as falling in
With Poverty; this debtors know full well
Who've spent their all and fear a gallows end.
Full well one knows this who is forced to beg
And suffer much ere folk will give him aid;
And one who's felt the joy of love should know
This just as well; for Ovid truly says,
" Poor men have not wherewith to pasture love."
" Poverty makes a man despair and hate
And live a martyr till he lose his mind.
For Heaven's sake, from such fate guard yourself!
Compel your mind to accept my words as true.
Know well that I have tested what I say;
Experience has proved in my own case
All that I've told you in this sermoning.
Better I know the depths of poverty —
I who have felt its shame and woe — than you,
Fair friend, who never have encountered it.
Believe in me; I say this for your good;
Blessed is he who learns by others' woe.
" I formerly was known as valiant man,
Loved by my friends when freely I could spend —
So freely that I was accounted rich.
Now I am poor through waste of Mad Largesse,
Who brought me to such great distress that I
Have scarce enough to drink or aught to eat
Or clothes or shoes to wear, so Poverty
Has mastered me and robbed me of my friends.
Know well, companion, they all disappeared
As soon as Fortune put me in this case;
Or all but one who now remains alone.
Thus Fortune robbed me, helped by Poverty,
Who came with her. Yet should I say she stole
When she but took what properly was hers?
For all I know, if they'd been truly mine
They never would have left me just for her.
She did no wrong when her own friends she took.
Little I knew that they were really hers;
I thought I'd bought them — body, soul, and goods —
But not a cent's worth of them did I own
When it came to the pinch. When they perceived
My state, these friends of nothing thought but flight.
All mocked me when I fell 'neath Fortune's wheel,
Turned upside down, depressed by Poverty.
No whit should I complain, for she had done
Me greater courtesy than I deserved,
Mine eyes she has anointed with such balm
That all around me I can plainly see
More clearly than a lynx, who'd not perceive
What I have seen were it before his eyes.
This ointment made me confident and sure
What kind of friends they were that Poverty
Removed some twenty of. Ah, no! I lie;
Four hundred fifty did she take away.
But Fortune straightway in their stead bestowed
The open-faced, true love of one real friend
Whom I had never known, had Poverty
Not introduced him when he learned my need.
Soon as he knew my state, he running came;
As far as possible he gave me aid,
Offering me what he had to end my care.
" My friend," said he, " assure yourself you own
My body and my goods as much as I.
Take without asking leave. How much? Take all
If all you need. Of Fortune's many gifts
No friend from friend a single plum withholds.
Take even the gifts that Nature gave to me.
Since we first met, we've known each other well;
Our very hearts are joined, and we have found
And proved ourselves good friends, a fact unknown
Until it's proved. What's mine I hold as yours.
So powerful you'll find the bonds of love,
For your behoof you may surrender me
As pledge or hostage — sell my goods for bail."
" Nor did my friend stop short with promises;
To prove himself sincere, he forced on me
His having, and I shamed and silent stood,
Unwilling even to reach out my hand,
Like needy wretch whose shame has shut his lips
So that he dares not tell his direful state
But tries to cover up — keep to himself —
The poverty he feels, that none may know,
And puts up a good front. So then did I.
" That not all do so I remember well;
Some able-bodied Mendicants intrude
Where'er they please, by means of flattery.
They show their hardihood to all they meet
Outside; but, once within, they well conceal
Their nature, to deceive the ones who give.
They say they're poor, and so fat pickings get;
Their treasuries great heaps of farthings hold.
Enough of these; for I could say so much
That it might go with me from bad to worse,
Since always such-like hypocrites detest
The truth that's to their disadvantage told.
" Alas that e'er my foolish heart had placed
Upon such friends its trust! I was betrayed
By my weak mind — and generally despised,
Hated, defamed, without my least desert
Or any reason but the loss I've named.
I had no friend to whom to turn but you,
Who never lost your love, but more attached
Your heart became to mine, as it will be,
So I believe, forever, if God please;
For never will I cease from loving you.
Though my terrestrial companionship
You'll lose, when on the latest day Death comes
To claim his right, my body, he'll ne'er touch
Us save in our corporeal estate
And in its appertaining substances.
We both may die more soon than either hopes,
For death will separate the best of friends;
But probably we'll not together die.
Long as I live I'll keep your memory.
" The story tells how sadly Theseus grieved
When Pirithous was dead; he loved him so
He followed him to Hell, for in his heart
The friend still lived whom best he'd loved on earth.
" But Poverty does worse than Death; she bites
And both the body and the soul torments,
Not for a single hour, but for so long
As either one remains. She urges men
To theft and perjury and other crimes
Which hit them hard and condemnation bring.
This, Death will never do, but rescues men
From everything, and at her coming stops
All earthly torment, howsoever great,
And, in a single hour, ends all their grief.
Therefore, fair friend, hold in your memory
Great Solomon, King of Jerusalem,
From whom one learns full many a goodly thing.
He said — now note it well — " Beware, my son,
Of poverty the days of all your life."
And in his book the reason thus he gives,
" Far better 'tis to die than to be poor
In this terrestrial life." By poverty
He doubtless means the suffering that comes
From indigence which so annoys its hosts
That never so despised a folk I've seen
As those we term the poor. The very laws
Declare that they are barred as witnesses —
Put poverty upon a par with infamy! "