Poem by Alexander Brome

The Antipolititian

1.

COme leave thy care, and love thy friend;
Live freely, don't dispair,
Of getting money there's no end,
And keeping it breeds care.
If thou hast money at thy need,
Good company, and good Wine,
His life, whose joyes on wealth do feed,
's not half so sweet as thine.

2.

I can enjoy my self and friends,
W'thout design or fear,
Below their envie, or base ends,
That Polititians are.
I neither toyle, nor care, nor grieve,
To gather, keep, or loose;
With freedom and content I live,
And what's my own I use.

3.

While men blown on with strong desires
Of riches or renown,
Though ne'r so high, would still be higher,
So tumble headlong down:
For Princes smiles turn oft to frowns,
And favours fade each hour;
He that to day heaps Towns on Towns,
To morrow's clap't i'th Tower.

4.

All that we get by all our store,
's but honour or dominion;
The one's but trouble varnish'd o're,
And t'others but opinion.
Fate rules the roast, Times alwaies change;
'Tis fancy builds all things;
How madly then our minds do range,
Since all we grasp hath wings.

5.

Those empty terms of rich and poor,
Comparison hath fram'd;
He hath not much that covets more,
Want is but will, nick-nam'd.
If I can safely think and live,
And freely laugh or sing,
My wealth I'll not for Craesus's give,
Nor change lives with a King.

1. To his Mistress (LAdy you'l wonder when you see)
2. The Reformation
3. The Wary Woer
4. The Damosel
5. Loves Anarchy

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